Mom's normal contains a fair amount of ridiculous made, which made it harder for both dad and me to realize that something was up. She always forgot things, repeated herself, asked questions for the sake of asking questions. It had to get really obviously ridiculous for either of us to realize--well, for him to realize first, and for me to agree--that something was wrong.
Anyway, mom's decent mood--even after the fall--gave way to 'old mom.' She went on (and on and on) about how it was my fault she fell because I should have given them my bedroom. They always give guests their bedroom (not true--I've never seen them do that). When dad said that he approved the guest room they'd ended up in--I'd asked him, he said it was fine--she said (over and over and over) that they should have consulted her; she has bad feet. (Unclear what the bed has to do with her feet. Or with the fall for that matter; my bedroom is across the hall from the guestroom, and the bathroom is in the middle. If she was going to miss it, she was going to miss it). I think--and I know it hurts, but what can you do when someone else is in pain, except give them drugs--she was just sick of being in pain and needed to blame others for her predicament. What I really want to say to her, but it sounds obnoxious when you say it to someone else, even though it's the best thing to say to yourself when you're in pain, is, "this too shall pass." At least her degenerative illness is not one of chronic pain. At least in two weeks, she'll feel much better. I know that doesn't help her now, but since I can't help her now anyway, I wish she'd take the long view.
I guess I could feel guilty about having brought them here, even though she could have fallen anywhere. There would have been a point--and this was it--where we would have understood definitively that she's not to be left alone. There were good reasons for them to come here, and it started out as a really good visit. Ironically, I thought beforehand how nice it was that the house was in good shape, because whenever they'd come in the past, dad felt the need to spend all his time working on stuff. Both mom and dad feel better working on stuff. So I gave him a project (hanging up the mini-vacuum) and thought we'd spend the rest of our time going for walks and hitting some museums. But, especially once we were essentially grounded, dad kept on finding additional projects. I'd forgotten that the downstairs bathroom didn't have a working lock; dad changed it out. I'd forgotten that the shed was a mess and that I had hooks in there so I could hang things up and organize it; dad found the hooks, and we cleaned out the shed. Amid all these projects, dad got sick of picking through my assortment of spare nails and screws, so I organized my nails and screws, and then the rest of the utility cabinet. I guess I should be happy that the house looks good, and I am, but it wasn't exactly the trip I'd intended for them.
They're at the airport. I'm on my way to a party. I'm still coming to terms with what happened--both with mom's injury and pain, and with the state of her mind. I guess interpersonally it was a very decent trip, even in spite of the round of blame. She's just hurting, so she's cranky. I have to remind myself, too, that she'll be okay.
Anyway, mom's decent mood--even after the fall--gave way to 'old mom.' She went on (and on and on) about how it was my fault she fell because I should have given them my bedroom. They always give guests their bedroom (not true--I've never seen them do that). When dad said that he approved the guest room they'd ended up in--I'd asked him, he said it was fine--she said (over and over and over) that they should have consulted her; she has bad feet. (Unclear what the bed has to do with her feet. Or with the fall for that matter; my bedroom is across the hall from the guestroom, and the bathroom is in the middle. If she was going to miss it, she was going to miss it). I think--and I know it hurts, but what can you do when someone else is in pain, except give them drugs--she was just sick of being in pain and needed to blame others for her predicament. What I really want to say to her, but it sounds obnoxious when you say it to someone else, even though it's the best thing to say to yourself when you're in pain, is, "this too shall pass." At least her degenerative illness is not one of chronic pain. At least in two weeks, she'll feel much better. I know that doesn't help her now, but since I can't help her now anyway, I wish she'd take the long view.
I guess I could feel guilty about having brought them here, even though she could have fallen anywhere. There would have been a point--and this was it--where we would have understood definitively that she's not to be left alone. There were good reasons for them to come here, and it started out as a really good visit. Ironically, I thought beforehand how nice it was that the house was in good shape, because whenever they'd come in the past, dad felt the need to spend all his time working on stuff. Both mom and dad feel better working on stuff. So I gave him a project (hanging up the mini-vacuum) and thought we'd spend the rest of our time going for walks and hitting some museums. But, especially once we were essentially grounded, dad kept on finding additional projects. I'd forgotten that the downstairs bathroom didn't have a working lock; dad changed it out. I'd forgotten that the shed was a mess and that I had hooks in there so I could hang things up and organize it; dad found the hooks, and we cleaned out the shed. Amid all these projects, dad got sick of picking through my assortment of spare nails and screws, so I organized my nails and screws, and then the rest of the utility cabinet. I guess I should be happy that the house looks good, and I am, but it wasn't exactly the trip I'd intended for them.
They're at the airport. I'm on my way to a party. I'm still coming to terms with what happened--both with mom's injury and pain, and with the state of her mind. I guess interpersonally it was a very decent trip, even in spite of the round of blame. She's just hurting, so she's cranky. I have to remind myself, too, that she'll be okay.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment