Un-drowning myself

On my way to posting, I wanted to share this fabulous word in Spanish:  desahogar.  It means, to vent or relieve or unburden oneself.  If taken literally, you might say it means to un-drown oneself - "des"(un) "ahogar" (drown).  So, when I feel like I'm drowning in stress or worries or difficulties caring for my mother, I can "desahogar", either here or with my sister or a friend, and it helps.

I booked the flight when I'll take my mother to stay with my brother. It gives me an end date for my time with her, creating both sadness but a tremendous amount of relief. The sadness is that it may well be the last time I talk with her, since not long thereafter, we will retire out of the country.  And, the sadness is seeing her being cared for by my brother instead of by me. He will be fine, and while there will be some advantages (she will live in his home - I think), but some disadvantages (it sounds like he will hire someone to 'watch her' many many hours).  And, it's not me.  The the plus side is that I will have the freedom to start this next phase of my life, a true treasure.

Meantime, my sister has written me of her reactions. In fairness to her, since this is not her blog, I will just leave it that she is feeling sad that she is not more part of this transfer. I feel guilty, like I did something wrong, though I know we have been talking about this (including her) for months ... and my pulling the trigger on the airplane ride just represents the final act of removing her from the Midwest where both of us life. But all these old family dramas play out, even in a way competing to be the 'best child', overtly or covertly or unknowingly or inadvertently.

I have been getting emails from my brother and his wife, and some seem to smack of a bit of self-righteousness and superiority. Maybe my emails to them have seemed that way over the last years, but I don't think so.  I'm trying not to be hypersensitive.  And, if that's the price I pay to have my freedom, then, fine.  Brother, you may have the blue ribbon now, Best Child, 2012-20??.

But I'm sad that my sister is troubled and feels excluded.

I visited Mom yesterday, and some conversation shook me to the bone. Somehow I was talking about my grandchildren, 9 and 11, and about their growing-up years.  She mentioned something vague about when I was that age, and as we sat quietly, I began to reflect on how horribly unhappy I was in my teen years.  Though I have rarely done so, I shared with her how miserable I was in those years, and told about a time when I was doing dishes at the sink, looking outside, and desperately wanting to shatter a glass and cut open my veins to kill myself.  When I finished telling her that, the room was quiet. She turned to me and said, "Where was I?"  I said, "Mom, I don't know.  You were 45 and had your own life to lead."  (Not the greatest response, but she was just not someone I could have gone to.)  We sat quietly some more.  Then she said, "You always kept things to yourself, closed off".  (Yes true, out of survival.)  More quiet.  Then she said, "Well, I tried" referring to her efforts back then.  (No, she didn't, not much if at all.)

She didn't see my tears - not back then, nor yesterday.

As I was cleaning the wineglasses we used last evening, I broke one.  It was the next-to-last wineglass of a set that she really liked.  I apologized, and cleaned it up.  I swear I could almost hear her bring up Kazuki, as she has before.  Kazuki was a prized porcelain Japanese doll/statue, maybe 15", that she received as a young child in about 1925 from an aunt who had traveled to Japan.  It was a treasure, and when I was maybe 3 years old, it was on the hearth of a fireplace, and apparently I broke it.  Mom has brought it up now for six decades, off and on.  I am 61, and I swear that wineglass was Kazuki all over again.  Those unspoken words, those old resentments.  Feeling ashamed for being human.  Finally, Mom's words were, "It was inevitable".

Inevitable.  Jeesh.

So, I have been drowning in sadness since last night.  I'm trying to work through it. To allow myself to be human, to support her in these last weeks here while also supporting and shielding myself.  But it's good to vent, to unburden myself, to "un-drown" myself, to "desahogar" from what has choked me.

A terrible honor

Among my siblings, I support my mother here, my sister supports her father-in-law who lives in a nursing home a couple hours from her house in Iowa, and my brother brought his father-in-law in his home some months ago.  We each have our responsibilities to our senior generation, to one degree or another. 

I received an email from my brother, comparing his father-in-law, 'Ted', to my mother.  It was a lengthy email, more than I'd heard from him in some time, comparing functionality point-by-point.  Ted is much worse than my mother, and my brother and his wife do a great deal of the very-hands-on personal care.  Ted has difficulty (or complete inability) with all of the ADL's (Activities of Daily Living: continence, toileting, transferring, ambulation, dressing and personal care, feeding oneself).  My brother says that if Ted was in a nursing home, he would die, period.  

It was a "you are so lucky" email.  

And, yes, that level of care is not something that I am doing with my mother.  She can use a walker (though slowly with difficulty and frequent rest stops).  She can transfer with difficulty, very slowly getting out of her chair or bed and getting to her walker.  Both the continence and toileting part, she requires complete assistance from the aides at the assisted living home where she lives.  

So, yes, I do have an easier time than he does, though I have been visiting her almost daily for three and a half years, and suspect I'll do it for a couple more.  I would guess that his father-in-law will not survive as long.  His effort is much more intense but will be briefer; my effort is less difficult but much longer. 

My sister is a school teacher, and then spends entire weekends driving to and from visit her father-in-law, grading papers.  Then she has to go back to work on Monday.  Other weekends she comes here to Kansas City area to visit our mother.  

And, amid all this sacrifice, family issues from decades ago arise.  The competitions. The roles and labels we received then.  Old irritations.    

Each of us carries our load, our duty, our responsibility, to the previous generation.  

I told my brother that I view this as a 'terrible honor', to support someone as they approach death.  When elders are feeling vulnerable and helpless, when they can't control their bladder or bowels and feel shame, when they know they have just a short time left ... or, if dementia has robbed them of awareness, they may not even be aware of their fleeting future.  The responsibility can be terrible and overwhelming, but there is a great honor in being that person's sponsor, protector, facilitator, and friend/family at such a vulnerable time.  

My brother is irritated with me - but let's not talk about it!

When we were moving Mom a couple moves ago, I had prepared a lot of her apartment for the move to the nursing home.  I had spent many hours sorting through her things, planning and anticipating the move.  My brother happened to have a business trip here, so happily for all of us, he could help; my sister and her husband were coming down from Iowa. So, we were all there to do the sorting and cleaning out and clearing out. Great. It was a LOT of work - furniture and mementos and clothing and hospice supplies, photos and things both precious and trash-able. A lot of work for a short weekend, and three older adults plus two spouses.

And just to give context, I'll remind you I'm a daughter.  Not the golden son, oh no, I am the daughter.  And I'm the middle child.

In the course of the move, my sister and I noticed that my brother was irritated.

Let's just say that he is used to being Mr Male, Mr In-Charge.

Ummmm..... so am I, except substitute "Ms".  I've managed large and complex projects and high-level work teams in my corporate life, all before I retired.  So, I'm really OK with managing things - I was not fluttering around, all confused and silly, "Oh my I wish there were a MAN here to guide me!"  I am not an insane control freak, but I knew what had to be done, and I knew our resources and time, and I was somewhat directive.

Anyway...  at some point, I'd asked the guys to do something, and my brother just got really tense.

My husband said that my brother made some comment about trying to be accepting.  And my brother has been tense ever since. Somewhat.  Except of course he doesn't really say anything directly.  Just curt, just tiny rudeness. Wisps of smoke, not full flames. I won't bother relating the curt email he sent after ignoring my three weeks' worth of emails.

Oh well.  I'm here, doing my thing.  It's easy for him to want to waltz in every 2-3 months and be Mr In-Charge, but here, life is going on without him.  And we're really very OK.  But it puts a distance between him and me.  And I'm tired of being the one to make peace since I actually feel like putting a bit of fuel on that fire.  So, I'll just let him be the way he is.  And it will go away eventually, yet another wound that only partially heals, waiting for the next cut. Just like my entire history of my life growing up in this family.

My father and my sister had a conversation about me, many years ago.  He literally said, "Nancy and I have a great relationship - we don't talk".  My sister was flabbergasted that he so clearly articulated the matter.  That he was, apparently, so very aware.  And - my brother believes we had a perfect childhood, and aspires to be my father.  I believe he has, for the most part, achieved his goal.