still here, just.

My dog got me up for the second time in ten minutes at 04:30. As I would only lie in bed with mum filling my head, I may as well be here, with a cup of tea. Nothing has changed. Actually its getting worse.

Monday. Mum rings me at work. Someone has phoned her from the surgery saying the doctor wants to see her. She told them she couldn't get there. They told her they would collect her at 07:45 Tuesday morning. I tell her it sounds unlikely but I will check with the surgery and tell her what happened when I see her after work. The surgery asks round everyone but no-one has called my mum. I phone the FAST team. No-one there has phoned. Mum phones me at work. She thought I was going to phone her back. I try to tell her the results of my enquiries. She can not hear me clearly. Everyone at work within 100 yards can hear me. Monday night. I tell her over and over again the surgery didn't ring. She must have misunderstood what was said. Was she sure it wasn't one of her carers? No. Definitely the surgery. I promise to be at hers for 07:45 on Tuesday to see who turns up. Same old, same old. I go home at 20:30.

Tuesday. I arrive at mum's at 07:30. She is already in her winter coat, complaining about having to go to the doctor's. Time passes. Nothing happens. I phone the surgery a number of times but get the 'closed' message. I tell her I will take her to the doctor's if it turns out that she has an appointment. 08:15 - mum's carers arrive. Mystery solved. One of them had phoned her yesterday to say she would be coming earlier to do her breakfast. Took a while to get the message through to mum. Gave the carer my contact details and instructions to phone me in future with any messages. Went to work, collecting my prescriptions from my doctor's on the way. I wonder whether I should ask for a stronger dose of Prozac? I'm obviously not looking my best - at the morning meeting my lovely boss says she might have to send me home if she thinks I'm taking too much on. I'm glad to be at work with something to distract me. I manage to get through the day in first gear, completing a number of tasks. After work, mum's. This time she remains in misery mode all evening. All the usual lamentations and "there's no love". Of course she's right, there isn't. How can you love someone who all their life has made you feel like a huge disappointment? I'm not totally heartless. I recognise that she is unhappy and afraid on her own and I feel sorry for her, as I would any 89 year old widow in poor health. I just can't be what she wants - a surrogate husband, someone there 24/7 to keep her company and take responsibility for everything. I do my best, I go round day after day, I make sure she takes her tablets and doesn't run out, I encourage her to eat, I rub Vick on her chest to help her breathe, I help her bathe and wash her hair, I do her laundry and make sure she has food in the house, I take her to all her doctor's and hospital appointments, I listen to all her stories as though they were new to me, I sit there quietly accepting of all the veiled insults and complaints she directs at me. 57 years of conditioning as a doormat have worked well. I leave at 20:30 and join my husband and friends in the local pub. We don't stay long.

And now its Wednesday. I don't usually go to mum's on Wednesdays - I'm either doing a late shift at work or off to the pictures with my best friend. I shall have to go tonight or face the wrath of she who must be attended. I told her last night that my colleague will do my late shift tonight so that I can go to mum's. She clearly doesn't believe me, she doesn't understand why anyone should have to work late in an "office job". Which just goes to show how she demeans what I do for a living. She often says "you shouldn't be working now" and pulls a face when I say I'll retire at 65. She thinks I should abandon my career/salary/pension to look after her full-time. I intend phoning the social worker today. I need to tell her how impotent I feel in the face of mum's emotional blackmail. Will she be sympathetic or disapproving? I'm beyond caring.

deja vue

The usual Pavlovian reaction to my appearance at 11:30 but thankfully the gripes did not last too long. Mum had half a small tin of soup and half a slice of bread for lunch. Also the tablets she should have taken on the morning. The carer arrived. Mum had told her she had already had breakfast when she came earlier. She hadn't. Mum couldn't be bothered to get dressed today, she spent her time resting on the settee, never quite falling asleep. She seemed to be very weak but in a much better mood than recently. With hindsight I think it was just that she didn't have the energy to be antsy. After tea she started on the poor me monologue again. She was considering stopping taking all her tablets (to prevent future strokes) - I advised against it. She asked me what I would do in her place, I said take good care of myself, keep taking the tablets and eating well. What I would have liked to have said was find a nice care home where I'd have plenty of company, no responsibilities and no housework. I explained I had to go home around 17:30 - to get organised for work tomorrow. (Actually, I couldn't take the misery any longer.) I would see her tomorrow night, after work. What time? The usual, about 18:15. What? I'd be at work all day?! Yes, its what I do, work full time. So she'd be alone all day. The carers will come. Sulky face. Didn't come to the window to wave me off. Sigh.

second verse, same as the first

Well not quite as bad, a slightly watered down version of yesterday. But still over seven hours of purgatory. I am exhausted. How the hell am I going to keep this up? I'm rather looking forward to total breakdown and an end to having to fulfil expectations. Going to bed now.

Friday roller coaster

o8:30 Hello, (carer) your mum only has half a slice of bread left. (Me) There's a full loaf in the freezer. Could you tell her I'll do some shopping and be there around lunchtime?
11:30 Mum rings home. Husband tells her I left a while ago and will be with her soon. He asks how she is, she puts the phone down on him.
11:55 Oh, so you've turned up at last.
Mum is still in her night clothes. She gives me hell for an hour or so. Why does everything happen to her, she wishes the stroke had finished her off, she has no family left (?), nobody cares etc., etc. Eventually I get her dressed and make her some lunch. A small slice of smoked bacon, a pineapple ring and some tomato. She eats most of it. Slowly she perks up. I get her to eat a clementine, drink tea and have a piece of lemon cake, food little and often to encourage her appetite. The afternoon passes minute by minute.
16:00 We are both dozing on the settee when the carer comes to do tea. She makes mum some vegetable soup and toast. She eats half of each. So far we've had a different carer every mealtime. The 'jolly one' has not been back yet. They see I'm there and don't linger. I am wracked by a fierce coughing bout. Mum says I should see a doctor about it. She may be concerned but I suspect she only wants to ensure I'm still fit enough to look after her. She asks me if my husband and daughter look after me. I laugh and say they don't get the chance as I'm always at her's. She doesn't get the irony.
I give mum her 30ml build-up drink. It makes her feel sickly. She wades into the slough of despond again. All she wants is someone to care, to put their arms around her and say its ok. (I don't remember my mother ever putting her arms around me. My dad was the affectionate one.) She says she shouldn't be living alone. What she means is, she wants me to say come and live with me. Totally impractical. I can't see mum climbing the stairs to the loo and she doesn't like my husband at all. He's not what she would have chosen for me (a bank manager perhaps, its all about appearances with mum.) I tell her he's a good man. Its not what she wants to hear. She says she supposes the washing will still be on the airer next week. I put it away.
Mum starts on her terrible father stories, how he used to read and burn her letters and interfere in his children's lives. I remember how mum used to creep into my bedroom when she thought I was asleep and rifle through my handbag. How she persuaded dad to try to break up relationships they didn't approve of - they even went to the police station when I first started seeing my husband, trying to dig up some dirt on him. I say nothing. It would only make mum feel I was picking on her. I am wondering whether this is all a big test to make me a better person. I don't think its working - I may be all sweetness and light on the outside but in my imagination I am swinging a very large baseball bat at my mother's head.
The hours go by, the sickliness fades. She starts to cheer up. I see my chance to leave.
19:45 I say goodnight and promise to return at lunchtime on Saturday. As I start to drive away I see her at the window, indicating she needs me back again. She asks me if I have her front door key so she can let the carer in, instead of using the kitchen door. She finds her key in her purse. I leave again. She is back at the window. I keep driving.
I join my husband and friends in the pub. We are there for less than two hours. All the time I dread going home to find the answerphone blinking and another summons.
Home. Huge sigh of relief. No messages. Watch Rab C Nesbitt. Cruder than I remember but still funny. Bed.

counting my blessings

1. I have lost 5 pounds!
2. I go back to work on Monday so will only have to spend a few hours at Bleak House every day.
3. I had a good night's sleep last night.

nine and a half weeks hours

"Moan, moan, poor me, poor me"
(showered mum and washed her hair)

"moan, moan etc."
Found a note in the door from the carer - she'd called at 7.30am, mum's bedroom light was on but she wouldn't answer the door. Mum says they do it deliberately (knock and go) to save themselves a job?! She is going to tell them she doesn't want them to come again. She dozes for 2 hours on the settee.

"moan, moan....shouldn't be living alone.....your dad will be weeping over me...." Poor bugger, I bet he's been dancing a jig for the last 9 years. I keep asking him to call her up but he's ignoring me.

Carers come - ooh, transformation - canny old lady doing her best, smiling in the face of adversity, oh yes, see you again ....

Permutations of the above. Eats minute amounts. Coughs, hawks and inspects the tissue EVERY TIME. I too am coughing, so much so that I am losing my voice and can only croak. Does she notice/care? Does she (provide your own expletive).

I turn on the TV to provide some stimulus/distraction. She turns it back off - she doesn't like the zoo programme (ugly animals), she doesn't like Shrek (ugly cartoon characters). I pick up the crossword and sudoku again.

6pm and the cavalry arrives in the form of lovely daughter. Mum reverts to Dr Jekyll. I take my leave just after 6.30 pm with a promise to return around lunchtime tomorrow. Thank goodness for Prozac.

Happy New Year?

Thanks again, everyone, for your support and kind comments. They are a real comfort to me, all the more so because I know you all have your own difficulties to deal with.

I debated about writing this post, seems as though I've done nothing but whinge for days. Still, I feel the need to document what has been happening, it saves burdening my poor family. I'm seriously thinking about seeing a counsellor to help me deal with mum. This is the story so far....

Mum was due to be discharged on Tuesday. I went to work and waited for the call. Hours went by. I phoned at regular intervals, each time being told they had to wait for the latest blood test results to be ok'd by the doctor before she could go. At 4pm she finally got the all clear. I left work, called at mum's to pick up some clothes and went to the hospital. She was furious. In her deaf person's loud voice she told me and the rest of the ward that she had been "heartbroken" all day, she thought I had abandoned her, if she had had her house keys she would have phoned someone to take her home and so on. No amount of my explaining that I'd had to wait for the hospital to give the go ahead, mollified her. I asked the ward sister to confirm this but mum didn't believe her, apparently she'd spent all day telling her that I'd forgotten about her.

Long story short, took mum home. Rode out the accusations and agreed to spend the night. I was quite happy to curl up on the settee but this infuriated mum. I was all the unnatural daughters under the sun for not wanting to sleep in the double bed - the one she and dad used to share that has a plastic cover over the mattress and is soooooooo uncomfortable. In the end she made such a fuss that I gave in. I kept hearing her mooching about during the night and a couple of times she came into the bedroom, I'm sure she was trying to wake me up. Eventually I thought it was light enough outside to be a reasonable hour - I rose and dressed. It was 5.30am.

Shattered, I just wanted to doze on the settee but mum complained constantly about the "deadly silence". I didn't know what to say. The hours rolled by. I made breakfast (half a slice of toast and a 30ml build up drink for mum), gave her her tablets, washed up, made beds and tidied up. Finally, mum curled up for a cat nap and I took the opportunity to do the same. She spent the rest of the day nodding off like this, no wonder she doesn't sleep at night! She seemed to have calmed down. The care team came and installed an alarm thingy - I doubt she'll keep the emergency button on the cord round her neck. Then the Fast Team carer arrived - mum is to have 10 days of free calls - breakfast, lunch and tea. After making mum some lunch (a spoonful of Cumberland Pie and two sprouts) and giving her a second anti-biotic, I went home for a shower and to do some shopping for mum before I went back to see how she'd got on with the tea-time carers. She hadn't - they'd been but she hadn't answered the door - asleep? deliberately awkward? Who knows. Could only get her to take her tablets, eat half a clementine and one chocolate. She was still curled up on the settee, nodding off every few minutes. I explained again that I had to go because we were going to a New Year's Eve party but I would be back again the next day.

Tired, but looking forward to an evening with friends, I was getting ready when the phone rang. Mum. "Never felt so lonely, considering getting a lodger to stay for free, had rung her cousin (who can see her daughter's house from her flat and has a son who does all her little jobs), what had I been doing all day(?!)" and on and on and on. Guilt descended like a millstone dredged from the depths of an Icelandic lake. I tried to enjoy the party but had to keep blinking away the tears. I couldn't wait for midnight to come so that I could go home and yet I dreaded it, in case the phone rang again.

My dog woke me up at 8.30am, so here I am.

It's 09:03. My mother has just rung. "Is that 'Lily'? Well I need help now, not at tea-time". She sounds in a foul mood. Wish me luck.