A Bit Lost

Today I woke up early after retiring early (with a throbbing headache from crying), and got dressed and tried to decide if I would drive up to the Hospice House or not. I did have some errands to run in town, so before I left, I stopped over to consult with Dad, and he had already decided to stay home today, and due to appointments, he will stay home tomorrow, too. He had called the facility at eight in the morning, but Mom was still sleeping, but the staff was reassuring and promised to let Mom know he had called and that he loves her.

It was then that I decided I was too emotionally drained to be of much use, and because it is a long drive, and I'll need to spread my visits out, I, too, will stay home today. Dad did just check in with me to let me know he did speak briefly with Mom, and she sounded okay. She was very sleepy, but she did hear his voice. Then the staff told Dad that she did complain of neck pain and pain in her sides last night. They also reported that they gave her a bath this morning and washed her hair.

I continue to feel weepy and sad, yet I also admit there is a sense that it is out of my hands, at this point, but the hands she are in now are better than what Dad and I could be providing, we both admit. I just can't help feeling worried that she may feel abandoned by us.. but I hope to remedy that by calling her in a couple of hours, and hopefully, I'll be able to speak with her for a minute. And perhaps it's worse for me than it is for her right now.

Dad and I both feel a bit lost at the moment. When I went next door earlier, I was okay until I saw the living room and all of the residuals from our recent "battles;" the pillows strewn about, the blankets a tossed every which way atop the couches, the footstools askew. The books and magazines piled around, half-read in desperate ploys to appease and distract her from her woe and angst. The vase of wilted daffodils Chris brought on Sunday. Seeing it all, and hearing how quite their house was, brought a fresh swell of tears. The indent in the cushions of the couch, nearly still warm from the many hours her body has lain there. It was a bit much for me, and I decided it was best to leave and tidy it up on another day.

So, I am home now and mucking about best I can, like a child reaching around in the dark with out the routine of keeping eyes and ears out for Mom. For now, she is safe and cared for, and Dad and I have the room to breath a little and work on some of our own problems.

But the thought of Mom is always there. It is still too early to speculate, but we will continue to hope that the plan carries through and the team at the House can stabilize Mom so that caring for her again, back home, will be a little bit less overwhelming. We will just have to wait and see.