Yes, a move to a nursing home.

Yes, mom will move to a nursing home, on Friday.  She is still not 'believing' that it is necessary (not believing that she has the incontinence issues, not believing that she has refused help) but accepting.

We visited it today.  It is bright and clean (I guess) and pleasant.  She will have a window, and share a room with Carmen (who promptly fell asleep in her chair after we introduced ourselves).  Mom will have a several pieces of her existing furniture, plus a hospital bed, plus stuff on the wall (photos, her art).

I know she is not thrilled, but is accepting - but what surprises me is my own depression over this move.  It's really so sad.  I know I'll need to do some work to support her (take her to the doctor, change her address, etc) as well as to support her emotionally (visits, pep talks, walk her around). But you'd think this was happening to me. Personally. I'm depressed.

I'm also just getting back from a vacation where we are shopping for "after-she-dies, where-do-we-go" locations.  And I realize she could continue to survive another year, maybe two.

When she first moved here, I recall saying I thought she'd survive maybe 6-9 months.  That was 3 years ago.  Over 3 years ago.  I'm not saying I wish her ill, or even just that I don't appreciate her... just ... we don't know.  We don't know.  And a commitment is for however long it lasts.  Yet - my husband could retire today, and I am already 'retired', courtesy of a couple of layoffs.

I'm the horse in the gate, ready for the gun to go off.  I'm eager for my next adventure in life, but realizing that my commitment here is continuing.  I don't resent it, exactly, but ... when we hear the gunshot, I can promise you that we'll move quickly.

But I remain in a crazy bifurcation - on one side, prancing, antsy, ready to go go go - yet simultaneously creating a new stable routine for my mother, with my daily visits to a nursing home, a new long-term location, a new set of faces to learn, new staff to greet and befriend, new residents to get to know.  New dinner-table, new dinner-companions for Thursday nights. A new place to sit and be ... quiet, be ... still.  And me, prancing, muscles twitching, ready for the next Big Adventure.

Sure, this is about my Mom's move.  But it's also about my ... delay.  My waiting. Until... after.