The day I lost it

circa late March, 2001
We are bringing mom home from the hospital today.  She has been there for 2+ months, related to the treatments needed for the breast cancer and the stroke.  She has had toilet mastectomy, plastic surgery skin grafts, radiation therapy, physical therapy. She is in a wheelchair, but also has a 4 point cane, and she can walk a bit, but still needs someone to stand by.  She has regained a stuttering speech that we are so thankful for - and we continue to work on.
You have stayed at her side continuously throughout the process as I have flown in and out of another world, to be with you.


During this entire time I had no clue  of how impaired you already were or of what would follow.

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We arrive home and I set about setting up the home.  I ask you to get the medications we had filled at the pharmacy.  You disappear into the back of the house for longer than necessary.

When you return with the medication, it is apparent that something isn't right.

The tablets don't look like normal pills I am accustomed to seeing.  Instead, they look like clear plastic capsules with grassy like powders inside.

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You had decided, on your own, that you weren't going to give her the medication that had been prescribed by the doctors.  Instead, the grassy substances were various supplements that you had extracted from the huge stock of bottles located  around the house.

Did you forget that I have spent my life studying medicine and science?  That I am an actual expert in the room?

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I put my hands on each of your shoulders, standing over you as you sat in the chair, looking at me without concern, and I SHOOK the shoulders with the emphasis of my words:
"You are a F_ _ _ _  UP!!!"  I repeatedly exclaimed, in horror.

I liked to tell people afterwards, it was the day I kicked your ass, that I shouldn't have waited so long to have kicked your ass.  But, I didn't really kick your ass.  It was a tragic realization.

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My vulnerable mother is not safe with my father as caregiver.

No.  2015 Translation: My vulnerable mother is not safe with my vulnerable father as caregiver.

What would it have taken for me to have actually gotten control of that situation in 2001?  I don't think it would have been possible to have done any more than I did, short of moving in with them.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2014/11/what-you-should-do-if-this-happens-to.html

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You didn't seem very concerned by my reaction, or the tears, making me cry, making mom cry.

You are, however, alarmed that I said the F word.

You also aren't appropriately  alarmed when social services show up over the next months, following my report of Mom as a vulnerable adult.

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Was this already part of the dementia, but I attributed it only to poor choices? ?

Yes, I would say that more than anything, the lack of empathy or the loss of social boundary, permitting you to not be concerned by the need for oversight by a Social Service agency, in order to maintain basic proper medication management of the person YOU are caring for, is a manifestation of the dementia in progress.   A normal person, even if they had made a judgment error, would be called into check, would self correct, and also be embarrassed by this requirement; but you weren't.

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the timeline on the story noted above isn't quite 100% factual. The part about the  meds on day 1 arrival at home is true.  But the part about me losing it actually was a week or 2 later, but related to a similar issue, as I recall.

choosing insanity in a dangerous world

This is a story about someone other than my dad, someone else I know.

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Someone I know is in big trouble, in a very dangerous situation.
We can see it coming.
We can all see it coming, and we talk about it.
We discuss it amongst ourselves, as well as with the VICTIM, the person who is in big trouble. We even talk about how we have had this happen before, in our family, and how we didn't understand the refusal for help the last time.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/its-breast-cancer.html

In a sane world, the choice would be made to USE the resources to PREVENT the problem we can all see coming.
But, not all of us are operating in  the same/ sane world.

The warning signs have been there for a week.
You might have this one last chance to prevent catastrophe.
You agreed to the tests that were done today and we now know exactly  what the problem is.
You even request to call me and notify me, to speak with me from the hospital (as the family health care provider)
Help has been offered.  It is the kind of help that comes with a need for urgency.  An hour from now might be too late.

I say to you "Choose Life".  "Choose Life".  "Don't leave open the possibility of disability"
It is unbelievable, to the sane,  that you would turn the help down.

You say, "I want to go home now".  "I will think about it".  "Maybe tomorrow".  "I will let YOU know tomorrow"

I say ------this isn't about me. Its about you.

The risk of that choice is very high and we try to convey it to you.  But you insist, and we have no choice but to withdraw and wait to see what happens next.

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how does one escape a bad life situation?  Is the failure to accept help actually a means to another form of escape?

subtext: you are a victim of domestic violence.  These are the unseen consequences of an unstable and unsafe home life.

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Several days later.

Catastrophe is averted with medication only.  Grace has prevailed.  For now all is well.

You came to the hospital, stayed 2 days for tests, and have now again left against medical advice.

I apologetically appeal to my colleagues to be kind to you and to continue to try to deal with delivering you appropriate health care, to not be put off by the barriers you create.

Will the connection to me be what it takes, or would it have happened anyway?

(it should happen regardless of the connections, but the world in which we live doesn't always operate that way)

It is a reminder to me as well - for tolerance and continued efforts with those who make poor choices.