Return to the Land of the Living
I'm back. Deeply inspired by Orphaned Blogs - a call by communications consultant Hillary Shay to return to your once fabulous, now forgotten blog - so that's what I'm doing.
It's been a long stretch since January 3rd when I got the call saying that my mother "was not going to make it." She'd been rushed to the hospital in Atlanta, suffering from what we now know was a stroke and other complications. Since then, I'm been living in limbo with my thoughts stuck on what's next and how will my siblings and I manage.
Will she awake from her non-responsive state? (she did) Will she be able to speak again? (she is) Will she be able to manage on her own again? Where will she live? And the one weighing most on me -- How will be pay for treatment and care? The unknown is a dreadful thing.
Suddenly, my life changed. Reading about the little known Social Security benefits or researching the best places for retirement, or drooling over the latest Bon Appetit recipes or planning my next dream vacation. Maybe Nova Scotia? I'm always wanted to visit there since I first learned, for many, it was the last stop on the Underground Railroad.
Now, I'm taking it one day at a time. I've accepted that there will not likely be a dream vacation this year.
I've already spent this year's vacation budget on trips back and forth to Atlanta, rental cars and hotels. I could have saved money by bunking with relatives and I did for a brief stretch -- but I needed to be alone with my thoughts. I needed to maintain my independence -- perhaps because my mother no longer has hers. I needed to be alone with my fears, to deal with my anger, my sorrow, my deep depression over what lies ahead and to try to find a way to have the tough talk with my mother about her future.
My reading list has changed. First up - Bob Mauterstock's blog "Caring for Aging Parents." It's helping me learn to cope with the inevitable, to figure out how to have the tough conversations, to return to the land of the living -- because as I've been advised in recent days by a couple of well-meaning close friends: "You can't take care of your mother if you don't take care of yourself."
I know I'll handle this, I'll manage, I'll figure it out. I'm going to learn to make the most of living in this new life that I've been handed. My mother and I are going to be just fine.
It's been a long stretch since January 3rd when I got the call saying that my mother "was not going to make it." She'd been rushed to the hospital in Atlanta, suffering from what we now know was a stroke and other complications. Since then, I'm been living in limbo with my thoughts stuck on what's next and how will my siblings and I manage.
Will she awake from her non-responsive state? (she did) Will she be able to speak again? (she is) Will she be able to manage on her own again? Where will she live? And the one weighing most on me -- How will be pay for treatment and care? The unknown is a dreadful thing.
Suddenly, my life changed. Reading about the little known Social Security benefits or researching the best places for retirement, or drooling over the latest Bon Appetit recipes or planning my next dream vacation. Maybe Nova Scotia? I'm always wanted to visit there since I first learned, for many, it was the last stop on the Underground Railroad.
Now, I'm taking it one day at a time. I've accepted that there will not likely be a dream vacation this year.
I've already spent this year's vacation budget on trips back and forth to Atlanta, rental cars and hotels. I could have saved money by bunking with relatives and I did for a brief stretch -- but I needed to be alone with my thoughts. I needed to maintain my independence -- perhaps because my mother no longer has hers. I needed to be alone with my fears, to deal with my anger, my sorrow, my deep depression over what lies ahead and to try to find a way to have the tough talk with my mother about her future.
My reading list has changed. First up - Bob Mauterstock's blog "Caring for Aging Parents." It's helping me learn to cope with the inevitable, to figure out how to have the tough conversations, to return to the land of the living -- because as I've been advised in recent days by a couple of well-meaning close friends: "You can't take care of your mother if you don't take care of yourself."
I know I'll handle this, I'll manage, I'll figure it out. I'm going to learn to make the most of living in this new life that I've been handed. My mother and I are going to be just fine.
Reading this is like reading a blog entry about my own life, except my mother had a serious fall recently instead of a stroke. I know it's bad enough dealing with a loved one who isn't well -- it's even more trying to try to deal with hospitals and rehab facilities and nursing homes (not to mention insurance/medicare). Hope your mom continues to recover and is able to return to an independent life.
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