Exhausting

We've survived the big snow storm.. two days of snow, really. Four inches or so on Tuesday, then the big fourteen inches or so yesterday. I spent some time with Mom yesterday. She spent most of the day on the couch, as usual. Seeing the snow swirling outside of the window made her anxious. Many times she repeated questions. "Is he going out?" "When will he come back?" And I'd have to reply that he wasn't going anywhere, that he is home.

Dad told me today that he broke down and gave Mom one of the prescription mild sedatives last night. He just could not get her to settle down. Then she retired very early, before eight, and though he tries to keep her up a little later, in a way, I'm sure, it's a relief when she goes to bed, because she is so demanding and tiring to be around.

This morning, we awoke early to begin the big snow clean up. Our angel of a neighbor had done the bulk of our driveways last night, which made our work much lighter, though still, there was a lot. We walked over next door, and while I cleared around the porches and walkways, he skimmed off the top of their driveway with the big scoop. Dad had taken off early to get money, pills and food. When I was done, I went inside to wait with Mom for Maria, who was coming today instead of yesterday during the storm. Once she arrived, I said goodbye and went back to my house to do more snow clearing, then I cleaned up myself and gathered up my redeemable bottles and got my grocery list together.

After running my errands, I went back to sit with Mom for a few hours. They were both napping in front of the television when I got there. Poor Dad. He's got to be exhausted.

Mom asked me if I could read to her from our book, so after I moved the washed load of towels and sheets to the dryer, I settled her into her chair and I began to read. Within ten minutes, she asked me to stop.

I resisted, and continued to read a little more. But then she asked me to stop again. So, we got up, walked around a little bit. Then she wanted to lay on the couch. So, I settled her into the couch, and sat quietly in another chair looking at a book. Five minutes later, she called for me.

"I'm here, Mom."

This was when she said something like,

"I just feel like I need to get going."

"Going where, Mom?"

"Home. I need to get home."

Instead of trying to correct her this time, I just said, "Oh, okay."

So, I went to her, she had half risen from the couch, and she said,

"It's getting dark out."

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly.

Then she laid back down, and I tucked her in again.

"Read to me?"

So, I took up from the book again, speaking as softly as I could. We got through a few pages, when she wanted to get up again. She repeated the comment about feeling like she needed to get home. She began to arise again, so I offered to take her downstairs so we could see what Dad was doing (though I suspected, correctly, that he was trying to nap on the little bed in the basement.) We waddled down the stairs, and she complained about how cold it was down there. Then she wanted to lie down with Dad on the little bed.. so I helped her settle into the bed next to Dad, and threw a blanket over them. I went back upstairs.

Not even eight or ten minutes later, I heard her panting as she came crawling back up the stairs. I suggested maybe she was resting too much, maybe she'd like to walk around a little. We walked around the table, through the kitchen, into the bathroom, through their bedroom, back around the table. All the while, she is lurching, panting, with a distant look in her eyes.

Finally, she wanted back to the couch again, this time switching directions and facing me while I sat in a chair. I picked up the book again and I was able to read uninterrupted for a good thirty-five to forty minutes. She had her eyes closed the whole time, but I knew she was listening. Many times, I have to explain again to her who was who in the story. Finally, I stopped, getting tired, and remembering that I needed to retrieve and fold the laundry out of the dryer. She wanted to help, so I told her to stay there and I would bring it upstairs and we would fold together. Even this is a big, confusing deal to her, but we did it.

Dad came up again. I tried turning on the television again, but then Dad suggested we turn it off. Dad laid down on her couch, I suggested to Mom that she tuck him in, like he's always doing for her. She got a little snippy about that, but she did it. Then she sat in her chair, and Dad and I tried to engage her in a little light conversation. Mom kept bowing her head, keeping her eyes closed.

By the time I left, Mom was back on the couch. I said my goodbyes, and I asked her to "be good."

"I will."

Like that means anything. Sigh. Oh well. At least I can leave, Dad is twenty-four seven. It is exhausting. Tomorrow is another day.