So, we are at day 10 of our new living arrangements with Mama...
The move itself occurred over a 7 day period, when we moved all of our own boxes and household items, and then we hired a removalist to move the furniture. Definitely the hard way to do it, but we saved $$ so I can't complain. We are still finishing up at the unit, cleaning and getting the carpets shampoo-ed, and getting the place sprayed for pests. That happens this week. Hopefully we'll be able to hand in our notice this week. We have a medical release letter from my psychiatrist, so that we can get an early lease break. We know that we'll have to pay up a little more, but we've finally escaped the constant noise and lack of privacy. We have to sleep in separate rooms for the first time in our married life, and we hate it, but it's a small price to pay if we know that in doing so, Mama is safe in her own home.
I know we all have an adjustment period to go through, but I think it's going to take me longer to adjust than everyone else. Ray is skating along, sliding over the top of everything. He cooks dinner most nights, including Mama's Meals on Wheels, which is very good of him. And sometimes he remembers to get the washing off the line. But otherwise, he just does his thing, watching TV, sleeping, and resting up before chemo starts the week after next.
But otherwise, it's all me.
Washing, ironing, tidying up, setting the table, clearing the table, washing up, cleaning the kitchen (which hasn't been touched since the last time I cleaned it), cleaning the laundry (which looked as if it hadn't been touched in years), Mama's washing and ironing... and the list goes on. Thank goodness we have a cleaning lady coming in to do the floors and bathrooms!
She deeply resents any kind of change. Ray wheedles change out of her. But when I ask politely for something to change, she yells blue murder at me, and then I retreat. Maybe I need to use Ray as the conduit.
On the other hand, she follows me everywhere, wherever I go. She watches me do her work, her washing, her ironing, etcetera, with blank eyes, as if she's wondering where that work actually came from. Whenever I go to my room, she stands in the doorway, and repeats the same things she has said to me five minutes earlier in the kitchen, as she watches me clean. She will comment in fury that the kitchen isn't dirty, but then I show her the blackened Pinowipes, and she looks at them in astonishment. So I am trying to work my way around those awkward moments without making her feel small or inadequate, although it's very difficult.
Sometimes it's really challenging for me to watch her doing her thing. She flits from one task to another, forgetting where she needs/wants to put things, or why she's had them out in the first place. Things just get moved from one room to another.
When we go out, she asks me where we are going. Then when we get to our destination, she'll say, "What are we here for? I didn't want to come here!" I gently remind her why we are there, and the light bulb suddenly flickers on again... She apologises profusely, and then as we walk around, she'll ask me again why we're there. It's so sad to watch her decline like that.
Mercifully, I have the study in which to hide. Whenever I want quiet time, they both know that I retreat in here, and put my glasses on, and look intently at the screen, often with my earphones on... to drown out the sound of the TV which is set to "deafening" every night. I hide in here, trying to work out ways and means...
This whole episode is teaching me one of Heavenly Father's primary values - patience. I only hope that when I grow old and decrepit, someone will be patient with me...
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