An Unwilling Caregiver

Hi steemit; it's been a while. How's it going? Sorry to hear about your ex, that sucks. Oh me? Well...

There is a sort of rite of passage that those with parents experience at least once in their lives (for those without parents, my apologies; your struggle is real and different). For some, this happens slowly and purposefully over time. For others, it is abrupt and mind blowing, to put it mildly.

About 6 weeks ago, I received a call that my mother was being rushed to the hospital with dangerously low blood pressure caused by an advancing infection brought on by an abscess due to diverticulitis, which I cannot spell. I hopped on the first plane out and spent the next 10 days in a whirlwind of advocacy, bureaucracy, facilitation, and not to underplay the emotional turbulence brought on by your parent - and you - facing their own mortality. I sobbed in front of a doctor, screamed at him the next day, begged social workers, and experienced the abject failings of the American medical system for those who are anything other than elite. My deep dive into social security, medicare, elder care options (and costs), and what pensions actually are versus what they should be left me disillusioned to say the least.

On top of the bureaucratic schadenfreude, there was a blazing hot spotlight directed at issues from my past that I'd naively thought were behind me. Psychological manipulation, family abandonment, and the skewed reality of a hoarder were thrust into my conscious mind. I'd spent the better part of 8 years sorting through this baggage, but found myself knee-deep in that existential shit show once again.

When I left at the end of April, it was with the knowledge that I'd be coming back a month later to help her through colorectal surgery, process her retirement, and ensure she has a place to live when all is said and done. The sense of dread was overwhelming and it took more than a week to start to feel like myself again.

Over the next month, I continued navigating retirement from another state, but I also discovered an unnamed club of those with similar experiences, who have been intimate with a loved one's mortality and of their own past rampaging through their present. They all say similar things: "it's awful and I'm so sorry this is happening to you"; "it was the worst insert-timeframe-here of my life"; "I still feel guilt about the relief I felt when mom/dad/loved one finally passed"; etc. No one talks about it in great depth or provides much in the way of details because, frankly, it hurts too god damn much. You see yourself in your loved one and them in you. You love, hate, resent, and cherish them all at the same time. Many also find that other family members don't "step up," "do their part," or simply "help," leaving one person to shoulder most if not all of the burden (wc deliberate).

Six weeks later, I write this sitting on a hospital room, listening to her sleep and eyeing her oxygen levels. Her social security, medicare, and pension applications are in process, the lease on her new independent living apartment is signed, and her surgery went great (the next two weeks are critical, so no celebrations yet). I still see me in her and her in me. It still frightens me, she still prison-shanks my heart when she can (though admittedly less), but she's my mom and I love her, and so I must also love - most - of the parts we share. This time has been extraordinarily difficult and I couldn't have handled it if it wasn't for the tremendous love and support of my friends who live there, my mother's BFF, and my SO (so much love and gratitude to these people).

We are all terribly flawed creatures. Denial, anger, hurt, rumination, aggression, insensitivity, selfishness, or any other borderline/not-so-borderline psychosis makes life a fucking train wreck sometimes. But those flawed creatures are also what stand us up, helping us in big ways and small, making the train wrecks a little more manageable. Forgiveness, acceptance, patience, sympathy, and understanding can take you a long way, but letting go of the times when you just couldn't muster those sentiments is ok too. This has been a very sad time in my life, but it's made me stronger and has proven to both myself and others that I am a resilient, giving, and determined woman who knows how to fucking hustle. I hope my mother makes it through this and lives for many more years, but regardless, at least I'll have this growth in my back pocket.