This is how it goes. I wake up before dawn, needing the loo. The trip to the bathroom wakes me up somewhat so I decide to go downstairs and check on elderly dog, now confined to the kitchen overnight, the better to deal with any 'accidents'. Kitchen floor decorated with dog pee and poo so by the time I've cleaned it all up, I'm wide awake and thirsty. Make a cup of tea and switch on computer. Play Lexulous on Facebook (a kind of online scrabble) until there are no more moves to make, play Bubble Spinner until the bubbles get the better of me. Check this blog for new posts, mooch around eBay, check e-mails, back to Facebook to see whether any of my online Lexulous partners have played their moves, notice that dawn is breaking, go back to bed (or start getting ready for work, depending on what day it is). Can't understand why I'm lacking in energy. Pfft.
Going to a work colleague's wedding blessing and reception this afternoon. I can tell that Mr Lily is nervous about not knowing anyone there and is already hankering after going to the pub before the ceremony, presumably for dutch courage. I'm hoping I can keep him under control until the reception has got under way, by which time everyone else will be getting tiddly anyway. Everyone but me that is, always the chauffeur, never the party girl. That's what you get when you're allergic to alcohol - its just not worth the full on hayfever-like attack that usually accompanies drinking.
Will be starting to get work done on mum's bungalow soon. Have obtained a quote for boarding out the loft and should have sorted out an electrician by the end of next week to do the rewiring and a few other electrical jobs. My brain tells me I'm doing the right thing but my guts are churning - making these decisions about mum's property without her knowledge (she's forgotten the bungalow existed, it would only confuse her to try to explain what's happening) feels shifty somehow, as though I'm doing something wrong. I suppose part of the discomfort is because lovely daughter will be the beneficiary of all this refurbishment, being paid for out of mum's account, when she moves into the bungalow. Although, in the end she may have to move out so I can rent/sell the bungalow if the Court of Protection doesn't approve of her living there rent free (she's on a low wage), in which case all the improvements will have added to the value of the bungalow which is a good thing, isn't it? Aaargh, too much responsibility. I recognise this feeling. I'm stressed. I want my Prozac back. I want to be comfortably numb again.
Kamala
1 month ago
4 comments:
I recognise that feeling of shiftiness at the thought of meddling with your Mum's place. You're right to focus on how she's forgotten about it - it doesn't exist any more as far as she's concerned, and it would only distress her to talk about it. In our situation, it's like we have to re-work our family tree in our minds and take on our parent as a new child and then make some huge decisions on their part. As far as the legality/ethical implications of your plan for your Daughter, again I think you're okay as long as you aren't diminishing your Mum's asset to your Daughter's benefit. There's an argument that you should hold on to the asset until the market is better, and your Daughter might as well live there in the mean time, keeping it warm and free from damp. In my situation we really needed to sell up because I'm faced with Care Home fees, but if you don't need to sell or rent the place out then your Daughter can be "looking after" it. I'm sure your Mum would want to help out her Granddaughter, too.
I hesitate to say this about the exhaustion and waking up thirsty and needing the loo, but have you been checked recently for diabetes?
Cheers for the support Greg. Funny you should ask about diabetes - have just been checked out because apparently itchiness can also be a symptom but the blood tests came back fine.
I'm a bit confused about the Prozac/comfortably-numb thing. I'm on Paxil (a close relative of Prozac) and have never felt numb on it. The older antidepressants did that to me, in the days before Prozac, and I remember hating that feeling so badly that I'd delay dangerously long before asking for them. (They also made me fat.)
As to your mother's inability to approve of the bungalow renovations, jeepers, don't beat yourself up! If your mom suddenly magically became well again, she'd be getting her home back, right? And she'd be pleased with the work, too?
Well maybe 'comfortably numb' was a bit of an exaggeration Emily, blame Pink Floyd! I suppose what I meant was that on Prozac I didn't get the little gnawing bursts of anxiety that have surfaced again in the real world. Nothing I can't cope with but I was more 'comfortable' on Prozac. As for mum, the old mum had very deep pockets, I doubt she would have shelled out for the necessary refurbishments, so perhaps that's part of why I'm finding the responsibility so daunting. Aaargh!
Post a Comment