Every time I visit my mother I come away with a sense of both incredible sadness and determined inspiration.
My mother is on her own journey and it’s all a one way ride.
My mother is the person who has cared for others her whole life. She had five children in seven years. She was milking cows with four Children under five in Prams and pushchairs in the cowshed with her. She spent four years bring that family of five up while Supporting husband who was a top dressing pilot. She only told me when I was an adult how she spent years in dread waiting to get that phone call that the plane had gone down. She, along with dad, were Pioneers in the exporting blueberries business in New Zealand working through each summer, providing employment and a listening caring ear to all the teenagers of the small rural district we lived in.
In later years she spent much time looking after grandchildren who’s time in the home crossed over the children. She was an amazing carer for a husband 10 years her senior when that age difference became noticeable. In 2010 dad had a comprehensive stroke and we were told he’d never walk again and was unlikely to leave hospital. She had him home within 3 months, had him walking in 9 and cared for him for four years until we finally persuaded her to put him into a care facility. She visited every day for that last year of his life, and not just for an hour. She was there for at least four or five hours most days.
And now, just three years on, our mother, that person who has cared for others all her life, is on a very sad, very rapid one way journey from which she is not returning. Parkinson’s disease has become complicated by Alzheimer’s, and the fact she has been a coeliac and gluten free for 30 years has also probably contributed to the decline of her body as well as her mind. The shaking, and the staring because she can’t quite make out who you are from a distance or what is going on. The inability to dress or toilet without support. The repetition- the same questions asked 5 times in the space of a minute forgetting you’ve just answered it.
In the last twenty months she has gone from living in her own home, to moving into an independent apartment in a retirement village, to moving into a serviced apartment with some degree of care with things like meals provided and washing done, to moving into full time care. It’s been rapid, it’s been scary and it’s been incredibly sad. And if it’s like that for us looking in from the outside I can’t comprehend what it’s like for her.
This afternoon I had to explain to her what a rubbish bin was. She sees and hears things that aren’t there and dribbles continually. She cries, a lot, and asks you if she’s imagining things or going crazy,.
It is incredibly sad, and a very un-dignifying and cruel way to see your life out. Especially at only 75.
And while we are sad and grieving already for the mother, who while still breathing, is disappearing before our eyes, we also need to take inspiration. She lived her life helping others, including five children who will now, in their turn, do everything they can to ensure her final years are comfortable.
She didn’t get to do all the things she wanted to in life, visit the places she wanted to, see the things she wanted to see. There was always someone who needed her more than she needed to do something for herself. I’m actually inspired by the time she has lost- to be a little selfish- to not make every single minute about looking after others but to get out there and travel, to experience, do and see things when I can, never knowing what might be around the next corner in life’s journey. To care for others, but also to care for myself.
We are fortunate that she’s in a great care facility with incredibly caring and thoughtful staff who spend time with her and communicate with us about what’s happening for her. We are fortunate that there are five of us and our extended families to share the load.
We are more fortunate than many who lose their loved ones much earlier in life.
But we are incredibly sad about the one way journey inside herself somewhere our mother is taking.
