October 2, 2024
It’s a Saturday and I am sitting in my bedroom, which used to be my dad’s study and mom’s bedroom after he passed on. I like that it is mine now. The paneling is peeling and so is the green paint, but it is the coziest room in the house. It is the smallest and I have placed lamps all over the room and at night the room is lit in a gentle light from the lamps which relaxes me.
It’s noisy this morning — traffic, construction, and a kite that may or may not be old squealer. S/he exhibits the same behaviors and squealing as squealer from my Jan visit. I still don’t know why I am so obsessed with him/her and why I project a personality into him/her. It does bring lightness into the days here.
Yesterday mom refused to eat her protein biscuits at tea. They are thin biscuits, and she only has to have four a day. After two days of eating them, she exclaimed, ‘Biscuit holiday,’ and ate another snack. I asked my sis for support and she sided with mom. I yelled, both said something in a condescending tone, and I said, whatever, and left the room.
I sat in my bedroom and drew and made notes. I drew two pages on different sides on a page in my A6 and wrote my sister’s name on one and me on another. I then drew a page in the centre with both our names and a question mark. I drew scales with the words empathy and compassion on one side, and pushing through and discipline on the other. I said I tilt towards the latter and called myself stern. I said my sister tilts towards the former and called her coddler.
My sister came into my room to try to patch things up. A first for her. Normally she waits until I make a move. My anger was huge and I couldn’t re-concile.
Earlier that day we had fought. I was helping mom wear a belt-harness. She had asked me to pull out her older ones and air them so we could see if they might help her stay straight while walking. My sis had walked in on this scene and begun yelling, ‘Stop it. She can’t do it. Look at her face.’
I had said, ‘I am just trying. You talk as if I torture her. She asked me to see if I would help, but do it your way.’
That argument had ended when we had held up mom and taken her for her first round of the day and then helped settle her in bed. I felt remorseful as I could see that attempt had increased her pain considerably.
So, there was tension and difference already building up since noon and yesterday evening I told my sis I would handle talking to mom when I was less annoyed. ‘Let us both cool off,’ I said, and she went off to do some chores.
After a bit more drawing, I went to my mom and told her gently about the biscuits and what the doc had said. She said what she ate had the same nutrients. I got angry walked out, walked back in and said, ‘I challenge you to say that to the doctor.’
She went silent, then stuck her head out and waved her hand and said, ‘I challenge you…’ and we both began laughing.
But of course it didn’t end there. I asked her when she will do her round of walking — we had decided she’s start with a few and slowly build up, three times a day. She said, no to the walk and added, ‘Once the new meds work, I will be able to exercise.’
There was a difficult conversation to be had as I felt a need to remind her that the doc had said clearly that only the meds will do nothing, she must exercise, walk, and eat right too. She sulked.
I left the room and went back to mine, muttering under my breath. Then went out to look for my sis. I found her with mom. I pulled her aside and told her that mom was back to expecting the meds to create a miracle. She frowned and asked mom when she would do her next walk.
Mom, huffed off, feeling persecuted I am guessing. While my sis and I were chatting softly about her, she suddenly passed us with her walker. Normally she needs help to get it out as it is wedged in a corner. She ignored us and took a half round down the long corridor.
I guess that storm passed and for a bit my sis and I were on the same page.
But I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t understand my anger. I know it partially came from worry, now as I was more than half way through my trip, but I had been gentle and allowed her to drop out some exercises when she said she was in pain. Why had ‘biscuit holiday’ bugged me so much?
Only late at night when everyone was asleep, and I was dropping off after reading a few pages of Maya Angelou, I realized that while I was willing to understand days when pain would keep her from exercising, I couldn’t understand her lack of commitment to her healing when it came to consuming four thin biscuits.
There is probably more beneath this simple explanation but right now I am not sure what. I am wondering if my time here is useful in the way my sis wanted it to be. I worry how she will cope once I leave.
Before this entire experience I used to think that I was probably a selfish person and would not be able to dedicate my days to taking care of someone. I am glad to see I was wrong about myself. Yet a lot of growth is needed in the direction of selfless care for another, or is it also true that being aware of the needs of me as a care-giver will in fact make long term care easier?
Again, I guess each one finds, their own path.
Squealer 2 is making a racket outside, even more than squealer used to make. I don't know what his/her problem is.
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