No caregiver truly knows what to expect, either in the changes that will come or in how well we’ll handle them. My mother has gone through a major transition in recent months. From all she’s communicating to me, she’s no longer losing the will to live, it’s finally gone.
No Longer Putting on a Happy Face
As I discussed on an earlier post about my introduction to elderly depression, my memories of my mother are of her always putting on a happy face, no matter how she felt inside. When suffering from illness or injury, and even in the worst of circumstances, she’d display her smile to the world and find things to laugh about. When people came to visit who she didn’t actually care to see, she’d offer friendly smiles and conversation, and all would feel welcome. My mother was a master of putting on a happy face.
This is no longer the case. She’s lost her ability to disguise her unhappiness; now it’s easy to see when she’s not doing well. Over the past year I’ve seen the signs progress. Each morning, as I situate mother in her chair, put drops in her eyes, and see to her needs, I ask her how she’s doing. When I first moved in with her to be a caregiver, her response was typically, “Oh, ok, I guess.” As time went on it progressed through responses like, “Oh, I’m not sure yet…” or a simple, “Eh…” while waggling her hand back and forth. Now, she consistently says, “Not very good at all” or, “Well, I’m still here, unfortunately.”
The Big Changes
Not so long ago, mother started saying, “Life’s just not worth living anymore. I can’t do anything for myself now.” This was largely driven by her loss of independence. She fought hard to maintain her ability to drive. When her license was suspended due to her dementia, she swore she’d drive anyways. The balance point we eventually reached was that when she’s feeling up to going somewhere, I drive her.
The first big loss was driving, more recently it’s walking. At home, she relies on her walker to be able to get around in the house. When she’s feeling up to going to the thrift store (currently her favorite outing), I bring her new wheelchair so that she can enjoy the event instead of constantly being out of breath and needing to sit down. Even so, accepting the chair wasn’t easy for her at all. She hates having to use it but appreciates that it allows her to go places.
Dark Feelings
Mother didn’t have the easiest time of things through her life, and the fact that she remembers so little of the hardest times is definitely a blessing for her. Yet through it all, her words were usually optimistic. Her optimism is one of the latest things to disappear.
Each morning after getting her situated, I’ll sit and talk with her. I’m starting to understand that mornings are the most difficult for her. I guess it’s because each new morning means that she has to go through another day of not being able to do things for herself. Another day of feeling poorly and having little to look forward to.
This morning, she said, “It’s just getting too hard, I wish I could just die and not have to do this anymore.” Another one that I’ve heard a few times lately is, “I wish my body would finally just give up.” She’s very resentful that her DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order was disregarded when her heart stopped in the hospital, and she often says, “I wish they’d have just left me dead.”
Difficult Feelings
I love my mother. I don’t want to see her suffering day after day. I do hope she can find a peaceful release from this prison life has become for her. When she does go, I know I’ll miss her, but I’ll also be happy for her… to know that she has finally been taken on to the next big adventure. I am one who believes that we are more than our physical body, and I believe that the most important part of us doesn’t end when our physical body expires.
But For Now…
Recently, while helping my mother into bed, I helped her with her covers and we said our good nights. She then looked up towards her ceiling and said, “Take me tonight, Lord. I’m ready.”
Until that happens, I’ll be here each day to keep her safe and comfortable, and do what I can to make her life better in the ways that I’m able.
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