My Brother had to put his mother, Chatty in a hospice/home today. She’s very upset about it, understandably so, but he and Faux just can’t take care of her even with the In Home Caregivers daily. This all came to a head when the caregivers canceled over the holiday weekend, giving Brother and Faux a nasty taste of the pressure of taking care of a dying woman and preparing for a new baby.
Faux is getting induced tomorrow. They have a pre-appointment today, and Brother had to rush to get the paperwork filled out and Chatty moved in ALL BEFORE their pre-appointment today. I’ve been recruited to pick up the last of Chatty’s things from their home and take them to the new hospice/home and help Chatty by organizing her new room.
I don’t want to. It’s too sad. I am going to have to go through her old room, bring a bunch of stuff to her new place where she doesn’t want to be, and pretend that everything is fine.
It’s not fine. She’s dying and nobody can take care of her the way she wants to be taken care of. She doesn’t want to be taken care of by “strangers”, we’ve all explained that “all the caregivers were once strangers” and “it’ll be an adjustment but you’ll be ok” but it’s not ok.
My poor Brother is wracked with guilt and torturing himself because he’s torn between his desire to take care of his dying mother, his rock, his biggest fan, the one family member he’s always been close to; and his wife and soon-to-be born son and their comfort in their own home. Granted, in my eyes, the dying woman should take precedent; and the rest of the stuff can fit around it. But it’s too much work, trying to take care of a newborn is going to be hard enough, dealing with someone at the end of their life too just overflows one’s capacity for dealing with stuff.
It’s Sad Wednesday.