I'm very sick right now. Likely just a simple cold that teamed up with my weakened immune system to form a sinus infection. They're my specialty, it seems.
Mom is struggling to take care of herself. She can't find food and we're getting random people to get her juice it up and yogurt. She convinced her physical therapist to go get her yogurt and me some imitation nyquil. Yesterday, it was my bff that drove a half-conscious me to get juice it up. I'm grateful for the friends and people in our lives that bless us when we're in need. The house looks like one on buried alive, I can't smell anything, but I'm sure the litter needs to be changed...I'd air out the house but it's raining. Mom's bones hurt in the rain, and honestly, so do mine.
I'm sure after some rest, I'll be back to normal. Well, normal for me. Normal, I've learned, is a relative term. For instance, most people don't celebrate when their mother has a bowel movement, but life offers endless opportunities to adjust your perspective. I've been evaluating those things recently, in fact - opportunities and perspective. I was most recently involved in organizing a nonprofit event. It was an opportunity for personal and professional growth, and I learned far more than I expected to. Though the cause was more than worthy, and the passion was there, the customers weren't. It was financially a flop, but I choose not to see it a failed venture. I learned so much and spoke to so many new contacts that it was worth it at face value. I also found that I truly love nonprofits with heart. I gained a lot of knowledge from the effort I put into the event, but the big fat hairy deal is that I really loved doing it. The cause...I pictured women wanting to get clean, trying to remember how their life turned into the complete disaster that surrounded them. I saw them look at their children, wish for a way out, and know of none. To choose between your kids and getting clean...yes, this cause was worth it. It still is. And in time, this misadventure will prove to have been a minor bump in the road, at worst, and at best, a wonderfully enriching experience meeting great people and opening doors that will eventually see the sober house to fruition. It's perspective.
I think I want to do this for a living- a liaison between nonprofits and the people and corporations they need on their side. It's very exciting to have a new goal in life. To find my niche. My place.
I was put in my place by mom's therapist at the hokey pokey clinic. I asked him if we should talk, to give him another perspective on mom's behavior, since hers is so skewed by her memory and cognitive impairment. He asked what information I could offer that would help him to help her and I told him how she tells the doctor that the anxiety medication isn't working, yet she hasn't had a crying spell in over a month, so it must be doing something. He said he didn't think that would be helpful, because if he was feeling anxious and someone was telling him that he wasn't, he didn't know how he would respond. I earned that bruise on my ass myself, thank you very much, by falling off my high horse. I am humbled and reminded to put myself in my mom's shoes. Should've seen it coming. I'm too old to behave like such a jackass.
My place seems to have shifted yet again. In my thinking, which is a lot of what I do when I'm sick, because I haven't the energy to do much else, I thought about this blog. The original purpose was to keep my family apprised of Mom's health, as she was on hospice and I was attempting to keep a straight face while working, wondering if I would come home to her on the floor again. Over time, it's become a place to disclose mom's condition, raise awareness to the general populace of these illnesses called liver disease and hepatic encephalopathy and the destruction they wreak, and offer a daughter's perspective on how they affect our lives on a daily basis. I've realized this blog was always for myself and not so much for mom. We're in it together, for sure, but "Kathy's Page" doesn't seem to be an appropriate name in this light. I haven't yet decided what to call this page, but it'll have to change, and soon.
As far as mom is concerned, she isn't well, but she never is. Her hernia is growing too fast for my comfort zone, so I addressed it with her primary and he referred her to a surgeon for a consult. She's gaining weight, which is weird. After several years of her losing weight for no apparent reason, she's actually getting a little chub. She had her catheter changed, and this one feels much better than the last one, but the bag is the kind that twists closed. Which means there's an in between "open" and "closed", which means that sometimes mom's knee pees. People don't get the humor, but you have to laugh at this stuff. It's the perspective. Some people will read this and think, "ew, there's pee where pee shouldn't be and how embarrassing." Those with an altered perspective (i.e. those with a twisted sense of humor and morbid outlook on life) will read this and think, "hey, at least it's a change from pooptalk, and now my prom story doesn't sound nearly as bad, and I can tell my uncle that someone else also pees into a bag and sometimes on the floor." Plus, there was a little rhyming there, which reminds me of Dr. Seuss, whose imagery fits our lives in humorous ways. This illness leaves no room for pride, no time for privacy. Medication makes choices for my mom that she wouldn't. I choose to stand by her when she squeaks in public. I choose to clean up after her when she makes a mess. I choose to let it go when she's a jackass in public and people look at me and wonder how I put up with that attitude. It's because they won't be there when she says something that makes me laugh so hard I wish I had a pee bag of my own. I choose to be open to learning from her and listening to her, and being put in my place by her therapist. My mom is far from perfect, and I may be farther, but in the grand scheme of things, perfection is overrated and I can't recall anyone laughing at perfection.
I'm hacking up a lung, so I'm wrapping this up now. Ow.
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