It's been hell on Earth. I am sick again; exhaustion has captured my being. I cry more than I don't cry.
Yesterday, my mom nearly pulled both of us down the stairs. I was attempting to help her walk up the stairs when she got home. One stair from the top, she had some sort of hallucination. Suddenly, she straightened her legs, stood on her tippy toes and bent forward as she pushed backward.
"Ma! We're going to fall. Stop. Please, stop!!!" I screamed as I hung on for our lives.
Out of breath, I managed to get us off the stairs. My Polish Grandmother was right, I am "strong likem' bull."
My mom's paper thin skin got a tear on the top of her hand. My blood pressure shot up and my head began to pound.
"How am I going to do this?" I cried.
I called everyone yesterday. I tried to get her in on a short term bed somewhere. No one would take her because of her condition. Then, I started searching Google, looking in areas that I didn't look before... I found a place where someone was being discharged today and a bed would open TODAY.
9AM, I visited the home and met the admissions person. The facility is beautiful and perfect for my mom. She will be in the rehabilitation unit and moved once a bed opens in the dementia unit. She'll have physical therapy and speech therapy. She'll have someone watching her round the clock.
I was excited. The admissions person was checking with my mom's insurance to get her admission approved; I jumped in my car and drove home.
"I can see clearly now, the rain has gone..."
The radio had an appropriate song on the radio when I started up my truck. I opened the windows and sang along, out loud and with feeling. I had hope.
Little glitches. Phone calls all day. I sit and wait for my mom to come home, hoping that today is the day I can move her somewhere safer. It's not safe for her or me any longer. Mom's way, way, way too much for one person to manage.
No more day care for my mom. She's too much for them to handle too; they are afraid she'll be hurt.
I am praying.