Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Seems like a lifetime ago

Was it October that I last wrote? Could it really be almost five months? Seems like a lifetime ago.

I shot into the world of blogging with excited expectation, a potential outlet for my life embroiled in Alzheimer’s. I needed a place to work out my feelings, make sense of the ridiculous, vocalize the horror, document the black journey.

What I didn’t realize is that it would make things worse and plant me deeper into the dark garden of sadness. I was barely making it through the actual true life moments; writing about them increased their color and flavor, almost like creating post-war flashbacks.

Yet, writing has always been a love of mine and I appreciated the following of such caring and understanding people. And so I wrote until I couldn’t anymore. And I brought myself so close to the edge that I couldn’t even read or comment on other blogs. I ran away. And I’m sorry.

Mom has been living at a Rest Home for a month now. It was among the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. It cost me nights of agonizing rumination, many consecutive days of all out sobbing, and 10 lbs that just vanished somewhere.

But it was the right decision. Of that, I have no doubt. I could not provide the level of care she needed. And so, I leave that now to professionals. When the guilt giant starts to grumble, I remember that it is Alzheimer’s that moved my mother out of my home. Not me.

Yet, my caretaking of her continues and in some ways is more intense. I visit everyday and if I can’t, my husband does. I scrutinize her care at the Rest Home, every single facet of it. I make no recriminations but many suggestions. She is well cared for there or she wouldn’t be where she is. Still, no one can do it like I can. Blood and history make a perfectionist out of a caregiver.

So, it is done. She is there and I am here. A piece of me feels lost but I don’t know which piece. I just know that I feel all wrong.

I have missed writing and perhaps I will start another blog someday that won’t be seeded in sadness. And perhaps I will find you all again, those who took this journey with me and paved it with advice, acceptance and love. Thank you, truly, for your wisdom and kindness.

I wish you all the very best,