It’s been weeks of turmoil on top of the usual crap. My body is shutting down with migraines and vomiting. It isn’t pleasant.
This week hospice declared they might discharge my grandmother for not declining enough. We have two months before we’ll have to begin palliative care if hospice goes. Meaning I will have to do even more than I am right now.
The washer has been out for weeks but may return next week so that will be a load off, pun intended because puns are fun!
But today was too much. I tried to rest and there was a caregiver this morning but, in the early afternoon, she flipped out. She was feeling sensations down her left side and accused an unknown person of poking her butt. She’d scream and shout until I checked in. Then she’d call me a liar when I tried to explain the situation as well as other berating terms. I’d leave her to scream and shout some more, allowing her 15-20 minutes to calm down, meanwhile her voice becoming so hoarse it’s just sad. In this span of time, I change her diaper twice, settle her with reason, present her dinner (two slices of pizza as she insisted), and put on a movie. She mostly just needs time but it’s a lot to get through.
It’s a lot. I say that but I reprimand myself for “Not handling things better because I should be able to handle this.” At therapy today, my therapist told me that that tells her I’ve endured a lot if I think this is a normal baseline for stress and anguish.
I guess this feels normal. I feel like there was a brief 3 month window in my life when I felt “happy” and that things were going “all right”. Everything else feels like struggle. Struggle feels like my baseline but I hear that’s not normal.
My therapists also tell me I’m doing really well despite the struggle. One of them assigned me a self esteem journal and, after a week, I realize there is a lot of positive things happening. That I’m doing and that loved ones do for me. This week she gave me a gratitude journal to try but I still feel too raw from exposure to Nana to start just yet.
Still, as I watched the dance scene from the new West Side Story I put on for her, I couldn’t help but cry. I’m nowhere near working on a production of that level either as a performer, writer, songwriter, director, or anything. I’m here doing “noble” work that I reserve the right to complain about because it’s hard while also committing myself to continuing because I love my family. But still, at times, she berates me. Still I must keep a cool head when dealing with a person who is slowly losing her mind. Still it’s hard. It’s always hard. But I always pull through. Pulling through may not always be sustainable but I will always try.
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