Have you ever been so frustrated that you want to scream? Not a muffle it into a pillow one–I mean an out loud, full volume, no holds barred, elongated blood curdling scream that would likely elicit a concerned neighbor’s 911 call. I only remember doing this once in my life, and it was earlier this year (thankfully I wasn’t at my home because I let it out). Instead of unleashing another (unfortunately I am at home), I’m writing. Call me dramatic if you want, but that’s my current state. Let me paint this picture for you…
Hmmm, where shall I start? I missed the call last week (Tuesday) that Mama was headed to the ER because my phone died–as is blue screen of death followed by black where phone would not turn on. Made appt with Apple’s Genius Bar for next day (Wednesday afternoon). Wednesday morning, I found out about the ER visit when I opened email on my laptop, saw a dozen+ “My Chart” updates, and called my aunt to see what was going on. Mama was released with antibiotics for an UTI. I go to my Apple appointment, and after a couple hours of trying, end up having to buy a new phone (thank goodness I’d done a backup on my PC less than a month ago when I had to replace cracked screen on the now dead phone). Get home several hours later (we missed lunch dealing with all the aforementioned stuff) after having a nice dinner and “resetting,” try to restore new phone via backup, and no dice. Work through tech support via chat and phone, get a case number so Apple can reset my account, which will take approximately three days. Lovely, I am now the proud owner of an expensive dumb smart phone.
On Thursday, Mama goes back to the ER, this time she’s admitted…Friday afternoon. Mind you, I live 4+ hours away. After multiple text conversations with my aunties (aka her sisters), we decide IF she’ll call when the nurses and/or doctors are there, I could manage her care from here. You see, although Mama will tell you she “has all her nuggies,” she’s cognitively impaired…as in, documented by a medical professional, beyond the “normal” age-related memory decline. I have MPOA and advocate on her behalf because she does not have the capacity to do so. And she fights me–on this and so many things. So much so, I’ve had to reframe our relationship, which started with calling her “Mama.”
If you’re keeping up with this page, you may remember me saying my “Mom” died in January–this is to say, my mom-in-love (aka my hubby’s mom). You may think me cruel when I say my birth mother ceased to exist years ago. That’s the only way I can wrap my head around how she’s treated me for decades and still care for her, hence “Mama” was born and became my 30+ hour a week job. Back to the timeline…
The weekend is spent pouring over labs, scans, and anything else I can access trying to piece together for a plan that addresses Mama’s excruciating pain that has landed her in the ER twice in a two day period. No word back from Apple about my account, so I don’t have access to any of my contacts, calendar, and dagnabbit, I’ve now lost my Duolingo streak. The project that I need to work on requires info that Apple has hostage, and Mama is refusing to call me when any nurse and/or doctor visits. I couldn’t even phone a friend to vent because I’ve become that phone dependent (remember when we actually memorized numbers?!). Cut to today.
I get a call at 7am from Mama telling me “she’s still here,” and woke up crying because she’s in so much pain. I ask if she’d like me to come down and sit with her, “no thanks.” I remind her (as have both aunties) that I cannot help her if she won’t let me. Mama has been masking for a very long time, and in brief interactions, she seems “fine.” I’m faced, yet again, with the “should I stay or should I go now” (without the melodic tune) saga. FINALLY, a doctor stops by and Mama calls. I’m able to hear from the professional what’s being done and make my case for additional imaging (which order has been played and prayerfully will occur before discharge). Oh, did I also mention this is in between messaging/talking with Apple again after receiving recovery email, which still doesn’t unlock my expensive dumb smart phone and requires “further escalation” to the tune of another 24/28 hours?
I full well realize my phone issue is a first world problem. But Mama? That’s another animal. I’ve had people ask why I’m still involved and trying to help. “Boundaries,” they say. At the end of the day, “Mama” is still my mom–regardless of her diminished mental capacity and how desperately I try to separate the two. At my core, I know regardless of how frustratingly difficult this (she) is, I cannot simply walk away. I have to do what feels right within my own skin. Because when she does leave this Earth, I will have to live with the choices I’ve made. I’m not sure if that’s right or wrong. I just know that’s where I’m at…
There’s a Keith James song, “Not My Day,” that’s playing on repeat in my head. You should listen to it. I was stuck in the first 2/3 of the song which is focuses around all the things that make it “not my day.” Thinking it’ll make me feel better, I play it. Someone to commiserate with. First verse: yep, his day is pretty bad too. Bridge: peach!. Chorus: “Not My Day” SAMSIES. Second verse: more of his bad day, feel that too. Then the bridge again, only this time it hits a little different.
“If my luck doesn’t change
Keith James, “Not my day,” KHS 2013
I’ll be out of my brain by tonight
When your head’s out of place
You’re behind in the race of life”
Read those last two lines again. Now here’s the third verse…
“Oh oh oh
Keith James, “Not my day,” KHS 2013
What you treasure is who you are
Go and get it
Oh oh oh
If it starts to fall apart
Give it all you got ’cause
Folks will hurt, and down your worth
Don’t let them take you out”
Then the final chorus changes from “not my day” to “maybe it’s just not their day.” Throwing in “won’t let them hold me down” before returning to the familiar song title, “No My Day” chorus at the end. Huh…somehow I missed that last 1/3 in the version playing in my head. Don’t let them. I control the narrative. I can choose whether I’ll continue to spiral. I will treasure and prioritize my own peace.
My aunties and I joked that even Jesus has stepped away shaking His head at this whole Mama situation. Obviously not, we all know better than that. It did bring levity to the situation, which was the whole point. So, now that I’ve written, revised, stewed about whether or not to share this over the last few hours, I’m posting for you.
You, my friend, who has an aging parent you are now trying to shepherd.
You, my friend, who has a loved one with an impairment.
You, my friend, who is grieving the loss of relationship.
You, my friend, who is just having a hard day.
You, my friend.
Don’t let them take you out. *hugs*
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