I have many friends who are in similar situations to my own.
D moved in with his mom one month after I moved in with mine. D’s mother has dementia. He’s an only child. He has two aunts, and two cousins who are both is age. He faces challenges I can’t even imagine. And he does so with grace, compassion, and a commitment to ensuring that his mother receive the best care possible.
His life has been dominated by his mother’s needs. In the beginning he could manage with the help of friends and neighbors. As her condition gradually worsened, he had to depend on his boyfriend (now EX) and the fact that they worked different schedules, leaving them very little opportunity to be a couple in any meaningful way. Eventually he had to start hiring ‘baby sitters’.
I don’t know how you make a judgment about when one person can manage the needs of a dementia patient at home. But I fear the situation is rapidly becoming impossible, and D will have to make the difficult choice to put his mother into a care facility.
I can easily imagine that he will have very mixed feelings about doing that. He certainly wants her to have the best care, and he would also like to have his own life back. I know that he has been putting at some parts of his life on hold, making choices that favor being home, being around, being available to take care of his mother’s ever-increasing needs.
He shouldn’t feel guilty because he can’t offer her the care she needs at home. But I suspect that he will have a hard time accepting that. He WILL have given enough, even if his heart says otherwise.
G moved from California with his father. G’s father is of sound mind, but his body is failing in a variety of ways. Hip replacement. Back problems. Lots of physical issues that make it difficult, or impossible, for him to do all the things he’s always been able to do.
G has been great. I think that like me, G has gotten to know his father in a new way that gives him a profound appreciation for who this man is, and that he could never have known just by being his son, all grown up and living away.
In contrast, there’s R. He’s living with his mom, and one of his brother’s who is going through a messy divorce. I’ve known R and his mother since I was five years old, when I first moved to Florida and R became my friend. She’s always been a strong woman, used to having her opinion and believing that if you knew what was good for you, you would have it too. Used to taking care of the business of the family: paying bills; making sure things around the house get done; keeping a schedule with students; taking care of her own mother; and generally making sure the world is a better place.
Unfortunately, between her hearing loss, and the various physical infirmities she simply can’t do those things any more.
Even having a conversation with her is difficult. She just can’t hear and the nature of her hearing loss is beyond the reach of hearing enhancement technology.
R and I recently spent a day together out at Universal. We’ve known each other a long time, and although we don’t get to see each other often, when we do it’s like no time has passed. It was a great day: perfect weather; no lines; and best of all, we like all the same rides.
We went to Finnegan’s for lunch. We sat there talking about our mothers. Our situations are much the same on paper, but profoundly different in practice. My mother and I genuinely enjoy each other. Even if I wasn’t her son, I might well be her friend if the world had given us the opportunity to meet.
R and his mother… Not so much. He is doing everything he can to help. But it’s not enjoyable for him to know his mother in this way. She is not someone he would choose to have a relationship with at this point in their lives.
I don’t mean she’s a bad person. Far from it. She’s a remarkable, interesting, strong, opinionated, compassionate, generous and kind woman. Or at least, that’s the woman I knew, and the woman R grew up with.
But at this point, her life is very limited. As a result, she’s basically frustrated. All the time. About everything. She’s not pleasant to be around.
But R must be around. He must help. Well.. Not MUST. But he IS around and he IS helping. And it’s clearly a sacrifice in a way that my helping my mother isn’t.
Then there’s J. J is a single mom with a daughter in college. Her mother is a retired nurse, or possibly doctor. At first, when Mom, J and her daughter were all living together it was really kind of great. Three generations of strong, intelligent, interesting women sharing a big, comfortable house.
But then Mom started to have some health issues. Major back problems. Surgery. Hospital stays. Pain medications. Immobility. Just .. lots and lots of things, one after another.
One day, J and I were sharing stories about some of the things we had been experiencing. I’ve done this. WELL.. I’ve done that and this! Kind of a one upmanship about the things that happen with dealing with Mom.
Naturally, I was telling her about “Dick, it’s time to change my bandage” (You can find the story here: Damn it Jim, I’m a Doctor, not a…). Finding my mother lying on her bed, on her side, panties down around her ankles, flank exposed so that I can clean and dress the 12 inch wound on her hip.
Yep. J was appropriately horrified and amused. Then she said, “Have you had to wipe?”
To which, I replied, “You win.”