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helping Mom bathe, anxiety

Question:

Anyway, I’m not doing anything particularly heroic.

Oh, I think you are. You’re sure doin’ more than I am. I grumble all the time at my mom. She came in today right after I woke up, took over my couch, handed me money to get some Mexican food down the road, and fell asleep. I was mad. Well, not steamin’ mad, but kind of grumblin’ mad. I tell her when the time comes, I’m puttin’ her in a storage garage. Well, I don’t tell her that. But I should. It would make her laugh. Truth is, I don’t have the wherewithal to take care of her, and she’s acting like she needs to be taken care of, even though she’s only 60, and can certainly handle most things on her own. I think what you’re doin’ takes a lot of strength, and I’m impressed by what you’ve managed to accomplish. (I was reading about caretakers in the doctor’s office, so I’m a bit of an expert now.) Anyway, hope it cools down over there, and hope you’re well, Ian — I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just gonna ask where they’re goin’, and hook up with ‘em later. (Mitch Hedburg) http://sundry.ws/ — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. <snip Dear D, I watched my MIL go through that a few years ago with both parents.  Paw Paw and Memaw lived well into their 90’s and had a full productive life until around their late 80’s.  Paw Paw was first.  There are 3 daughters and one son.  The daughters joined forces and they bathed him, clothed him and helped take care of him.  (They were married 70 years)  I will never forget my MIL telling me about the first  time she had to bathe her daddy.  She cried and it was upsetting to her and she is one of the strongest people I know.  He was a very distinguisted gentleman, one of the very few you see anymore.  The daughters were wonderful taking care of him and helping Memaw who was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s at the time.  The son did what he could.  Once Paw Paw passed away we all had Memaw to care for and help.  She couldn’t live alone anymore.  The children all took turns having her for a week at a time.  It was hard on them but my MIL said it was also rewarding to be able to pay back all of the love their parents had given them many years ago. Memaw  is gone now, also.  We always try to celebrate how wonderful they were and ALIVE and young for so long.  I am glad your mom has a sense of humor, or at least it sounds that way if she chuckled about the role reversal.  I admire you, D, because I just don’t know how I could do what you are doing.  I have a weak stomach about that sort of thing.  My mom is fairly young, nearly 63, but I have already told my sisters that I am not sure how I will handle  that stage.  My MIL says eventually you get used to it.  I don’t know.  I guess you cross that path when you get there.  Dad died without needing that sort of care.  He was just fine before the surgery that gave him blood poisoning and killed him. (Broken foot, of all things) My inlaws are older than my mom but both are very healthy at this point, thank God.  I would call her Miss Speed Demon.  She seems like she has ADHD! I really think she does.  I can be talking to her, and this has gone on for over 25 years, and she will just start talking about something else like I wasn’t saying anything.  Cannot be still, never could.  Always needing something to do.  I told her she should ask her doc about it.  She just laughed.  Well, if my FIL can stand it, I guess I can at this point.  :) You are a good person, D, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise and don’t believe them if they do.  You have a tough job, yet  a loving mother. The one thing that bothers me at times about children caring for their elderly parents, some tell all of the details of the care to whoever will listen.  I have seen  that with my MIL.  I know she just needed to talk but I believe in always upholding a person’s dignity and keeping many things private.  That’s just me, I guess.  I have never read anything that would degrade your mother.  You are respectful, and I totally respect that. Have a good day tomorrow.  I hope you are feeling better. Love, Vicki I think it’s easier to take care of a parent if their infirmities come on gradually, as Mom’s have. I’m not sure how I could have coped if she’d suddenly gone from dynamic to invalid status. She’s 84 now.  She can still walk using her walker, although we take the push chair when we know the walk will be too long for her minimal stamina. She feeds herself and dresses herself (with my assistance on the bra-hooking operation <lol), and handles the toilet by herself. Her mind is still pretty sharp, although I can see a little increased mental confusion.  It’s minor and infrequent, so I’m not freaking out about possible Alzheimers yet. What I do for her is mostly a host of small things — reaching things she can’t bend to get, reading small print for her, opening packages and jars, preparing meals (she can’t stand up long enough to cook), and picking up things she’s dropped.  And her bath. She can’t keep her arms raised up long enough to shampoo, and she can’t handle the back-brush anymore, so I do her hair and wash her back.  I also fix the cable when she pushes the wrong buttons on the remote, and I remind her about taking her Tylenol before bed so she won’t wake up in the night with arthritic pains.  I drive her to all her appointments, push the chair if we take it. I call in her prescriptions and pick them up.  Any phone call requiring things like "press one to…" I do, because she gets a little panicky and pushes the wrong buttons.  I buy large-print books for her because her eyesight is too weak for glasses to help now. I rub Tiger Balm on her shoulders and neck when the arthritis flares up there. She does have Parkinson’s Disease.  The medication, Sinemet, is still controlling most of the symptoms.  Parkinson’s came on rather late in her life, so chances are she won’t progress to the stage when the meds no longer work.  I dearly hope that’s the case. If the disease does progress, her mind will stay clear, but her body will not work, and she will need to be lifted and cleaned and fed and all those things. She won’t be able to communicate verbally. She will feel humiliated at being a burden, and it will be hard on me physically and emotionally.  We’ve talked about the possibility that she will reach that stage, and she wants me to get someone to take care of her.  I will do it as long as I am able, but there may come a time when I have to have a professional here.  I can’t abide the thought of her in a nursing home — the good ones are way beyond our means, and the rest are just horrible. I’ve seen a few, and I’ll keep her at home, thank you. Anyway, I’m not doing anything particularly heroic. I just hope heroism isn’t going to be required of me in the future.  I’m afraid of failing her. Welllllllll that went on a little too long <LOL Today was her and Dad’s wedding anniversary, so she was a little melancholy today. I got her to laugh a couple of times, so maybe that helped. Dad died in 1981 and we both miss him still. Okay, enough from me for now. Love Deirdre

Deirdre, I think "heroism" is just some subjective term.. nothing anyone ever labels themselves, but something other people do consider heroic.  I know.. I’ve done things and people gasp in awe of me.. and I’m like, "huh?".. Sweetie.. you’d do it whether it came on fast or slow. Easier.. there is no easy way, and I think I speak with authority on that.  There is nothing easy about it, no matter how it happens.  But I do know that you are blessed to have memories like this.  Right now, it’s hard and bittersweet and a mixture of so many feelings and thoughts.. later.. it will just be things you are really glad you did. You’ll be thankful you made her life easier and you’ll know that she had you to trust and rely on at a time in her life when she needed you.  Life comes full circle.. and it’s okay.  It really is. It’s how it’s supposed to be.  It is  a difficult realization, but it will just be wisdom someday.. this is how life works. There is beauty in it. I wish I had a daughter. Thank you for sharing. It brought back painful memories.. but also important ones.  You helped me. Love you, Sally — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. There were a couple of little scabs on her scalp from where she scratches too long.  I reminded her not to scratch very long, and she said she tries to catch herself before it bleeds. I came in my room and sat here– my pulse was racing, I was breathing fast and shallowly. I took a half a Klonopin and closed my eyes. I saw a picture of Mom in my mind, only she was baby-size, and she was in a baby’s bath basin, and I wanted to cry because I never wanted to be a mother, yet she’s so precious to me. I am waiting for her to finish — she washes all the rest of her by herself. (a couple of minutes later) She called me in to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles so she could get off her bath bench without knocking them over. I waited in the hall while she got her land legs back and came out, then I went in and turned off the water, wrung out the foam piece we put on the floor (to catch all the sprays and spills), rinsed her washcloth in cold water and wrung it well (her hands are too weak to wring anything), and hung it to dry, and I picked up the soap she apologized for dropping. And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck.

<snip – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Dear D, I watched my MIL go through that a few years ago with both parents.  Paw Paw and Memaw lived well into their 90’s and had a full productive life until around their late 80’s.  Paw Paw was first.  There are 3 daughters and one son.  The daughters joined forces and they bathed him, clothed him and helped take care of him.  (They were married 70 years)  I will never forget my MIL telling me about the first  time she had to bathe her daddy.  She cried and it was upsetting to her and she is one of the strongest people I know.  He was a very distinguisted gentleman, one of the very few you see anymore.  The daughters were wonderful taking care of him and helping Memaw who was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s at the time.  The son did what he could.  Once Paw Paw passed away we all had Memaw to care for and help.  She couldn’t live alone anymore.  The children all took turns having her for a week at a time.  It was hard on them but my MIL said it was also rewarding to be able to pay back all of the love their parents had given them many years ago. Memaw  is gone now, also.  We always try to celebrate how wonderful they were and ALIVE and young for so long.  I am glad your mom has a sense of humor, or at least it sounds that way if she chuckled about the role reversal.  I admire you, D, because I just don’t know how I could do what you are doing.  I have a weak stomach about that sort of thing.  My mom is fairly young, nearly 63, but I have already told my sisters that I am not sure how I will handle  that stage.  My MIL says eventually you get used to it.  I don’t know.  I guess you cross that path when you get there.  Dad died without needing that sort of care.  He was just fine before the surgery that gave him blood poisoning and killed him. (Broken foot, of all things) My inlaws are older than my mom but both are very healthy at this point, thank God.  I would call her Miss Speed Demon.  She seems like she has ADHD! I really think she does.  I can be talking to her, and this has gone on for over 25 years, and she will just start talking about something else like I wasn’t saying anything.  Cannot be still, never could.  Always needing something to do.  I told her she should ask her doc about it.  She just laughed.  Well, if my FIL can stand it, I guess I can at this point.  :) You are a good person, D, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise and don’t believe them if they do.  You have a tough job, yet  a loving mother. The one thing that bothers me at times about children caring for their elderly parents, some tell all of the details of the care to whoever will listen.  I have seen  that with my MIL.  I know she just needed to talk but I believe in always upholding a person’s dignity and keeping many things private.  That’s just me, I guess.  I have never read anything that would degrade your mother.  You are respectful, and I totally respect that. Have a good day tomorrow.  I hope you are feeling better. Love, Vicki

I think it’s easier to take care of a parent if their infirmities come on gradually, as Mom’s have. I’m not sure how I could have coped if she’d suddenly gone from dynamic to invalid status. She’s 84 now.  She can still walk using her walker, although we take the push chair when we know the walk will be too long for her minimal stamina. She feeds herself and dresses herself (with my assistance on the bra-hooking operation <lol), and handles the toilet by herself. Her mind is still pretty sharp, although I can see a little increased mental confusion.  It’s minor and infrequent, so I’m not freaking out about possible Alzheimers yet. What I do for her is mostly a host of small things — reaching things she can’t bend to get, reading small print for her, opening packages and jars, preparing meals (she can’t stand up long enough to cook), and picking up things she’s dropped.  And her bath. She can’t keep her arms raised up long enough to shampoo, and she can’t handle the back-brush anymore, so I do her hair and wash her back.  I also fix the cable when she pushes the wrong buttons on the remote, and I remind her about taking her Tylenol before bed so she won’t wake up in the night with arthritic pains.  I drive her to all her appointments, push the chair if we take it. I call in her prescriptions and pick them up.  Any phone call requiring things like "press one to…" I do, because she gets a little panicky and pushes the wrong buttons.  I buy large-print books for her because her eyesight is too weak for glasses to help now. I rub Tiger Balm on her shoulders and neck when the arthritis flares up there. She does have Parkinson’s Disease.  The medication, Sinemet, is still controlling most of the symptoms.  Parkinson’s came on rather late in her life, so chances are she won’t progress to the stage when the meds no longer work.  I dearly hope that’s the case. If the disease does progress, her mind will stay clear, but her body will not work, and she will need to be lifted and cleaned and fed and all those things. She won’t be able to communicate verbally. She will feel humiliated at being a burden, and it will be hard on me physically and emotionally.  We’ve talked about the possibility that she will reach that stage, and she wants me to get someone to take care of her.  I will do it as long as I am able, but there may come a time when I have to have a professional here.  I can’t abide the thought of her in a nursing home — the good ones are way beyond our means, and the rest are just horrible. I’ve seen a few, and I’ll keep her at home, thank you. Anyway, I’m not doing anything particularly heroic. I just hope heroism isn’t going to be required of me in the future.  I’m afraid of failing her. Welllllllll that went on a little too long <LOL Today was her and Dad’s wedding anniversary, so she was a little melancholy today. I got her to laugh a couple of times, so maybe that helped. Dad died in 1981 and we both miss him still. Okay, enough from me for now. Love Deirdre — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. There were a couple of little scabs on her scalp from where she scratches too long.  I reminded her not to scratch very long, and she said she tries to catch herself before it bleeds. I came in my room and sat here– my pulse was racing, I was breathing fast and shallowly. I took a half a Klonopin and closed my eyes. I saw a picture of Mom in my mind, only she was baby-size, and she was in a baby’s bath basin, and I wanted to cry because I never wanted to be a mother, yet she’s so precious to me. I am waiting for her to finish — she washes all the rest of her by herself. (a couple of minutes later) She called me in to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles so she could get off her bath bench without knocking them over. I waited in the hall while she got her land legs back and came out, then I went in and turned off the water, wrung out the foam piece we put on the floor (to catch all the sprays and spills), rinsed her washcloth in cold water and wrung it well (her hands are too weak to wring anything), and hung it to dry, and I picked up the soap she apologized for dropping. And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre

I have had a lot of trouble with my mother.  She is in a nursing home. If she would have used her head, she would not be there.  The problems she caused have caused my anxiety to wax.  It is funny, I don’t want to share with you the problems I had with her.  I just know that I really go through my mother’s day cards to find something that does not say "Mother, you were always there and you always comforted me, etc, etc, etc.".  In fact, I really hate having to sort mother’s day cards!!!!!!!  I was there at the home yesterday.  When I left, she said "I am really afraid".  What can I do.  Physically, she has everything there that she needs.  She has a son that looks after her.  I will have nobody to look after me.  As I said, I could really go into this.  I don’t want to. I know I have to deal with anxiety that will just not go away.  I live with it the best way I can.  When I have to take a pill go make it go away, I take my pill.  I am not going to display any of the crazyness that I had to observe when I grew up.  Mom set herself up in her position.  I can leave or hang up the phone when I don’t want to deal with it.   Fred — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

Deirdre:  I’ve had little time to post lately, with house-buying and house-selling craziness, but wanted to say how touched I was by the post about bathing your mom.  Clearly you are savoring your time with your mother. It’s nice, too, that you had that moment of generation-swap recognition when you nagged her about lathering up.  :-) xxoo Anne — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

I hope you are as well as I am well but more well, as well, or something

Well, I’m as well as well can be expected. Or something. Ian — I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just gonna ask where they’re goin’, and hook up with ‘em later. (Mitch Hedburg) http://sundry.ws/ — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. There were a couple of little scabs on her scalp from where she scratches too long.  I reminded her not to scratch very long, and she said she tries to catch herself before it bleeds. I came in my room and sat here– my pulse was racing, I was breathing fast and shallowly. I took a half a Klonopin and closed my eyes. I saw a picture of Mom in my mind, only she was baby-size, and she was in a baby’s bath basin, and I wanted to cry because I never wanted to be a mother, yet she’s so precious to me. I am waiting for her to finish — she washes all the rest of her by herself. (a couple of minutes later) She called me in to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles so she could get off her bath bench without knocking them over. I waited in the hall while she got her land legs back and came out, then I went in and turned off the water, wrung out the foam piece we put on the floor (to catch all the sprays and spills), rinsed her washcloth in cold water and wrung it well (her hands are too weak to wring anything), and hung it to dry, and I picked up the soap she apologized for dropping. And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a little. I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre

Dear D, I watched my MIL go through that a few years ago with both parents.  Paw Paw and Memaw lived well into their 90’s and had a full productive life until around their late 80’s.  Paw Paw was first.  There are 3 daughters and one son.  The daughters joined forces and they bathed him, clothed him and helped take care of him.  (They were married 70 years)  I will never forget my MIL telling me about the first  time she had to bathe her daddy.  She cried and it was upsetting to her and she is one of the strongest people I know.  He was a very distinguisted gentleman, one of the very few you see anymore.  The daughters were wonderful taking care of him and helping Memaw who was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s at the time.  The son did what he could.  Once Paw Paw passed away we all had Memaw to care for and help.  She couldn’t live alone anymore.  The children all took turns having her for a week at a time.  It was hard on them but my MIL said it was also rewarding to be able to pay back all of the love their parents had given them many years ago. Memaw  is gone now, also.  We always try to celebrate how wonderful they were and ALIVE and young for so long.  I am glad your mom has a sense of humor, or at least it sounds that way if she chuckled about the role reversal.  I admire you, D, because I just don’t know how I could do what you are doing.  I have a weak stomach about that sort of thing.  My mom is fairly young, nearly 63, but I have already told my sisters that I am not sure how I will handle  that stage.  My MIL says eventually you get used to it.  I don’t know.  I guess you cross that path when you get there.  Dad died without needing that sort of care.  He was just fine before the surgery that gave him blood poisoning and killed him. (Broken foot, of all things) My inlaws are older than my mom but both are very healthy at this point, thank God.  I would call her Miss Speed Demon.  She seems like she has ADHD! I really think she does.  I can be talking to her, and this has gone on for over 25 years, and she will just start talking about something else like I wasn’t saying anything.  Cannot be still, never could.  Always needing something to do.  I told her she should ask her doc about it.  She just laughed.  Well, if my FIL can stand it, I guess I can at this point.  :) You are a good person, D, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise and don’t believe them if they do.  You have a tough job, yet  a loving mother. The one thing that bothers me at times about children caring for their elderly parents, some tell all of the details of the care to whoever will listen.  I have seen  that with my MIL.  I know she just needed to talk but I believe in always upholding a person’s dignity and keeping many things private.  That’s just me, I guess.  I have never read anything that would degrade your mother.  You are respectful, and I totally respect that. Have a good day tomorrow.  I hope you are feeling better. Love, Vicki — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre, I think you’re doing a wonderful thing for your mom, and it *is* tough … but you’re making it through, and helping out in the process. Give yourself the credit you deserve. Oh, and don’t forget to laugh sometimes. It really helps. (It might not at *this* moment, but, you know, when you’re feeling a little bit better.) Hope you’re well, Ian

Thank you, my friend. I *do* know I’m doing a good thing. And I manage to laugh at least once a day, even if I have to wake Bert up from a sound sleep to do it. <lol I just have this nagging little wish that this weren’t so emotionally taxing. I’m getting over the cough, slowly but surely. I hope you are as well as I am well but more well, as well, or something Deirdre — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. There were a couple of little scabs on her scalp from where she scratches too long.  I reminded her not to scratch very long, and she said she tries to catch herself before it bleeds. I came in my room and sat here– my pulse was racing, I was breathing fast and shallowly. I took a half a Klonopin and closed my eyes. I saw a picture of Mom in my mind, only she was baby-size, and she was in a baby’s bath basin, and I wanted to cry because I never wanted to be a mother, yet she’s so precious to me. I am waiting for her to finish — she washes all the rest of her by herself. (a couple of minutes later) She called me in to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles so she could get off her bath bench without knocking them over. I waited in the hall while she got her land legs back and came out, then I went in and turned off the water, wrung out the foam piece we put on the floor (to catch all the sprays and spills), rinsed her washcloth in cold water and wrung it well (her hands are too weak to wring anything), and hung it to dry, and I picked up the soap she apologized for dropping. And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre

Dear deidre this posting moves me very much ! I think you are a wonder There are no words for what I feel reading this But it makes me love you even more Love from Anna — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

Hi, Deirdre, Maybe your anxiety was from the emotional piece you were dealing with, seeing your mother as a baby.  You are a good caretaker to her and I can imagine she truly appreciates you! smiles, Elise

Yes — it was sort of a shock to "see" her as an infant. I do the best I can with what I’ve got. I think I’d have fled in some kind of despair long ago if she didn’t appreciate me.  When I hear about people who don’t get along with their parents for whatever reason, I feel so bad for them — I’m lucky. Deirdre — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – <gently snipped ::And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful ::all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, ::when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers ::with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. :: ::I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. ::Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a ::little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. Dear Deirdre, It`s funny that you wrote this today. The woman I care for… was telling me how she took care of her elderly mother for a few years before her death. She talked of how the roles of child and parent get reversed as the parent gets older. It got me thinking and wondering how it would be to take care of my mother. I mean, really take care of her. The images I had…. pained me to my core. I think I understand your sadness…. and also the beauty of being able to repay your mom for being such a good and loving mother to you. Your mom is blessed to have you….. as you are blessed to have her. (((((Deirdre & Mom))))) Jackie

I have read, as everyone has I’m sure, many instances of parent-child role reversal, and I would always just nod my head. But you just don’t know the depth of feeling until you’re in it. When I said to her, "Now scrub that neck! I want to see suds!" we exchanged a look and a chuckle that acknowledged that role reversal. I’m glad we could laugh about it.  I wish everybody could meet her — she’s a peach. (((((Jackie))))) Deirdre — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. There were a couple of little scabs on her scalp from where she scratches too long.  I reminded her not to scratch very long, and she said she tries to catch herself before it bleeds. I came in my room and sat here– my pulse was racing, I was breathing fast and shallowly. I took a half a Klonopin and closed my eyes. I saw a picture of Mom in my mind, only she was baby-size, and she was in a baby’s bath basin, and I wanted to cry because I never wanted to be a mother, yet she’s so precious to me. I am waiting for her to finish — she washes all the rest of her by herself. (a couple of minutes later) She called me in to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles so she could get off her bath bench without knocking them over. I waited in the hall while she got her land legs back and came out, then I went in and turned off the water, wrung out the foam piece we put on the floor (to catch all the sprays and spills), rinsed her washcloth in cold water and wrung it well (her hands are too weak to wring anything), and hung it to dry, and I picked up the soap she apologized for dropping. And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre Dear deidre this posting moves me very much ! I think you are a wonder There are no words for what I feel reading this But it makes me love you even more Love from Anna

((((((((((((((Anna))))))))))))) — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

Hi, Deirdre, Maybe your anxiety was from the emotional piece you were dealing with, seeing your mother as a baby.  You are a good caretaker to her and I can imagine she truly appreciates you! smiles, Elise

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I just finished washing her back, and shampooing/conditioning her hair. We talked about how her mother taught her how to bathe me when I was a newborn, and I teased her about using enough soap on her neck. There were a couple of little scabs on her scalp from where she scratches too long.  I reminded her not to scratch very long, and she said she tries to catch herself before it bleeds. I came in my room and sat here– my pulse was racing, I was breathing fast and shallowly. I took a half a Klonopin and closed my eyes. I saw a picture of Mom in my mind, only she was baby-size, and she was in a baby’s bath basin, and I wanted to cry because I never wanted to be a mother, yet she’s so precious to me. I am waiting for her to finish — she washes all the rest of her by herself. (a couple of minutes later) She called me in to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles so she could get off her bath bench without knocking them over. I waited in the hall while she got her land legs back and came out, then I went in and turned off the water, wrung out the foam piece we put on the floor (to catch all the sprays and spills), rinsed her washcloth in cold water and wrung it well (her hands are too weak to wring anything), and hung it to dry, and I picked up the soap she apologized for dropping. And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. I feel terribly old right now. Deirdre — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

– The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

I feel terribly old right now.

Deirdre, I think you’re doing a wonderful thing for your mom, and it *is* tough … but you’re making it through, and helping out in the process. Give yourself the credit you deserve. Oh, and don’t forget to laugh sometimes. It really helps. (It might not at *this* moment, but, you know, when you’re feeling a little bit better.) Hope you’re well, Ian — I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just gonna ask where they’re goin’, and hook up with ‘em later. (Mitch Hedburg) http://sundry.ws/ — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

Response:

<gently snipped ::And I kept seeing her as a little child. It’s beautiful and it’s painful ::all at the same time. Mostly painful at this moment. In a few minutes, ::when she’s dressed, I’ll set her hair on those tiny little brush rollers ::with the pink plastic picks, and we’ll await the grocery delivery together. :: ::I hope the Klonopin hurries up because I’m on the edge of crying. ::Writing about it helps, though. My hands aren’t shaking too bad, just a ::little.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes. Dear Deirdre, It`s funny that you wrote this today. The woman I care for… was telling me how she took care of her elderly mother for a few years before her death. She talked of how the roles of child and parent get reversed as the parent gets older. It got me thinking and wondering how it would be to take care of my mother. I mean, really take care of her. The images I had…. pained me to my core. I think I understand your sadness…. and also the beauty of being able to repay your mom for being such a good and loving mother to you. Your mom is blessed to have you….. as you are blessed to have her. (((((Deirdre & Mom))))) Jackie ~*~It takes a real storm in the average person’s life to make him realize how much worrying he has done over the squalls~*~   ~ Bruce Fairchild Barton — The charter is available at: http://readystump.algebra.com/~asapm

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