The bulk of my angst this past week has come from my mother’s illness and not so much her being in a rest home. I feel an overwhelming sadness each time she says something distinctly dementia-like. The sadness plants itself in the center of my stomach, causing all sorts of gastro-intestinal problems. The pain floats up like a thin smoky haze and wraps around my heart, causing palpitations and anxiety. I think I have more physical symptoms from my mother’s illness than she does!
She has taken another tiny step further into her disease. She no longer remembers she has a bed at the rest home, what floor it’s on, that her clothes are there. Last night she asked where my best friend Lisa was and thought the rest home was Lisa's house. She has been sundowning every day again so we need to incorporate a new medication to help with that. I’ll be meeting with her psychiatrist on Monday to discuss. It will be a fine balance knocking out the sundowning while not turning her into a zombie.
Seeing the decline, assured it will only get worse, and knowing that we have years of this ahead of us is truly making me physically and emotionally sick. Somewhere in my brain I know her being at the rest home is the best thing so the angst from that ebbs and flows like an ocean wave. But the sadness of her illness is a steady trickling stream.
I long for the day when I will have some happy news to post. When mom and I will both feel better. I pray for it everyday. Just a little relief. A tiny bit to get me through without so much of an internal battle.