How Mom and I Got to This Point

So how did Mom and I arrive at this point? Well, here's the short story.

About 10-11 months ago, what I and my Mom have come to think of as the Great Change took place. I was at work (I'm a clinical social worker / therapist by profession) and I came home from work to find Mom sitting on the floor in front of her chair. She had tried to stand up, and ended up not falling, but sliding off into the floor. She was very frightened; as was I when I arrived. For the next few days, we went through a process that involved an assessment by her doctor and a cortisone shot to one of her knees; but basically, since that fateful day, she has generally lost her mobility. She becamse (generally) chair-bound / wheelchair bound. Prior to that point, she relied on a walker, and although I helped with this and that, she was largely independent inside her home. After that point, things changed radically.

I tried to maintain full-time employment until last March, when it became clear that nearly full-time assistance would be necessary. Mom and I had many conversations about this, and bottom line, I agreed to give up my job in order to provide full-time care. There was the possibility of my continuing to do part time work, but this just wasn't feasible as a practical matter, although I continue to provide clinical supervision for one social worker who is seeking licensure. Otherwise, I'm no longer active in my profession.

Regarding Mom's ailments: she's 87 years old, and has scoliosis and osteo-arthritis which continue to undermine her ability to walk and restrict her ability to use her hands and arms. She also has congestive heart failure (CHF) which landed her in the hospital last March, just before I gave up my job. She has very tender, very thin skin, which has resulted in a number of very slow-to-heal skin tears, for which home health nurses come out weekly to help her with wound care.

Mom also has experienced a range of cognitive declines involving confusion, sometimes disorientation, and delusion.

Things could of course be much worse, but frankly, I knew next to nothing about any of these things prior to the developments of the past year. I'm learning. But each day is a challenge.

By the way, one of the real blessings of this I guess is that I finally get to find out what it's like to be a real, live full-time caregiver. This is a first for me. I'm 53 years old, am divorced, no children, and have never served as a caregiver. My Mom, of course, was a caregiver: for me; and for my sister. In many ways, I am only repaying ... in a very small way, comparatively speaking ... what Mom has long since given me. And I am finding out, in a small way, what she went through as a full time caregiver. Frankly, I think I've grown enormously in my respect and honor for parents and caregivers in general through my experience.

I really do have so much to be grateful for. If I can only remember that, by God's Grace, through all this.