That terrible shrill voice, “Robert, Robert!”  I finally go out and ask the nurse and aids if my mother has to endure listening to that woman call out or her dead husband’s name every single night.

          Mom had a whopper of an anxiety attack today and it freaked me out completely.  She won’t get in her bed and sleep because she is convinced she won’t wake up or she will wake up in another room or another building.

          My mother worries about money constantly and the irony here is that everything is being paid for out of her Medicare, Medicaid and SSI.  It’s a sad testament to what we do to ourselves especially if we spend most of our lives poor.  From beginning to end nothing matters but the money. 

          Mom seems so fragile, so childlike, she seems so small all curled up in that damned uncomfortable chair they got for her.

          She’s afraid she won’t get to eat because there is no food where she can see it.  She doesn’t like going to the cafeteria but when she has the meals delivered to her room it didn’t really click with her that she is supposed to eat.  I don’t go to the cafeteria either.  I am not really all that friendly or social.  I believe that this is still temporary for me but now what do I do with mom.  Does she go with me?

          Her biggest switch to anxiety is that she went to sleep in her bed in her home and literally woke up in another place.  With the meds and changes a transition of better living has taken place and she is more aware even though she is also more fragile and frightened and irrational.

          My mother and father lived fifty some odd years being poor.  Not the poor of the poor.  There were times when dad made a decent wage at Westinghouse but when he quit the factory job after fifteen years mom had to go to work and they were seriously strapped for money.  I was off and married living a comfortable life.  Watching as my mother and father and three brothers lived a poor life.

          I never wanted to be poor.  I was ashamed to think that we were underprivileged when I was in school.  I knew when Maggie and I got married the one thing we would never be and the one thing that my daughter would never have to feel was deprived of anything.

          Today I am like fifty million elderly who are considered poor.  My mother and I live in a nursing home for different reasons but the method of recovery and stay are the same?  The federal government makes sure to take back every cent and more that was given to you and forces you to live in a ridiculous housing establishment that just barely meets your needs.  The current facility that we are in does a fine job with the help that is here but there is only so much that can be done under the conditions.  This is however the true crime of our government, our country.  We look the other way at the treatment of our elderly and handicapped.  We thrive for youth and we punish those who are old and dying.  Dying never made anything better unless it was to satisfy our hunger and lust.

          I have been going three days a week for around three years now to dialysis.  It doesn’t get any easier or any more comfortable.  It just becomes a part of my daily life and there are no other options.  The entire system in place and how we are taken care of is the most arcane thing I have ever seen.  The sticking large needles into my arm ever time and drawing out the blood into a machine that cleans the blood and then puts it back into the body is truly and ancient feeling process.  Might as well be using leeches.

          I have never felt like an old man.  There are times now at the age of sixty that I feel older.  I know somewhere that old isn’t really something that starts until the seventies but according to the way the body has been treated the sixties can feel older, feel like things are moving along quickly.  This is somewhere more cumbersome with the fact that there are things wrong with me.  My life will have to have certain things taken care of for the rest of my time here on earth.

          I have moments when I will find myself trying to get a handle of what my life used to be and what it is now.  These are two completely different avenues and they lead to two or more completely different lives.

          When mom is going through her anxiety the look on her face shakes me to the core.  I know exactly what that feeling is.  I know what it is to be happier sleeping and dreaming than trying to live the waking life while your mind is not playing by the rules.  The hallucinations be the physically or chemically induced are real just as what is being portrayed is real and what can be more damaging and more destructive is to find that you cannot sleep out of fears and irrational illusions.

          Mom is convinced that we are holed up in a motel somewhere between Plain City and Lima or maybe on another planet.  The idea that this is a nursing home just isn’t sinking in.  She continues to believe that when I leave after visiting her that I leave the entire facility and that I go to my home.  I tell her mom this is my home and she will then say, oh yea, I knew that.  Immediately she will begin her rant on going to have to walk home.  I finally got it today that where she is waking is on the West Side of Columbus when she was a young girl.  Her mother and Uncle Paul and mom lived on the west side.  The other night she said Uncle Paul was like her dad but that Uncle Paul was really a shithead of a man.  I’m guessing I will find out more about Paul as days pass[MC1]  by.  My mother’s life has been a very real mystery.  We never knew very much at all of her upbringing.

          She is becoming more frustrated but bounces back pretty quickly.

          Mom believes that if she gets in her bed and goes to sleep there is no guarantee she will wake up in the same room. This of course is absolutely true.  It’s not necessarily going to happen at this time but fear, irrational fears can be exactly true.  I have finally got her to use the recliner to allow her to get her legs up in the air and to get some sleep.

          I wheeled to her room at around midnight and she was nicely spread out on her recliner and was listening to Joel Olsteen.  Olsteen was taking about destiny genes.  He was talking about how God placed in our DNA these genetic tools that gave use the potential and power inside of us to accomplish amazing things and to have wonderful talents show up when these genes are activated.

          Listening to a man of God speak of DNA and genetic building blocks that when needed will be set free and we will do and be things that we never thought possible is genuinely refreshing.  I was able to listen with an open heart and mind and not feel beat up with God and Bible and sin and pain.  Ironically I would have never attributed this beautiful spiritual action to God but I have believed the potential is inside of us and is just waiting to bloom forward.  Part of my destiny right now is to be there in my handicapped state in the same nursing home for my mother.  I know that I will not always be this handicapped but I am for now and I am being allowed to have aspects of my life and spirit to come to life and grant me such power and glory.  It’s cool stuff.

          I have always believed that tremendous faith and spirit and determination is needed for these things to happen along with a mix of the tremendous people and places and things that surround me.  I takes me paying attention, opening my mind and spirit and believing that there is something great just around the corner.  I believe that the last eight years have been years of great struggle that required from me a tremendous leap into the consciousness of the infinite all.  I believe that the remainder of my time here which could be another twenty years or more will be fill with such exquisitely prevailing gifts.

          Tonight it was not a coincidence that I wheeled down to check on mom.  I was to hear Joel speak while letting my mother feel safer and more comfortable at me being there.  Joel was speaking to me tonight.  It opened up so many of my ideas and beliefs, so many of the readings of my past.  The positive things that took place during this life.  Also the negative things I allowed to happen and I ended up resting in this place I am at right now.

 

 

Views: 77

Comment by alsoknownas on July 20, 2015 at 6:29am

I am surprised to see you write that the Prosperity Gospel preaching of Joel Osteen appealed to you.

As long as you didn't send money.

Yikes.

Comment by Phyllis on July 20, 2015 at 8:28am
I run across random religious shows that speak to me, stuff I need at the time. I'm glad you got a good sign.
Comment by nerd cred on July 20, 2015 at 10:15am

What aka said - and I'm glad you've got that positive support.

I'm surprised to hear they stick you every time for dialysis.
My nephew had peritoneal dialysis which used an installed port.
Very different processes, I know. But all that sticking.

Comment by Zanelle on July 20, 2015 at 11:02am

You write so well about your situation.  Thank you for reporting from the edge of the known universe.  You are in the right place doing the right thing with the right people.  Gratitude. 

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