It has been three months since my mother moved in with us and I became her constant care taker. Some days it has been a struggle. Yes, I am struggling.
Struggling with watching my mother slowly lose herself.
Struggling with my lack of privacy.
Struggling with my exhaustion.
Struggling with my guilt.
Struggling with my anger.
But mostly? I am struggling with the feeling of abandonment. Three months ago my family insisted that we remove my mother from a bad environment. (For the record, I agreed that my sister needed a break and it was no longer the right living arrangement - for either of them for various reasons.) Everyone was right there when they made the decision. Everyone was right there offering themselves for whatever I would need.
But since then? Not so much.
I know she is MY mother. I know she didn't choose to have this disease but in this last week I have asked for help from four different family members and only one came through. My sister had someone over at her house every other day. (I do live an hour and a half away from everyone though.)
I miss my little family of three. I know I'll miss my mom when she's gone. It's a terrible catch-twenty-two.
But I still feel abandoned.
Edited to add: My mom has finally been approved for the Choices program. (A state program similar to hospice that gives patients nursing home placement while paying 100% of the bill.) We will be moving her into a home this weekend.