The Rabbit Hole
Today. Today has been a rough day. It's been SO long since I've posted but I really just need to get my thoughts out there. So please bear with me as I'm typing this on my phone and my thoughts are scattered.
It started with a trip to the Lego store. I started a little small talk with a friendly lady while Michael built some little Lego men. I found out she was in town for the day. She explained she received a call from her grandson, who so sweetly said, "grandma when can we go to the Lego Store?" Upon hearing this, she called out of work, drove up from Williamsburg and obviously took him. It hit me like a ton of bricks. This seemingly innocent story. I started bawling. She thought I was crazy.
See, my mom is my dad's primary care giver. Though my dad is in daycare twice a week, that means my mom basically has no time to herself. It is a very selfless act, an act of love and a huge test of patience and a show of who my mother is. Because she is his primary caregiver, my mom cannot just come see her grandkids on a whim. She can't drive up for the day anymore. In fact, she's never even been out alone with Michael ever. For a minute I let selfishness overcome me. Why doesn't she get to have these precious moments? Why can't I spend time with my mother just out for an hour or two? But then I checked myself. How blessed am I that I get to have my dad still home. How blessed am I that it isn't worse, yet. How blessed are we that we have this time to spend with my dad? So I called my mom, told her about the woman, and of course, unintentionally, made her cry. She mentioned she's exhausted, she's hoping to hear from the nursing home soon and hopefully from a contracted agency about assistance. Heart breaking.
So, as the morning went on I got to thinking. I have so many questions for my dad. So many questions I'll never know the answer to. Yes, I went down the rabbit hole. Does he know he has grandkids? If he does, does he know their names? Does he know me? Or that he even has a daughter? Sure, sometimes it seems he does, but does he? What does he hear, know, see, think? When did this start? How soon before we realized? Did he know? Did he ignore it or just not want to admit it? The list goes on. NONE of these questions will ever be answered. NONE. Unless I go see Long Island Medium or something (I'm kidding-kind of) but really, I'll never have answers. Let me tell you guys; if you start going down that rabbit hole, don't. It's depressing. So again, I had to check myself. How blessed are we that he's so calm, and so sweet. He's never angry or violent. He lets you feed him, bathe him, help him. He is never upset. I've heard horror stories about others who haven't been so lucky. So sure, we don't have answers but we have love. Lots of it.
After an exhausting emotional morning I get a call from my momma, one we've been waiting MONTHS for. He has finally been approved for in home assistance! Two days a week but hey, this is HUGE. My mom no longer has to bathe him herself, shave him, groom him. The most stressful, exhausting part of her life, just like that has been "approved" for assistance.
I guess I should update you. For at least a year now, or maybe almost a year, my father has not been able to perform basic hygiene tasks. My mother does everything for him. And since being diagnosed with Parkinson's over the summer, he no longer sleeps upstairs (this is a story for another post) but he sleeps in a hospital bed in the formal living room that my mom so lovingly made into a nice bedroom for him. So while she no longer has to take him up and down the stairs (a giant task) she does still have to bathe him, shave him, groom him and help him use the restroom. Can you imagine? I only experience it every couple weeks and even I can't imagine how she does it ALL and literally with no help. Until today. Prayers have been answered. The day I gave into the tears, the day my mom mentioned the nursing home, today of all days. He was approved.
This doesnt make this situation any less sad, any less horrible, any less devastating. It does make it easier though. It does mean that maybe I'll see my mom smile again. It does give me hope. Not for my dad. That hope disappeared a long time ago. But hope for my mom. It gives me hope that she can get back to loving herself again, to being herself again, to being less stressed, less tired, more present. Lets be honest, this disease ruins lives but in the end, the caregiver sacrifices the most.
It started with a trip to the Lego store. I started a little small talk with a friendly lady while Michael built some little Lego men. I found out she was in town for the day. She explained she received a call from her grandson, who so sweetly said, "grandma when can we go to the Lego Store?" Upon hearing this, she called out of work, drove up from Williamsburg and obviously took him. It hit me like a ton of bricks. This seemingly innocent story. I started bawling. She thought I was crazy.
See, my mom is my dad's primary care giver. Though my dad is in daycare twice a week, that means my mom basically has no time to herself. It is a very selfless act, an act of love and a huge test of patience and a show of who my mother is. Because she is his primary caregiver, my mom cannot just come see her grandkids on a whim. She can't drive up for the day anymore. In fact, she's never even been out alone with Michael ever. For a minute I let selfishness overcome me. Why doesn't she get to have these precious moments? Why can't I spend time with my mother just out for an hour or two? But then I checked myself. How blessed am I that I get to have my dad still home. How blessed am I that it isn't worse, yet. How blessed are we that we have this time to spend with my dad? So I called my mom, told her about the woman, and of course, unintentionally, made her cry. She mentioned she's exhausted, she's hoping to hear from the nursing home soon and hopefully from a contracted agency about assistance. Heart breaking.
So, as the morning went on I got to thinking. I have so many questions for my dad. So many questions I'll never know the answer to. Yes, I went down the rabbit hole. Does he know he has grandkids? If he does, does he know their names? Does he know me? Or that he even has a daughter? Sure, sometimes it seems he does, but does he? What does he hear, know, see, think? When did this start? How soon before we realized? Did he know? Did he ignore it or just not want to admit it? The list goes on. NONE of these questions will ever be answered. NONE. Unless I go see Long Island Medium or something (I'm kidding-kind of) but really, I'll never have answers. Let me tell you guys; if you start going down that rabbit hole, don't. It's depressing. So again, I had to check myself. How blessed are we that he's so calm, and so sweet. He's never angry or violent. He lets you feed him, bathe him, help him. He is never upset. I've heard horror stories about others who haven't been so lucky. So sure, we don't have answers but we have love. Lots of it.
After an exhausting emotional morning I get a call from my momma, one we've been waiting MONTHS for. He has finally been approved for in home assistance! Two days a week but hey, this is HUGE. My mom no longer has to bathe him herself, shave him, groom him. The most stressful, exhausting part of her life, just like that has been "approved" for assistance.
I guess I should update you. For at least a year now, or maybe almost a year, my father has not been able to perform basic hygiene tasks. My mother does everything for him. And since being diagnosed with Parkinson's over the summer, he no longer sleeps upstairs (this is a story for another post) but he sleeps in a hospital bed in the formal living room that my mom so lovingly made into a nice bedroom for him. So while she no longer has to take him up and down the stairs (a giant task) she does still have to bathe him, shave him, groom him and help him use the restroom. Can you imagine? I only experience it every couple weeks and even I can't imagine how she does it ALL and literally with no help. Until today. Prayers have been answered. The day I gave into the tears, the day my mom mentioned the nursing home, today of all days. He was approved.
This doesnt make this situation any less sad, any less horrible, any less devastating. It does make it easier though. It does mean that maybe I'll see my mom smile again. It does give me hope. Not for my dad. That hope disappeared a long time ago. But hope for my mom. It gives me hope that she can get back to loving herself again, to being herself again, to being less stressed, less tired, more present. Lets be honest, this disease ruins lives but in the end, the caregiver sacrifices the most.
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