Care Giving For the Demented Is Like Playing Russian Roulette

I think my mom has a UTI.  She is disagreeable.  She doesn't like me.  She doesn't know who I am.  She won't eat.  She thinks I'm keeping her prisoner.  

"I want to talk to my family.  Please! Let me talk to my family."  My mom begged me this afternoon.

I didn't respond very well to this, mostly because it hurt my feelings.  I couldn't rise above her insanity, even though I know it's not my mom talking.  She really doesn't know who I am.  To her, I am the warden in the Nursing Home where she thinks she lives.   You know, maybe this is the sign that I have been looking for... she needs to be in a home.  

Today, she doesn't know that she is living in my home with me, the same place she's lived for the past two and a half years.  My mom is delusional.

This morning we dropped off a urine sample at the clinic.  I was told that if we call at 1:30 we'd have the results and the doctor would prescribe an antibiotic.  I waited for 1:30.  It was a very long wait where every minute seemed like an hour.

During my wait, my mom talked and talked.  She was upset.  She wants to go home.  She's carrying her brother Auggie's picture around with her, conversing with him.   I could only hear her side.  It was similar to overhearing someone talk on the telephone.  It was wild. 

I called the hospital.  The results were not in yet.  Oh boy.  I really need antibiotics for my mom.  I know she has a UTI because of her behavior, it's difficult.  The nurse told me that the results were still pending and we wouldn't know until Monday, 3 days away.

Uh oh.  

I told the nurse about my mom's birthday and our family gathering that we have planned.  A gathering that she is looking forward to attending.  The nurse put me on hold.  She came back and told me that we'd have to wait until Monday.  

While the nurse was on the phone telling me that we wouldn't have the results in time for the weekend, my mom got off her chair and stood next to me.  

Leaning in toward the phone, she began hollering, "Help me!  I want to see my family.  She is lying.  Don't believe her.  Help me!  I don't want to be here.  I want to go home."  My mom went on and on like someone who is in a nursing home.

My mom believes that she is in a nursing home and I am keeping her prisoner.  She believes the call that I had made to the hospital to check her results, was to "turn her in."  She thinks the men in white coats are coming for her.  Oh, how I wish!

The nurse was great; she ignored my mom's screams.  Instead she took our information and is having the doctor call in a prescription for antibiotics.  

I hung up the phone; my mother was pissed, no she was furious.  I hate it when my mother's mad at me, it's always sucked.  In her demented state, her wrath is 100 times worse.  She hasn't been this mad with me since that time she caught me smoking a joint under the peach tree with my sister and brother... I was 19.

I thought quick.

"Would you like me to call Donna for you?"  I asked her in a calm voice.

"Yes."  She said.

I dialed my sister in work and had my mom talk to her.  My mom told her that she doesn't like the nursing home that she's in because "the lady" (me) won't let her go out.  It's nearly 100 fucking degrees outside and humid, not a good time for a senior to sit in the sun.  My mom doesn't know enough to come in out of the sun and or heat.  

Mom doesn't know me today.  I couldn't feel worse.   I know that Care Giving is hard; I know that we can't take things personally, but I still do.  My mom's voice haunts me, hearing over and over again words of rejection...

"You are not my daughter.  You are not my family!  I want my family.  You are not keeping me from seeing my family tomorrow.  I can't stand the sight of you."  

I know it's time for her to go because she is developing an aversion toward me.  She doesn't trust me.  She won't listen to me.  She believes that I'm a bad person who wants to hurt her.  

She is watching The People's Court with me and talking at the screen.  She got mad and blamed me because they went to commercial break.  She is into the commercial, ready to dial the number for a free consultation about debt consolidation.  Like a shot with no warning, she barked, "I can't even stay in the same room with you!" as she stormed out of the room.  

A minute later she was back.  She sat on the edge of her chair, watching TV as though she's there and interacting with the people.  She is clearly upset with me; she does not like the sight of me.  I don't know how I can be her Care Giver if she hates me so much.  I really don't know how it happened.  I am going to take a guess that she believes I'm the enemy because I took control of her life.  I had to.  

Last night she didn't even remember how to take her shirt off and put on her nightgown.  I had to help her.  I still don't know how I got her to let me assist her.  

My mom’s dementia is like playing Russian roulette, you never know if there’s a bullet in the chamber of the gun being held to your head.