And so it begins (or, I hope my parents just drop dead)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

And so it begins
I wondered when this slippery slope would start.

(or, I hope my parents just drop dead)
Well, I don’t mean right now, but just when their time comes.

I should explain that my relationship with my parents is spotty. I avoid my dad as much as possible. No abuse or anything like that, he just never developed any relationship with his kids (me and my younger sister); he’s crude, bigoted, and foulmouthed; and he’s just not very pleasant to be around. So I avoid him and talk to him as little as possible.

I get along with my mother better, but she has issues too. She was good to us kids, but I don’t think she ever really got to know us as real people, just as her kids. We never had heart-to-heart talks about feelings, aspirations, fears, that sort of thing, like I see so many Doper parents worrying about with their own kids. Her advice to me about dealing with bullies and teasing (I was the school whipping kid) was “Just ignore it.” (I don’t think she knew how miserable I really was.) My sex education was a strong but unmentioned “Don’t” (not that it was exactly an issue – see above). As a prodigy who skipped a grade, I was expected to get good grades and go to college, but that was the level of interest in the matter – no asking about how I liked my classes or what I really wanted to do with my life.

As an adult, I can get along with my mother – we can have fun and do things together – but there are some mostly taboo topics: how she should have divorced my dad a long time ago, for example. She’s unhappy and knows it, but is stuck in the rut. She has no personal female friends, just her overbearing sisters and some former co-workers. She’s always been repressed – worried about everything being “proper” and what other people will think of her. And there are just the regular old semi-amusing Seinfeld-Del-Boca-Vista-type annoyances with parents who are getting elderly. (She’s 62, he’s 67.)

They’ve been in mostly stable health so far. My dad has rheumatoid arthritis – still mobile, but his hands are severely deformed and he’s had two joint replacements – and has been a lifelong smoker who will never ever quit. His eating habits are also terrible – he’s always been thin, but he just eats crap. My mother’s main problem is obesity – been battling it all her life. She has severe food issues, probably because it’s one of her few pleasures.

She’s also had osteoathritis in her knees for a while, and on Friday she had the worst one replaced. I offered to come and see her while she was in the hospital (which was supposed to be just over the weekend), but she said it wasn’t necessary and I could come next week after she was home if I wanted. Fine – I would have liked to give her some comapny in the hospital, but I have a ton of (self-employed) work to do and if she is fine with it, I’ll stay home (I’m an hour away). She was going to call with her hospital room and phone numbers when she could.

Phone rings Friday night. I think it’s her. Nope, it’s my dad. (Great.) She’s still groggy but will probably be better tomorrow (Saturday). He gives me the room and phone numbers, and I tell him to tell her to call me when she’s up to it, because I don’t want to disturb her (or her roommate if she has one – I didn’t ask). She had also said that they would have her up and about a lot, off to physical therapy, lunch in the common room, etc.

No call on Saturday. Hm, they must really have her busy. Or something went wrong. I wait until about 5 pm (we are about to leave the house for a while) and try calling her room. No answer. I send her an e-mail through the hospital Web site, telling her that we’ll be gone for a bit, giving her my cell phone number, and hoping that all is OK. I also say that we would like to come for a visit tomorrow (Sunday) if she’s up to it, and hope she can let us know.

She doesn’t call while we’re gone, either home or the cell. I call her room again when we get home, and still no answer. Uh-oh, it’s 8:30 pm. This doesn’t feel good. I suck it up and call their house. He picks up. I ask how come there’s no answer in her room, and he says she was still groggy and loopy at 2 pm and “not reacting well,” so they pulled the plug on her room phone so she could rest. Hopefully she can call me tomorrow. That is the sum total of information he gives me.

Well, fuck.

I keep telling myself that she’s probably just taking a little longer than usual to “come back” after the anesthesia (she was supposed to have a spinal of some sort, not general, but the final decision was to be made just before surgery), and she’ll be fine in a day or two. I did some reading on knee replacement, and while yes there are some risks, they are low and she is in generally good health so this should be routine, if major, surgery.

I just want the phone to ring and hear her voice again, so I don’t have to talk to my dad any more.

I have always said that I hope he goes first, so we can all have some peace for a little while before she goes.

My mother has made me her POA for health care, and I’m the one on deck to put her funeral together when the time comes. I know my sister will be a basket case, and Mr. S has already been through that before with his parents, so he can help me.

And there’s the other part. His parents (who died before I met him) both lingered for several years, with various cancers and a bouquet of other problems. At one point his mother was in so much pain that she begged him to kill her. GOD.

I’m not looking forward to the next 20 or however many years. Not so much because of the “I can’t imagine life without my parents and I don’t want them to die,” but I’m just not looking forward to the discomfort of dealing with severe illness in an already dysfunctional family. If my dad goes first, I’ll have to deal with my mother through all of that. If she goes first, I’ll have to deal with him AND her if there’s a lingering illness, and then, well . . . I’ve said that he’s on his own then. You reap what you sow, and why would I have any interest in taking care of him? Cold, but there it is and I’ve said it. My sister can have him if she wants. She seems to “get along” with him better, although it’s in a weird snide making-fun-of-him-behind-his-back-and-in-front-of-him way, and I think she regards him as just as creepy as I do.

Mr. S helped take care of his dying dad, who was a Grade A alcoholic asshole. I don’t know how he did it. I suppose because even though he has several siblings, he was living “at home” at the time (supporting himself! just moved back to help out) and it was all about the geography, and the fact that he was single, without his own family to worry about.

So here I am, having spilled my guts, trying to get some work done (well not right this second, obviously) and waiting for the phone to ring. Dysfunctional Dopers, please tell me about dealing with your declining parents and make me feel like I’m not alone.

2

Well, Scarlett, you are not alone. Sadly, my relationship with my parents is much the same. They are both in their 80’s now and I dread getting “the call” that something has happened to one or the other of them.

My father is a bitter old man. He is awful to be around. In fact, the last time I heard his voice it was in the background of a call I was having with my mother when he said (loudly) “What does that bastard want?”. I hung up. Last I spoke with either of them. When I told a friend of mine about it, his response was that my father was a bitter old man 25 years ago. I guess he is right.

My mother is a woman of her era, I suppose. She wants her marriage to last & does pretty much anything she has to to keep it. She has put up with a lot and stands by him pretty much regardless. When I remember the (loud) arguments they had when I was a kid and the silent dinners we had, I cringe. I was happy to be too busy to be home as a teen and very happy to move out as a young adult.

My siblings are a mixed bag. My oldest brother is much older than I am and I only began to know him as I approached adulthood. He has been the father figure I really did not have & has been a great role model for me. Luckily for everyone, I believe he has been tasked with being the executor of my parent’s estate when the time comes. I, for one, want nothing to do with that job as it will be thankless and filled with pain for him. That pain, I am sure, will come from my sister.

My sister is a child of the 60’s. She has grown more self-centered and increasingly greedy as she came through adulthood, 2 marriages, and 2 kids. She has raised her children to be much like her. It’s gonna be ugly when my parents die as she will want everything and will likely make life hell for anyone who gets in her way.

I have another brother who is pretty much a “tag-a-long” to my sister. He was unmarried until his late 40’s and just generally toed the line my sister drew. I do not know if marriage has changed him at all as I pretty much left him behind as well when I noticed that I was the only one who could manage to call or drive the 10 miles between our homes.

I feel for you, Scarlett. I fear there are many families that have aging parents with kids our age holding our collective breath, waiting for that phone call that will come at any time. I figure that call will really be the trigger of the parting of family members that really never got along and really had no use for each other anyway.

I hope that I am a better father to my girls. I hope I never give them any reason to feel about me the way I feel about my parents. I also hope that they can lean on each other when the phone call comes their way about my passing.

Good luck to you.

3

Call the hospital and ask the nurse how she is. Ask them if they can have mom speak to you on the phone. It’s very different to deny calls for rest, and one call for the daughter.

4

Scarlett, you are absolutely not alone.

And you’re not cold, either. The only man who has ever physically attacked me is my father. I utterly don’t care when he goes into the hospital. He has reaped what he has sown, but he still holds us, his children, over a barrel because my mother has Alzheimer’s and can’t be alone when he’s not there. The only reason why I get involved at all is because of my mother. And even then it’s a hard thing for me because lord knows we all suffered for many years because the most important thing was not pissing him off. Took much much precedence over loving us. It’s a totally shitty situation full of emotional manipulation, cruelty, and frustration. Mostly I don’t deal with it directly, but when forced to it takes me a week or so of sleeping every moment I can to get over it. I can’t tell you how much easier it would be if they would both simultaneously pass in their sleep.

I read your post and cried. I thought I was the only person in the world - besides my siblings - who know what this is like. It’s its own special kind of hell to be trapped in your parents dysfunction and not be able to get away. Parents are supposed to love you not punish you for years and years and years.

Well, thank you for posting this, because I know it’s helped me today. And I’m sorry you’re going through this.

5

Well, I called the nurses’ station. She’s still pretty tired, will eat a little and then doze off, but she wakes up if you say her name. The nurse said she’s had a little PT (but she didn’t say what, and I was too busy being relieved to ask). She did have a spinal and not general anesthesia. The nurse seemed to think she was progressing OK. I told her to tell my mom I called and that I’ll be very glad to have a call from her when she’s up to it.

(Isn’t that a big fat HIPAA violation? How do they know I’m really her daughter like I said, or if she wants me to know anything about her care? Doesn’t HIPAA prohibit giving info to relatives anyway, or least require some kind of writing?)

ASAKMOTSD, your story has a lot of familiar elements. Some are from Mr. S’s family, but I’m familiar with them all the same. Thank you for your commiseration.

(As Soon As Killer Monkeys OverTake Straight Dope? San Diego? South Dakota?)

Harmonious Discord, thanks for the nudge. I actually thought of doing that last night, but I didn’t think they’d tell me anything (for the above reasons) and I wasn’t ready for that kind of disappointment. You made it sound like it would actually be OK, and I feel much better. Thank you.

niblet_head, I’m sorry that I made you cry. Who needs that when browsing the boards on a Sunday morning? Sometimes I feel kind of whiny for how I feel about how I grew up, especially when I read stories like yours (or worse). As I said there was no abuse, but not a lot of warmth. Someone online once suggested to me that my dad may have Asperger’s, and the more I read about it, the more I think that may be right. So he has no emotional connection to the world. My mother tries, but she just doesn’t have the tools to cope with life.

But thank you too for acknowledging and sharing how I feel.

(I never care when my dad goes into the hospital either. He’s had two joint replacements, as I mentioned, some cataract surgery, and a few hospitalizations related to his RA. What do I need to know for? It’s not like he wants me (or anybody, really) there for moral support. His last stay, my mom would go to visit him and he would just watch the TV. So she quit going. My mom tells me stuff about his health, and it goes in one ear and out the other.)

Thank God for my wonderful husband, who’s ridden the dysfunctional train too. He’s a rock and I’m gonna be needing him, I can tell.

I’m off to take a bath and then come back to the office and do some more work. Deadlines are still pressing, and besides, it’s good therapy. (Thank God I’m working on a nice boring-but-easy-to-edit marketing textbook instead of some soppy touchy-feely self-help garbage or something like that. Keep my mind off my troubles.)

6

Aw, hon, don’t sweat it. Crying means I’m not dead inside!! :smiley:

I rarely talk about all this with non-family members because it scandalizes others that I don’t give a shit about my father. If they hear all the background, they sort of understand, but it does sound harsh to the uninitiated that my dad has so many health problems and I don’t care. But the fact of the matter is, he makes it impossible to care. Every one of us in my family has those moments where a little glimmer of hope will creep in. Dad will not be mean, he’ll be grateful, he’ll show a modicum of caring about us as human beings and as his children. But then it’s like he’s very uncomfortable in that place and has to act like a dick to make everything normal again. In his twisted world, the only option we have as his children is to prostrate ourselves to his abuse and manipulation and be grateful for it and come back and back for more. He’s acting out his own deep-seated insecurity and fear and sense of worthlessness by making everyone cow to his will. There are six of us, and my brother and I are the only ones completely not moved by his “frailty”. The others come and go. Which I understand because there is still that need, even though we are all in our 30’s and 40’s, to feel hope that maybe this time if we do everything he demands, that he’ll love us. Like there’s some magical key and we just need to keep trying and trying and trying to devine it. There’s no key. He’s just a jerk who refuses to learn. Unfortunately, this does cause some rifts with my oldest sister who cares for him most often. It’s very disturbing to her worldview that someone could not care about their father, but there you go.

Anyway, do remember that it’s okay to take care of yourself and to protect and respect yourself and what you need. And that there’s a lot of people in the world who will not judge you for how you feel.

7

Then you’re one up on me. My dad just does his thing, apparently oblivious to anyone else. He doesn’t ever seem to be connected to or care about anyone else, or want anyone to care about him. (How was I ever born?)

Anyway, Mom just called. :smiley: :smiley: :smiley:

I talked to her for a little while until the PT came in to put her in a chair, and then she hung up and called me back afterward. She was pretty coherent, just sounded tired. Has been eating a little, mostly Jello, but ordered fruit for lunch. Still feels loopy and forgetful, but from what I read, that’s fairly normal. She’s been on her feet a few times, with a walker and assistance.

She said she didn’t think she was ready for visitors, that I should just come after she’s home. I’ll take her a little stuffed replica of our dog Phyllis (bought it at Petco, looks just like her, funny face coloring and all!) and a foil balloon (no watering required). I’m sure she’d like to see a friendly face besides my dad the goon.

sigh It’s a twisted relationship.

But at least I can relax now. For today. :rolleyes:

8

Good.
Now you can let the adreniline levels drop.
Best wishes.

9

I’m in a similiar situation with my parents. I haven’t spoken to my dad in 10 years, but I do see my mom every couple of years (she flies out here without him to visit her sister that lives near me) and we exchange cards. She has always been extremely disassociated from anything involving feelings, and we talk about the weather, books, tv shows and fake-smile and pretend that nothing ever went wrong.

When my mom’s dad died, he left a tidy sum to her on the condition that she would get it when she turned 60. He assumed that by then, my hard-living, heavy-smoking, southern-food-eating father would be long dead. We all assumed he’d be dead by now, but at 66 he’s still kicking. And hitting, and screaming, and generally being an abusive asshole. He’s had a couple strokes, a couple heart attacks and bypasses, and is a faint shadow of the large, powerful man he once was.

I hope that when he’s lying in bed in the dark, he feels a fear in his heart creep in. The fear that it will be me that takes care of him in his final days, when he is the one that is small, fragile, and dependent. Of course, I know that day will never come- I wouldn’t take care of him for a second, but I hope he’s afraid of it.

I have also had people shake their heads with the shame of the thought that I don’t speak to my own father- gasp! I shake my head in turn and tell them that if they knew him they’d understand.

10

I felt pretty much that way about my parents… until they died, Mom first, and Dad about 7 years later (and about 5 years ago). Now I have some regrets that there was a lot of unfinished business between us.

OTOH, I don’t know that I could ever reconcile everything no matter how much time was available.

But there is still some hope for you. My dad was a still a major asshole in his 60’s but started to mellow out considerably in his 70s.

Good luck.

11

Self-centered. Refuses to acknowledge any of my wants and needs - hers take absolute precedence; including things like time and silence to study. Has no interest in knowing me as a person, just as “her daughter”, which she defines as “the person who must take care of me”. Takes personal offense when I do/like something that she hadn’t planned for. Tells me what and who do I like.

Those are complaints I have about my mother and also complaints she has about hers. Add a sexually obsessed maternal grandfather, a maternal grandmother who will forgive anything her husband does (when he tried to feel us granddaughters up, she’d start yelling at him but by the time she finished it had somehow become our fault); add that my parents spent 30+ years trying to “normalize” their children instead of getting to know and accept…

Yeah, except for a lack of mistresses I have the kind of family that makes latinamerican soap operas terribly mild. I didn’t cry at Dad’s funeral and don’t expect to cry at either Mom’s, Gran’s or Grampa’s.

12

Well, I am in the process of taking care of my grandmother, who is 90 years old, and is failing mentally. She never was a friendly/loving person, and was always hateful and mean. Now, she’s even worse. My family and I will be living with her soon. VERY soon.
It’s not going to be easy.
For any of us.

All I can say, is that these people are human. They have and will make mistakes, just as we do.
Now that I have proof of WHY my grandma is so mean and hateful (Dementia, according to her Dr.), it seems I can deal with it all MUCH better! I was having a very difficult time coming to terms with her attitude, but I understand WHY she’s this way, and has been this way for a LONG time, but only recently diagnosed.
I suppose once you find out why they are the way they are, and/or why they always were the way they are, it helps you…somehow. I guess it makes it a bit easier to deal with.

The only advice I can give you, is, if you can, find out as much as you can about their condition, find out if they are depressed/ill and take measures to try to remedy the problem.

I know it’s not much, but it’s the only bit of advice I have. I’m sure others will give you better information than mine.
I wish you good luck!

13

Still at home (don’t want to put my parents through any more financial hardship than they have to be to put me through school and I’m a bit attached to my mom), but I want nothing more to stick a sock in my Dad’s mouth so he’d shut up. He brings so much negativity to the table and all he does is bitches and worries and drinks. Mom spent all day yesterday worrying over losing her keys, and Dad amplified the worry and was almost frantic and kept on going over where they might have been. Mom eventually found them…in the basket where Dad puts his keys. A lightbulb goes on over my head - Dad’s key hook broke the other day and we went to throw it away. But it was either Mom’s keys he had instead of his own, or he took the hook off Mom’s keys to put it on his and just put her keys in the basket. Anyway, it all could have been fixed a lot faster if he just spend more than 5 minutes a day out of an alcoholic haze.

And don’t even ask me about the fits he throws when I bring home a paycheck bigger than his. I only work in the summer, and it’s a government subsidized student job. He made way more than this when he worked for the government anyway! He was the one who chose early retirement! I just want to smack him upside the head and tell him to stop being a stupid fool.

14

When I talked to my mom when she was still in the hospiital, I offered to come and stay with her for a few days to help out with the stuff that I knew HE couldn’t or wouldn’t do: helping with her exercises, personal care, anything that involved physical strength or touching her. :mad:

She called me back later and took me up on it.

So on Tuesday I packed up most of my office and all my current work and transferred it to an empty upstairs bedroom in my parents’ house. I was there through Saturday, when my sister stopped by for a weekend visit with her kids. The idea was that I was there only to do stuff that he can’t, because I had a ton of work and was already stretching my schedule, and besides, when you can help, you help, right? Plus I was there to help HER, not HIM.

I already knew that my father is a right foul git, but he is really showing his ass now. Some examples:

  • One afternoon when she was in her recliner and I was upstairs working, she asked him to go to the store for some stool softener, because she still hadn’t pooped, and needed to. He wouldn’t go, even though he needed some stuff for himself. Maybe he would go tomorrow. :mad: Next time I came downstairs to check on her, she told me about it, and I went to the store for $5 worth of stool softener.

  • He bitches in general whenever she asks him to get her something to eat, or an ice pack, or a drink. It’s too much hassle, and besides he’s retired and all and it interferes with his busy schedule of napping and talking on his radios. :mad:

  • He’s never been in the habit of cleaning up after himself. My mother and I both found puddles on the bathroom and kitchen fllors, and he left the bathroom a mess (including towel on the floor) after his (rare) morning ablutions. Nice when there’s a person using a walker in the house.

  • She and I both wanted the central air on, her because she was uncomfortable, and I because it was a veritable oven upstairs, where I was trying to work, and the windows up there don’t open. But whenever we turned it on, he would bitch about why couldn’t we wait until after 7, when the rates were cheaper.

  • He’s Mr. Electronics Guy, but his equipment is usually jerry-rigged crap. He produced some cheap walkie-talkies so my mom could call me when I was upstairs, but one of them kept crapping out and he couldn’t fix it, so eventually we gave up and I just started coming down every half-hour or so. So no calling me in the middle of the night if she needed me. Also, I won’t get into the details of the phone setup in their house, but it’s also crap, and because he’s “in charge” of that stuff, she couldn’t just go out and buy a new phone, even when she was still able-bodied. (Plus she doesn’t like to spend the money, even though she could afford it.) So I suggested to her that I could afford it and would be happy to go out and find her a set of cordless handsets so that she would always have a phone with speed dial numbers programmed in, paging to the other handsets, etc. One for her chair, one for her nightstand, one for his nightstand (separate bedrooms, natch), etc., so that she didn’t have to have him bring her the phone if she forgot to take it with her in her walker basket.

Jesus Christ, when he found out, it was World War Three. What’s wrong with the old phones? (They’re twenty-year-old CRAP! And half their “features” are busted, and she complains about them all the time. Why not have one less aggravation?) We’re gonna need to run extension cords. (Yah, so what?) I don’t even want to get into the whole thing, but it was ugly. Over a telephone that works so she can get help if she needs it. :mad: She finally bitched at him enough that he said “Fine.” (Good, because he’s the one who’s gonna have to set them up. If there hadn’t been all the arguing, I could have done it while I was there and saved him (and her) the hassle.

  • On the two occasions when the visiting nurse and the physical therapist were there taking her history and getting her scheduled for visits, he sat there and kept interrupting with his usual vulgar disparaging comments:

“Aw, all this paperwork is bullshit.”
(when she was describing her pain on a 1-10 scale as asked) “Those numbers are a buncha goddamned bullshit.”
(given a choice of answers and none fit, she was trying to give a description) “Jesus, it doesn’t matter, just answer the goddamned question!”
(when discussing her med doses) “The dose don’t matter, just take some, it ain’t gonna croak ya!” (Mind, she was on oxycodone, and now Vicodin, not Flintstone vitamins.)

I just kept wanting to scream, “Shut the fuck up!! This isn’t about YOU!!” Christ, let the nurse do her job!! The nurse kept saying “You’re funny!” which I have to wonder if it was a euphemism, like the Southern “Well, bless your heart!”

I also wanted to know if the medical people were aware that he wasn’t going to be the helpful husband at home like they might think. My mother would never tell them, although she dropped a few hints – but she would never say so outright. Gotta keep up the facade.

  • And of course, he’s just his usual unpleasant self. Here’s a tip: when someone is recovering from major surgery and is in a lot of pain, they don’t need to listen to you gripe all day about your petty shit.

So anyway, I spent most of the week seeing how I could set things up so she could do as much for herself as possible. I bought her some ice wraps that she can wrap herself within her range of mobility, and I’m going to order her some more of the dressings that she can apply herself (instead of wrapping gauze). Bought the phones so she has decent com at hand wherever she is. I nudged her to call her sister (who lives close by) and ask her to come by periodically to wash her hair, give backrubs, and do the other personal things. PT is coming 3x/week for at least the next two weeks, and I’ll try to come a few times weekly on the other days to help with the exercises she can’t quite do on her own yet.

There’s lots more I could write about, but the whole thing just exhausts me even to think about. I will say that she hinted that she was thinking about leaving him (again). Maybe this will finally be the last straw – she’s never been disabled enough to have to depend on him, and it might just be an eye-opener. (Of course, his shitty behavior has been obvious to the rest of us for years, but she keeps thinking “he’ll change for me.” :rolleyes:

You know it’s bad when Mr. S (who witnessed the phone argument, and also knows about the other stuff) said that even HIS dad (the alcoholic asshole) wasn’t that bad. He may have been a surly vulgar bastard, but at least he was willing to help his wife when she was sick. My father is redefining the genre. :mad:

15

It sucks that we can’t pick our relatives, don’t it?

I’m really sorry you’re having to deal with this. It does suck. But a lot of us have been there, done that. If venting helps, come in here and do so all you please!

16

Jesus Christ, Scarlett67, that could be my dad. I totally know where you’re coming from. It’s all about petty control, passive agressiveness, and then outright agressive agressiveness!

The little things he could do to make his life easier and his wife’s life easier? (Like your phone example) Nope, won’t do. Rages at suggestions. Absolutely blows a fuse if you take it upon yourself and change something to make it easier on them. (He went off on my sister a few weeks ago after she’d called to get their lawn mower fixed about how it was “all about her” and her “need to control everything”. Project much, Anal Opening???)

And people wonder why I’ve developed such a bitter laugh when I talk about the tit.

Here, have a beer and share your horror story. I promise to nod in acknowledgement and laugh with you at the wonder that is his stupifying disfunction.

17

My wonderful MIL has been in hospital 6 times over the last 4 months. She’s an amazing woman in her mid-80s. She was once head of medicine for the entire island of Malta. She was a bit of a blue–stocking who got married late, had a black boyfriend in her 20s (unheard of in those days), who used to take herself off on cycling and skinny dipping holidays when she was young. She nursed my grouchy but loveable FIL as he was dying from advanced Motor Neurones Disease, even though she was in her late 70s at the time. She was funny, brilliant, patient and has the biggest and kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s hugely loved by so many people that we already know the local church will not be big enough to fit all the mourners in when she goes.

This sounds awful but I wish she’d die. Her mind’s going fast now and she knows it, and hates it. Her short-term memory was shot to bits after a series of heart attacks a couple of years ago, but now her long-term memory has gone, too. She doesn’t recognise her family and friends half the time, and can’t remember where home is anymore. She broke her leg a couple of weeks back after a fall. She has Addison’s Disease (sp??) which means she hates to eat, so has lost huge amounts of weight. She’s lonely and longing for her husband, and is devoutly Christian so believes she’ll join him as soon as she’s gone. She’s miserable and the hospital (and my SIL) just keep her going and going and going…

We’re basically waiting for her to die now. We want to leave the country to emigrate abroad but that’s on hold until she’s gone as my husband wouldn’t forgive himself for leaving her, even though she can’t remember that he visits twice a day. So our life is on hold. God, I love her to bits but I’m beginning to resent the worry and the waiting, the constant hospital visits where she obviously hasn’t got a clue who I am and where the conversation is forced and difficult as she can’t understand what we’re talking about half the time. We’ve been waiting for a phonecall telling us she’s either on her way out or gone, and been waiting like this for the last couple of years due to her advanced heart disease. I hate hate HATE that I resent her for keeping us waiting like this as she’s simply the sweetest woman in the world and the only true Christian it’s been my privilege to know. But she’s not herself anymore and she’s miserable. We’re stuck in limbo. Perhaps I’m a terrible person for admitting this but I hope she goes soon as this is tough on hubby, too.

I think perhaps the worst bit of watching elderly parents slowing down and getting closer to their last day is that it only confirms that we’re the grown ups now. Once they’re gone, we’re the next in line. We’re now the older generation, even if it feels like only a few weeks since we were in our 20s. That’s not the most fun feeling in the world. It also only presses on me that we’ve got a finite amount of time to make the changes to our life that we wish to, and that we’re waiting to get started on that. It’s a weird feeling of transition, the beginning of a period of change, and something my husband feels very strongly at the moment.

Hope you manage to find some support, dump as much as you can on other people, and remember your dad’s a grown up too and that you are allowed to be angry with him.

18

scarlett I hope things do get better for you on this.
I just have one question: If you’re the power of attorney for your mother’s health care, why weren’t you required by the hospital to be there post-surgery?

19

Good question. I guess I need to pull that document out and look at it (it’s in my safe-deposit box, so I can’t check it right now). Maybe she told them to call me only if something went really wrong? Or they assumed that my dad would be the POA and she didn’t think to mention it?

To be honest, my understanding of POA so far has just been that she wants me to make any plug-pulling-type decisions, and not my dad. Clearly I have some homework to do. And probably talk to Mom about it as well.

Everyone else, I truly appreciate your responses, and I’d like to reply later. Right now I need to try to get caught up on this work I’ve been neglecting because I was busy arguing about phones. :slight_smile:

20

I sympathise on your father. Couple of things:

  1. “you’re funny” was most likely very similiar to “bless your heart”. See, the nurse can’t really solve the family dysfunction in the few visits alloted–plus, it’s up to the family to do so–so, we end up saying things that acknowledge the a-hole’s contribution to the dialogue, but don’t feed him.

  2. Probably was a HIPPA violation. My hospital uses passwords (which are a joke because the old folks can’t remember the password most of the time and/or they forget to tell their inner circle and so we field calls from extremely pissed off family members calling from out of state etc). Dont’ sweat the violation. I highly doubt that info on your mom was given out to any Tom, Dick or Harry.

  3. You can’t change 'em. My parents put us all thru hell–truly hell. Separated when I was 9, divorced when I was 14, with much nastiness in between. Lo and behold if they don’t remarry one another when I am 21. I told my mother to her face that this time she was on her own re him and his controlling asshattery. She used to confide her marital woes to my sisters, but since 2 of them are now dead-she is looking to me more and more for a shoulder. No effing way. Neither one of them learned squat through their divorce from hell. I, too, dread the Call.

  4. However, no matter how bad the Call will be, it will be a free trip to Disneyworld compared to if my FIL dies prior to my MIL. She, the 30+ year smoker/drinker who survived throat CA, is doing fine. He, the non-smoker, has got lung CA from second hand smoke–she is just so generous, no? She is a psychotic, neurotic, controlling hysteric who will literally throw a temper tantrum if not appeased at all times. I have seen her throw a knife at my FIL. She has called me out any number of time–all told, she is one pillar of society. Husband ignores it all–I cannot and I limit the times she spends with my kids.

Sorry for the hijack. Just know that the myth of the Norman Rockwell family goes deep and wide in our country and culture. It’s aggravating-since I don’t believe for a minute that all those nice homes are filled with lovely people, but somehow the individuals get dismissed and the Myth lives on–despite all the evidence to the contrary…