The karma attached to my ability to be able to help mom in ways even if they are as simple as transition movements within this life and those lives that were past and are present and reveal future makes me very humble in what I am capable of doing. My mother takes patience and love. She requires silence and gentle handling for anything to work in a positive way.
I keep seeing shadows to my left and right side. More so on the left because of being blind in the left eye. I didn’t really think much of it until the other day when mom ask me if I was seeing things. I had to say yes.
Things were still a little fractured and chaotic but there was some consistency coming in face. I knew that I have to really dig into my spiritual tools and stay patient with the whole process.
In one of these visionary moments in time the visions shown themselves as a day of the week which could seem like lifetimes. Today I was sitting on the Thursday beach. It was sprinkling rain, a cold rain. I was mesmerized by the birds overhead and by the humanity that was scattered all around the facility. We seem like such gentle beings when we are confronted in places like this.
Mom said today that she is afraid that when she gets back that her mother won’t be there. I don’t know how to answer these questions that mom has. I usually tell the truth and mom always says, “Yes I know,” She just ask three times in a half an hour, “So where do I sleep?” I point to the bed in the room and say, “Mom, that’s your bed. This is your room.” We then go through the ritual, “You live here mom. I live here mom. This is your room. No you don’t owe anybody for the room. Medicare, Medicaid and SSI pays for the room and the food. Pays for the rehab and other things that go on here. This is where you sleep mom.” I finally told her I was going to go and find something to do. She told me not to get into any trouble like a mom would say to her ten or eleven year old boy who had a tendency to be getting into trouble. She then ask, “So where do I sleep? Oh I remember.” I sat for a few more minutes and then told her I was going. She said “I’ll be right here laying on the couch.”
I wheeled up to mom’s room last night and immediately knew there was something wrong. She was bent over towards the floor, having difficulty focusing and speaking. I finally went and got the nurse to find out her oxygen was way down and she was having a raging anxiety attack. The nurse and staff worked with her oxygen and gave her something to calm her down and put her to put sleep. Funny how the goal is always to get us resting so we will go to sleep. What if what would help is to take a damn walk, or roll.
She slept the rest of the night comfortably. I however didn’t.
I probably will be here when mom takes her last breath. Something I do not look forward to.
Mom is again on her tirade where she is so confused and agitated that is what is difficult being around her. I feel very helpless. She is asking questions that are just so incorrect. I have so far believed the truth is what she needs to hear. Hell the truth is what I need to hear also.
We live here at Lost Creek right now. This is my mother’s home address as well as my home address. Just different room numbers. Mom is here because she is old and I am here because I am handicapped. I keep going through this with her like a reoccurring nightmare. This is the temporary hell that I have been given to endure. I can guess I deserve this. I really can’t see why mom deserves this. I suppose again the truth is we all deserve this.
I sit in this room knowing that I sleep too much, that I am depressed or I sit in the room and I feel so small and helpless and I feel like this is the last of my life and this is how I will spend it.
I cannot accept that as a reality.
This is a healing, a rehabilitation.
The future holds something very special for me. I know it. I can feel it like energy coursing through my veins. I have to stay focused. I have to stay positive.
The world seems to be falling apart all around me. The news is filled with one bizarre story after another one. This world just does not seem like the world I remember such a short time ago. I wonder if it is my sanity that has gone away or if the world, the universe really is what is insane.
It’s time for my barrage of pills for the evening. Man I am sick and tired of taking pills.
Those times when I can think clearly about what has happened over the last three years usually brings me down into a funk for a bit. The over prescribing of drugs, the combining of medications that create terrible side effects and the incorrect diagnosis of what is wrong happened across the board with me. I was found comatose twice over the incompetence of the medical people I was involved with and each time I was treated like I had done something wrong and was forced to withdrawal from all medications. Once I got up here at lost creek they finally got the meds straightened out. I will always have mixed feelings about the meds. I know what good drugs can do for you. I have tripped pure and experienced the essence of enlightened consciousness but I have also experienced through the medical field the sheer terror of hallucinations due to chemical imbalances through medication.
I am desperately missing being out in the real world right now. It happens every day now. I understand somewhere that I don’t belong here anymore and that is a travesty within itself. I deserve another change at a real life with some safety nets and guidelines in place.
It’s been a slow few days mom going in and out of reality but she seems to be getting better. Nathan and Chuckles brought over Lee’s chicken the other day and we had a nice visit.
I have final figured out that my mother thinks we are travelling on a bus. The entire building which is four long hallways that merge into the center where the offices and open visiting space is. We are an enormous bus or something like that that is travelling and where we are staying right now is in Lima, Ohio. She wanted to know today when we would finally get to a place where she would be she would be able to call home again.
With further conversations it’s not a bus it’s a train. She said, “Well this will be the last time I get on this train? It never stops anyplace that you can call home.”