Well, I'm Gary near Boston, and I've been a member of the site for a bit now. Since November 2005, when my dad died at my home in hospice after a 2-year battle with colon cancer, I've been the main emotional, physical, house repairs, and financial affairs support for my elderly and increasingly infirm mom. My sole sibling was a brother who died almost 25 years ago.
My mom lives nearby, still in her 2-family house of which my family completely owns our 2nd-floor half, that is 50% of the house. The bottom half is completely owned by my late dad's sister, who lived there for decades with her husband -- the co-owner of the house with my dad for over 50 years -- until he ironically died just months after my dad did. Thing is, this aunt and uncle had left their first floor-owned half of the house vacant for the previous few years, opting to live full-time in a second home in Florida instead. Their 2 sons, my cousins, want nothing to do with living in or renting out the house. One cousin lives near my now-widowed aunt down there in Florida; the other cousin still lives nearby in the Boston area, but wishes to move south too but cannot right now as his wife's elderly mom, in her 90s in a local assisted care center, is in failing health but still very much alive. The family refuses to rent out their bottom owned half of the house, I think because my cousins don't wish to bear the responsibilities inherent with needing to be "long-distance landlords."
So my mom is alone in our second floor-owned half of the house. I had a place of my own in downtown Boston for many years, but as my parents grew elderly and more infirm, including my dad becoming ill, I decided to move back to my hometown north of Boston -- including even living back with my parents out of my own room for a year, when my dad became diagnosed with cancer. We did help each other out, and I don't regret that decision I made...but I desperately needed my own physical, mental and emotional space, so then rented a place that allows me this space while also permitting me to remain physically nearby to my parents' home.
I have my own ongoing, problematic chronic physical health problems. Like my dad did, I suffer from diverticulosis. Also, for 20 years I have had IBS-C (Irritable Bowel Syndrome-Consipation Prevalent); and I've been operated on more than once for abdominal adhesions (15+) that have caused recurring intestinal small bowel obstructions. I'm 45-years-old; I have a good, appreciated, quality job as a mid-level administrator at a large Boston educational institution allowing me to assist real world-challenged students, as well as instructors and staff, with moving ahead successfully with their education and positive contributions to the area communities. If it weren't for that job, as stressful as it can be, I think I'd totally lose my center.
I haven't had the chance to handle my emotions about my dad's death since he died. Everything has needed to revolve around my mom -- who was always a very anxiety-ridden and needy person to begin with, as she was glued at the hip with my dad to whom she'd been married for 58 years, and since she suffers from thyroid problems affecting her metabolism and was the daughter, along with 3 other siblings, of an old-generation imposing Italian father who later in life became an alcoholic and physically abusive with beatings to the children including my mom. So I understand that my mom's thoughts and actions, as cyclically anguish-ridden and needy as they are, are things that she the most is suffering from because she can neither control nor change them, now at 79 years of age. Her siblings live generally in the area still -- all older than she -- but they are in even more deteriorating health at this stage, and their grown children (my cousins) are occupied with similarly needing to take care of those parents' needs.
My cousins and I have come to realize, however, that even though our parents did not turn to alcohol like their father (our grandfather did), they had the same emotional-support needs and, instead, basically utilized "us" as their "bottles" rather than alcohol like Grandpa did. That is to say, instead of booze like him, our parents lean on us for validation, support, easing of anxiety, escape, listening, and stress relief.
But this isn't healthy. I have my own physical and, since dad passed, emotional burdens -- and I usually am feeling like a person already floating in the sea with my head just above the waves -- and then comes along my mom throwing me the weight of her own physical and emotional issues in the form of some psychological anchor which is driving me underwater.
Assertively and proactively, I've contacted, processed and accomplished all the caregiving, insurance, personally-carried out, and medical assistance to and for my mom that I can do with her insurances, eligible services, and my assistance (financially, time-wise, and emotionally). Right now, I can't handle more. I'm going under. Yes, it does have to "be about me" at some point. But I almost never have a cherished moment not to be using my mind to work, decide, fix, think, or explain something -- I'm single, I wish to be that, and I desire to maintain my life and enjoy it. But I feel it slipping away with all of mom's and my problems. I have tried to contact more resources and groups about helping me, but right after dad died I had to undergo one large emergency and then a smaller scheduled surgeries, and things have never settled down, become easier, or stopped snowballing. I don't live, I feel that instead I just right now exist. I love my mom and want the best for her extremely a lot and responsibly: but I also wish not to drop dead myself, or not have my own life to live, in the process.
People telling me "but you HAVE to make your own life, Gary" -- oh, they mean so well, I understand -- but how easier it is to give the advice than to be the one in the very shoes I'm wearing. They're shoes they don't fit exactly right, and ones I don't want to wear anymore.
That's where I am now. I pray for all us caregivers -- 'cause I realize there are millions like me, including an infinite number with far worse problems. But I can only experience my life-reality one reality at a time.
I hope to talk more with people here soon!
Thanks for visiting and listening
8/2008
PS: I found through my mom's eldercare service provider that they have secured a grant to provide a once-monthly, 90 min. caregivers support group, every third Tuesday of the month, right in my hometown. I'm gonna try as best as possible to make the next one upcoming in September.
Also, they reminded me that the COPE organization in the area might be able to help me obtain a counselor who's able to go out to my mom's house and visit her once weekly to help her through her feelings of anxiety, grief and fear. I'll keep you updated..
8/15/08
Well, I had a good cry tonight. It's been a real long time since I cried about dad. And not for myself or for my mom. That's the hardest thing -- that when you're a caregiver, it's like your own grief goes on hold, or it doesn't have a chance to happen at all. Ever get flashbacks? I knew the term, but never really ever experienced them. Since my father died, I get them now. Especially this time of the year -- summer-to-fall was the time both when he first became ill with, was operated on, and received his initial chemo treatment for his colon cancer -- as well as the time, two years later, when it came back. So certain days, when the sun is strong and warm, or a summer evening is still with the crickets, and even those long, Indian summer golden days when it's warm and the sun's reflecting off those changing leaves -- it's not so much that I'm back there, but that all that emotion is back inside of me myself. It's like reliving it and him, but I can't interact with or touch him. Funny how, sometimes memories can effect you more than the present can.. G.
8/22/2008
Tonight, my mom is my "date." ;-) She and I were invited to a surprise 50th anniversary reception hall celebration for one of my late dad's surviving brothers and his wife. My date's and my driving companions are going to be my aunt, widow of my dad's late brother, and her daughter (my first cousin). And we all get to spend, at the end of a long and stressful work week, 3 or so hours wining and dining with my dad's uppity, annoying family -- most of whom I can't stand, but for the event recipients whom I love and who deserve the honor. :-o
It will be difficult, you feel a bitterness seeing a sibling of your late parent still alive and enjoying times...but dad will be there with us in spirit...I'm driving us in his car! :) Going will make my mom happy. I just feel creepy, I feel like I'm going as her partner and don't want to be filling "my dad's shoes" -- I'm me, and I don't wish to be anybody else symbolically.
I could've gone away this weekend with friends -- and I need to leave work early today for this event, when I desperately need really to stay late with the Fall Semester gearing up next week, lots to still set in place -- but this is my life right now...things are what they are. Someday, it'll be mine again. It's how I view it, I suppose..
Bright note, too: Tuesday night, I attended my first monthly caregivers support meeting funded through the grant through my mom's caregiver service... It felt odd, for some reason I felt as if dad had just died again, right then -- maybe revisiting my feelings about his passing that I really haven't been in touch with again since it first occurred 2 1/2 years ago..? Anyway, it felt good that there were these 90 minutes for Me, about how I am feeling, and what I am doing and needing for Me. And we laughed, and vented, and cried. I left there feeling like I was owning my self-preservation and caring for myself, again.
Gary
10/1/2008
Hi...new month, time to update the blog. When my mom and I attended the family surprise 50th anniversary celebration for relatives, my aunt and uncle went out to lead the first dance of the night on the ballroom floor to a song that had evidently been my parents' favorite to dance to..suddenly while we were eating, mom to my left started sitting back almost as happens in a movie, and I thought she was having some attach: she was starting to think and to cry -- crying inconsolably like a little child. I felt so bad. She felt so foolish, but I told her I thought her sadness was healthy, right and OK. We ended up having a good time -- and all my woman cousins and cousins-in-law want to take her out shopping with her!
I attended my second caregiving meeting that got scheduled coincidentally on my birthday evening; so I went there before a family dinner, and was feted by the group attendees with a feast of appreciated mint chocolate oreo cookies. :) Many more were able to show up tonight, and boy did their stories help me put mine in perspective, as well as not feel so alone with the feelings about themselves and those for whom they care which they shared with all of us.
Friday at my college of employment, I embark on a month-oncely mid-level management leadership program conference with 5 colleagues, taking place at a different Mass. community college each month. I'm still hoping against what seem like insurmountable obstacles that I can try to apply, be accepted, and being taking 1 course towards a graduate degree online program next summer. I was proud and felt healing when my mom said, "Gary even though you're helping take care of me, I'm in my years and you've GOT to try, to get your life in order for when you get older someday. Don't let anybody or anything stop you." I'm proud, because as doubtful and forlorn as she gets sometimes in her increasing infirmity and loneliness, I know my widowed mother still really lets nobody and nothing stop her, in her own way, even though she's turning 80-years old later this month.
We all have to hang on, stay on, and hang in there.
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