When I first moved in with Mom in 2012 to be her caregiver, I was astonished at the amount of mail and phone calls she and Grandma received from businesses and charities asking for donations. Sister M. warned me of Mom's bad habit of staying up all hours of the night watching QVC and HSN, then calling in to order whatever it was they were selling, sometimes ordering multiple items at a time. She had two carpet shampooers and three vacuum cleaners in the front coat closet, plus a brand new vacuum still in the box sitting in the living room as evidence of her out-of-control spending.
Sister M. told me about a time when Mom saw a commercial advertising some kind of emergency car kit, and Mom thought they were such a great idea that she ordered one for herself, one for Grandma, and one for each of her kids for Christmas presents. I bet the sales rep that got Mom's call was happy! Sister M. intercepted the delivery, called the company to cancel and return to sender, and got Mom's money refunded.
I have the following entry in my journal dated January 14, 2013:
Grandma and I were sitting on her couch in her apartment chatting when the phone rang. Mom was sitting in Grandma's recliner next to the phone, so she looked at the Caller ID, then picked up. She listened for a long time as the person on the other end talked--I assumed it was a family member in New Mexico calling with an update about Grandma's sister, who had recently suffered a fall and was hospitalized. But when Mom said, "The most I can do right now is twenty," I immediately stopped talking to Grandma and asked, "Mom, who's on the phone?"
She threw me a dirty look and refused to answer, so I stood and walked over to her.
"Credit," Mom told the caller. "Okay, hold on."
I panicked. "Mom! Who is that?"
She set the phone down to go get her credit card so I asked again who it was. "I don't know, ask them!" she dared. Either she was being defiant or she actually didn't know to whom she was speaking.
"Mom, you can't afford to make a donation right now. Just tell them 'No, thank you.'"
She stood defiantly, turned on her heel, and walked out. I picked up the phone. "May I ask who's calling?"
The caller answered, "This is Barbara from Ross Parsley Ministries."
"I'm sorry, my mother isn't able to make a donation at this time. Could you please cancel her pledge and add our number to your Do Not Call List?" Barbara begrudgingly obliged. I thanked her and hung up, then went to go find Mom.
"Mom, you can't be making a donation every time someone calls you! I've warned you about how dangerous this is."
"I can do what I want!" she said, stomping her foot. She stormed off to Grandma's apartment while I went downstairs to get her morning medications. When I returned, Grandma's door was locked, so I knocked. Grandma kept her door unlocked during the day so that we could come in any time, so when it was locked, I knew Mom had done it.
"Come in!" Grandma hollered.
"I can't, it's locked!" I tried to yell loud enough for my hearing-impaired grandmother to hear me. "I need to give Mom her medicine!"
"I'm eating breakfast!" Mom yelled, "and I'm not ready to take them now."
I decided not to argue while Mom was in a pouty mood, so I sat at her kitchen table and ate a bowl of cereal. Thirty minutes later, Mom walked to the pantry where she proceeded to load her arms up with food.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm bringing my food to Mom's--SHE can cook for me!"
"Oh, so now you're mad at me? Mom, I've told you before how dangerous credit card fraud is, especially over the phone! Scammers specifically target seniors, and you're no exception. Besides, Sister M. said you need to rein in your spending and you can't be making donations to everybody who calls on the phone!"
"I don't like being told what to do or being treated like a child!" Mom stamped her foot.
"I'm not trying to tell you what to do and I'm not treating you like a child, I'm trying to keep you safe! To protect you! That's why Husband G. and I are here. Besides, you didn't even know who the charity was you were donating to!"
"I did too! I've seen the number on the Caller ID before, so I know I've donated to them before."
"No, Mom, I don't care what the Caller ID says, you don't know if that caller is legitimate or not. I worked for the phone company for nine years, I know what I'm talking about! Haven't you heard about how scammers call and trick people, especially seniors, into thinking they're donating to a charity and it's so they'll give their credit card over the phone, and before you know it, thousands of dollars of unauthorized charges show up on your credit card bill? It happens all the time! You don't EVER give your credit card number over the phone when someone calls YOU! If YOU call a legitimate company and they need your card, that's different, but you NEVER give out your card number if someone calls YOU!"
"Whatever!" she dismissed me and started to head for Grandma's apartment with her arms loaded down.
"No, Mom, don't just say, 'Whatever!' This is important, you need to hear what I'm saying! You need to understand."
"Well, I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Alright, you let me know when you're ready to talk about it then." And she went to Grandma's, locking the door behind her. It was her passive aggressive way to tell me--in not so many words--to leave her alone, end of discussion.
I don't tell her this stuff because I'm a dictator! I tell her to protect her! There are so many scammers out there, and she and Grandma are both at risk because they're mentally unstable and "softies." And they don't know how to say No! Especially Grandma!
A month later while sitting at a traffic light on our way to a doctor's appointment, I received a text from Sister M., "Do you know anything about these make-up kits that Mom ordered? I just got one in the mail addressed to me, but it looks like Mom ordered them. It's not her regular Discover card number on the order form. Did she get a new card?"
After reading the text, I turned to Mom, "I just got a text from Sister M. about some sort of make-up kit? Do you know anything about it?"
Mom's posture stiffened and she crossed her arms. "I ordered them!"
"How? I took all your credit cards away."
I had told Sister M. about Mom's close call with the charity on the phone and my concern she was going to get scammed, so M. told me to take all Mom's credit cards and ID cards and hold onto them for her. If Mom ever asked me for a card, I was to "supervise" anything she did with it.
"Mom gave me her card."
"She GAVE it to you or you TOOK it?" I clarified.
"No," she got defensive, "I asked her for it and she gave it to me."
I was livid now. "Oh, so it's not enough that I had to take your credit cards away, now you're convincing Grandma to surrender her card to you whenever you want so you can charge up her card?" And of course, Grandma would never tell Mom 'No'!
"No, I told her to deduct my charges from her rent check."
I was flabbergasted! "Mom! Taking away your credit cards is for your own protection! You don't just go behind my back and trick Grandma into letting you charge stuff on her card!"
"Well, I wanted it, so I asked Mom to let me use her card."
"No, it doesn't work that way! If you want to charge something, you ask me for your card, and then Sister M. or I will determine if it's something you need. If not, you go without, you don't act sneaky and charge it to Grandma's card behind our backs, then tell her to deduct it from her rent!"
"It wasn't something I needed, it was something I wanted! And don't tell me what to do! It's MY money and I'll spend it however I want to!" she argued. "Besides, I didn't feel like arguing with you about it!"
"I bet you don't because you know you did something you weren't supposed to! Since when does a 70-year-old woman, who has rarely ever worn make-up in the past to begin with, need to spend that much money on make-up? Especially with all the other make-up you already have in your bathroom! You are being deceitful, and you owe Grandma and me an apology!"
She never did apologize, and I had a stern talking-to with Grandma when we got home to not give Mom her credit card. Grandma is just as rebellious as Mom, though--all in the name of maintaining independence, of course--so my admonition probably went unheeded. Turns out, the make-up was a "subscription deal," and Grandma got upset when the charge continued to show up on her Discover card statement for the next several months. Sister M. had intercepted two more deliveries the next day (which were addressed to Mom) and called the company to cancel the current order and any future deliveries, but it took months for Grandma to get the charges to stop. I refused to help her--I wanted Grandma to learn a lesson from going behind our backs to "help" Mom.
I had printed up several pages of scam information off the Internet, especially scams directed towards seniors, and shared it with Mom and Grandma in the days following. Every charity and solicitor who called the house, I would politely tell them we weren't interested in donating, and to add our number to the Do Not Call List, and went on the national registry and added our home phone number to cut down on the solicitations. Junk mail from religious organizations, food banks, Indian reservations, various missions, and so forth continued to fill the mailbox (she still supports World Vision and St. Jude on a monthly basis), but I simply burned them in the fire pit and didn't let Mom see them. I eventually started burning Grandma's junk mail too. My efforts have put a considerable dent in the amount of paper waste that arrives in our mailbox, but it has taken almost five years. Grandma would complain about the requests anyway, claiming she couldn't afford any donations, and yet a "receipt" or "thank you gift for your donation" would arrive in the mail. I was fighting a losing battle!
It's obvious that many loved ones who suffer from dementia or other mental health issues cannot properly discern what is legitimate and what is fraud--whether it's telemarketing, investing, sweepstakes, or even dishonest family members. That's not to say that every charity is illegitimate, but if Mom donated to everyone who asked for money, she wouldn't have enough money to pay her bills. As caregivers, it is important that we protect them from these piranhas by screening their phone calls and vetting their mail as much as possible. Protecting them may require obtaining Power of Attorney or Guardianship. If your Loved One lives at a different address than you, put in a change of address so that all their mail comes to you. Set up their bills on auto-pay, especially if they're skipping payments or paying twice because they forgot they already paid the bill, and gain control over their checkbook so that they can't write a check to every Tom, Dick, or Harry that asks for money. I've heard from many other caregivers that their Loved One was "talked into lending" lots of money to family members who had no intentions of paying them back. But even professional caregivers need to be watched--a former classmate discovered that the person his family hired to take care of their mother was stealing from her, and they took her to court and won!
So be careful out there! Unfortunately, your Loved One with dementia or mental illness probably can't understand the danger, so the best protection is prevention!
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Micro Managing Must Stop!
Journal entry dated 9/7/2012
As part of our moving to MD to take care of Mom and her attempts to make us feel welcome, she said I could clear out Dad's hunting
storage room in the basement to use as an art studio. Woo hoo! Brothers C. & M., Brother-in-Law J., and Nephew B. already took what they wanted of Dad's hunting stuff and tools when he died, and the room wasn't serving a purpose, so why not use it as a studio? Mom said, "Just clean it out and do what you want with it."
I had mentioned what I was going to do to Nephew B. (he and his pregnant girlfriend S. live in the basement and he's having his house built next door), and he had no reaction, nothing to say ... nothing. The next day, I was just about done clearing it out when B. got home and he looked around, saying, "Geez, what's the big rush?" Umm, rush? We've already lived here a month and I'm going crazy not being able to paint or draw! I said, "Mom said I could use this as my studio--I told you yesterday what I was going to do and you didn't object. I moved everything under the stairs but Brother C. (his father) told me not to touch the ammo, so I left it alone." B. turned and walked out. I didn't think anything of it. Besides, I was excited to have a space to myself where I could store all my art supplies.
When his girlfriend S. came home, she went straight to their bedroom and slammed the door. I was putting some paint cans away on the workshop wall and walked back to the studio when she came out and looked straight at me but said nothing. So I said cheerfully, "Hello! How are you?" "Oh, okay," she mumbled. Was that a hint of snarkiness I detected? Hmm, must be the baby hormones, I thought, or else she and B got into a fight--which Sister M. says they do a LOT. In fact, M. doesn't think they should even get married, IF they ever are, that is! As S. walked into their living room where B. was watching TV (the room is closed off by two separate doors), she said, "She's already got that room cleaned out!" She sounded mad, but I didn't understand why, or what the big deal was. It wasn't their room, it's shut off from the rest of the basement, and Mom told me I could. Was I not supposed to?
Mom says it's bad enough that they commandeered the spare bedroom and are using it for their storage (That's not included in his rent! Mom said. In fact, B. didn't even ask Mom if his girlfriend could move in in the first place. Same thing happened with his previous girlfriend. And he wasn't even giving Mom extra rent money to cover the increase in utilities, not to mention using the spare bedroom and a large portion of the workshop to store their stuff). When Mom got home from
fridge shopping, I asked her if I wasn't supposed to clear out the room because
B. was having a tantrum. I brought her downstairs to show her the new
studio and she was shocked (in a good way) at how different it looked. She said, "B. is NOT the boss! It's MY house, and MY room! I make the rules and
if he doesn't like it, tough $#!+!"
Oh my goodness! That's the
first time I have ever heard Mom cuss! I tried to shush her since they
were in the next room, but she said, "I don't care if they hear me! It's MY
HOUSE, not theirs! I told you you could use this room! I make the
rules, not them! Sorry, but I cuss when I get mad, like now. I'm just
sick of people telling me what to do!" I asked, "Does B. expect
me to wait until he gets his house built and they move out before I can start
painting? We're cooped up in that tiny guest room and there's not enough
room for my art supplies, so I need to be able to spread out." Mom
said, "No, you don't need to paint in your bedroom. And B is crazy
if he thinks you should wait. It's not his house, and it's not his
storage unit!" I took that as permission to carry on, so I did.
Later that evening, I got a text from
Sister M.: Please refrain from doing any clean-out or build-out or
whatever until B&S move out. Between the flood (from the new fridge
being installed, the leaking water line got their kitchen wet) and the hunting room, they're very upset.
Me: Sorry, Mom said I could use the
room as my art studio and I didn't know I needed their permission. All I
did was move the hunting room stuff to the space under the stairs. I told
B. about cleaning out the hunting room and he never said anything, so I had no
idea that it was an issue. Brother C. told me not to move Dad's
ammunition, so I left all that alone.
Sister M.: You didn't need their
permission, it's just that they already have privacy issues with Mom and
Grandma rolling down there whenever they feel like it. It just probably
could've waited until they moved out. S. is stressing out and they feel
like they are being forced out.
Me: Well, G&I are stressing out
too! We went from 1500+ sf to 150 sf. I have no place to do my art,
especially when it's raining or hot and buggy outside. I need to make
some money since G hasn't found a job yet. Mom is trying to do her best
to make us feel at home. I don't think it's realistic to expect us to
wait 4-6 months before using available space, especially when no one is using
it. I am respecting their space, knocking before I enter, and I even
offered to help clean up the flood mess but S. said she took care of it. I don't understand why they
can't come talk to me or G directly instead of dragging you into this anyway.
Sister M: Because Mom freaks out on
B. every time he tries to talk to her about this stuff. He doesn't feel
comfortable talking to her. The last time they "talked," she
said some very mean and hurtful things to him, so I don't blame him. As
we've discussed, she's mean when she's "up." It's more S. who
has issues (baby hormones, no doubt) and B. is trying to chill her out.
I'm just trying to keep the boat from rocking too much!
Me: I hear ya! But is he scared to talk to ME? or G? And yes, Mom CAN be mean when she's up. She
just informed us that we will be paying rent after we move into the basement,
and that I don't have to "tote" her everywhere--Grandma can drive
her. I think we all need to have a sit-down family chat to clear up some details.
Sister M.: I think B. was afraid
you'd react like Mom does. I told him I was sure you would honor any
privacy requests. Yes, we should have a family chat, especially since I
made it very clear to her that you would NOT be paying rent! How did her
dr's appointment go?
Me: Absolutely I would respect
privacy! I'm the LAST person he needs to be afraid of! Mom didn't
appreciate that we decided all this about her care and me and G moving in
without consulting her. And I didn't get to ask Dr. L. all my questions
because she jumped in and defended herself about everything. He acted
rushed and we already had to wait 2 hours. He wants her to get an MRI to
make sure she hasn't had any "tiny strokes" that are causing
the dizziness.
Sister M.: Okay, thanks. Keep me posted.
Mom was livid that Sister M. was dragged
into our discussion about the hunting-room-come-studio issue, but she told me that I
could continue renovating. She said, "It's none of her business what
goes on over here!" Which is true, but we all know that Sister M.
has to be in control. She is the Micro Managing Queen--over her life, her husband's life, her kids' lives, EVERYONE's lives! Even if it doesn't concern her! And if you do something against her wishes, she holds a grudge against you and doesn't speak to you for months, or even years!
Sister M.'s attempts to control my life is part of the reason why I moved to Colorado in 1996--she kept wanting to make decisions for me, decisions that didn't concern her, and when I didn't comply, she'd have a fit, then badmouth me to the rest of the family! She's not happy unless she's micro-managing everyone's lives! But these are decisions that don't concern her! I don't understand why B. had to drag her into this anyway! Why is a grown man a tattle tail? And Mom "hurt his feelings"? Boo hoo hoo! He needs to grow some! I've had enough of her trying to control my life, and Mom's house, and what goes on inside it doesn't concern her, so why drag her into it?
I can tell you one thing, if I'm going to be Mom's caregiver, I can't have Sister M. hanging over my shoulder, trying to tell me what I can and can't do. If this was a team effort and she was helping me on a regular basis, that would be a different story. If she wanted to maintain all this control, why didn't SHE offer to be Mom's caregiver? She's tried to control me ever since I was in high school, and I'm 45 now! This micro managing must stop!
The Ugly Side of Bipolar Disorder
Journal Entry dated September 7, 2012
Mom's official diagnosis is "Bipolar Disorder - Mixed State," and I'm still trying to get the hang of it. The way Dr. L. has me change Mom's doses depending on what phase she's in (manic or depressive) is confusing. How is anything supposed to stabilize if I'm constantly changing her medication? Oh well, I guess he knows what he's doing--he's the doctor, after all. We had to wait two hours to see him on 9/5, and then he acted like he was rushed so I felt like I couldn't ask him everything. Why does he insist on overbooking himself so much! Whenever I asked him a question, Mom would become defensive and try to answer, not even giving him a chance to answer me. I told him she's rebellious and mean--I don't like talking about her like that right in front of her, but she needs to know so that she can learn to chill out.
I brought up the subject of admitting Mom to the hospital for a "de-tox" because my siblings asked me to check into it. He said we can't just stop her meds cold turkey. Why not? She'd be in a hospital where they could monitor her behavior. It just seems like she's on way too many prescriptions. He attributed Mom's lack of success to her being inconsistent with taking her meds, but now that I'm here, we should have a better success rate. She was in a "hyper-manic" state during the appointment, so he said to increase her Klonopin to 3 tablets to help calm her down.
I didn't get to ask all my questions, but I did get enough of them answered. Because Dr. L. is a general practitioner, I feel like I need to find a psychiatrist for Mom to supervise her psychotropic meds. Sister M. said that she has tried bringing Mom to several different psychiatrists, but Mom hasn't liked any of them, so she gave up. Nice.
Mom is still spending money like crazy--apparently a classic symptom of BPD! She and Grandma went to Sears yesterday (they didn't want me to go--probably because she didn't want me telling her how to spend her money!) to get a different refrigerator (the new one was delivered last week but it doesn't have a deli drawer, so Mom wants to exchange it). They were gone for HOURS! When they got back, they had been to Family Christian Bookstore, Kohl's, and the Dollar Store. I couldn't believe all the JUNK she bought! Bags and bags of "Christmas presents": DVDs, coffee mugs, books, CDs, etc., that she'll forget about before Christmas even arrives! Then lots of toys for Sister N's kids that they probably won't use (I think Mom has forgotten their ages because she bought "infant" toys, not toddler and older toys). She bought $200-worth of clothes for B&S's baby--she never spent that much money on her own kids or grandkids before! But I guess this is her first great-grandchild, so it's okay if she splurges? Besides, it's her money, she's going to spend it on whatever she wants!
Sister M. warned me of Mom's shopping sprees. She said she would just let her buy what she wanted, then she'd sneak into the house and remove all the new stuff (usually still in bags with the receipts) and return it to the stores and Mom was none-the-wiser because she had forgotten what she bought! On previous shopping trips, any time I tried to tell Mom that she didn't need something, she'd say, "Don't tell me what to spend my money on!", or "Don't tell me what to do!", or "It's MY money!", or "You're not my mother!", or "I know I don't NEED it, I WANT it!" and buy it anyway. But Sister M. was right--Mom would soon forget about her purchases, so I would gather them in the bags along with the receipts and take them back to the store and have her credit card refunded.
Last week we went to CostCo, and every time she saw something she liked, she just threw it in the cart. I saw a winter coat that I really liked and she offered to buy it as a Christmas present, but I told her No. She overloaded her cart so much that she didn't have enough cash to pay for everything, so I ended up using my debit card to cover her purchases. She acts like she has all kinds of money, but she doesn't! And her $7K in property taxes is due. Mom said, "I don't know where the money is gonna come from, but I'm sure Sister M. has all that covered since she handles my bills!" (Mom couldn't handle paying her bills anymore so Sister M. took over after Dad died in 2007.)
Another thing is, I've noticed Mom repeats herself a lot. She'll tell you a story she just told you a day or two ago. When I give her her medication, she asks why she only has one green and one white pill--how can she notice the change in her medicine but can't remember that she told you the same story a couple days ago? Or forgets about all the junk she just bought?
Mom is also designating who gets what when she dies. Someone told Grandma to start putting her kids' names on the stuff she wants them to get when she dies, so now Mom is doing that with her jewelry. She said, "You'd be surprised how everyone will fight over your stuff after you're gone. This way, if I put names on everything, no one can fight over it." I can only imagine the hundreds of dollars she has spent on all her costume jewelry. Her diamond tennis bracelets alone are worth more than $10K!
Shortly after Dad died, Mom came out to visit me in Colorado (this was before G and I married). I had given her a pair of my aquamarine earrings because she liked the color so much, only to find out that she didn't wear them anymore so she gave them back to me, along with an aqua glass bracelet I bought her while she was there. She had a beautiful aquamarine bracelet that I fawned over, saying it was a perfect match to my earrings and necklace, so she told me to take it. I resisted, saying, "I can't accept that! Sister M. would have a fit!" "It's MY jewelry and I'll give it to who I want!" She also gave me two rings and another bracelet, so I gratefully accepted them and thanked her profusely.
She's been talking about getting rid of her other possessions too. "I can't leave all this mess for my kids to deal with when I die!" Her attic is full of Rubbermaid bins, crammed with clothes and shoes she no longer wears--many aren't even her size! What was she thinking? Probably that it was too good a sale to pass up! Ha! Ha! There are boxes and boxes of Christmas, Valentines, Halloween, and Thanksgiving decorations, etc., that have never been used. It's crazy how much junk is in the attic and in the basement workshop. Again, all signs of BPD.
She talks about dying a lot. Not in the sense that she's suicidal, but that she wants to "have her affairs in order" before she goes. Her Last Will & Testament and Living Will are already drawn up, so that's good. She has also pre-paid for her funeral at the same funeral home that handled Dad's. Last night, Mom was telling Husband G. that each of her kids gets "3 free acres" of her property to do what they want with it. Sister M. and her Husband J. got just under 4 acres and built their house on it next door to Mom. G was excited--I was not! There was no way I could live next door to Sister M.! Brother M. has said before, "You couldn't PAY me to live next door to Sister M.!" Mom explained, "You didn't know about your free 3 acres because you've been living in Colorado, but all my kids get 3 free acres. But not the grandkids--if they want any land, they have to buy it! But I'll give them a good deal! Like Grandson B's property--he got a really good deal on his! Your father wanted to charge him more, but I convinced him to charge less."
G. is entertaining the idea of staying in MD even after Mom passes, but there's no way I'm not returning to my beloved Colorado! G. said, "But what if we can find really good jobs here and don't want to move back to CO?" Nope, I can't imagine! I can't stand the heat and humidity of the east coast, the DMV traffic, the bugs, no thanks! Mom interrupted, "Actually, I think you and G. should get THIS house!" I scoffed, "Yeah, Mom, that will really go over well with my siblings!" She said, "Well why not? The house and property are paid off, you just have to pay property taxes. Besides, your father wants the house to stay in the family, so why can't I gift it to you?" I argued, "No, Mom, my siblings would never approve, nor could we afford it." She said, "I don't see why they wouldn't! We'll have to figure out a way to make it happen!"
It's stuff like this that concerns me about Mom. Sister M. guessed she only had about "two years left," but I don't see her leaving that soon. However, people sometimes "know" when they're about to die, so they start getting rid of all their stuff, and if that's any indication in Mom's case, I'd say Sister M. might be on to something (that she'll be gone in two years).
I mention all this as examples of Mom's behavior--how volatile she can get, how complacent, etc. Not because I'm "tattling" on her, but to give whomever reads this journal a better idea of the big picture--all the dynamics involved with Mom's care.
She's scared. She doesn't like being "sick." She abhors being told what to do, and lashes out as her way to maintain her independence. She believes that we kids are "ganging up on her," even though I've explained numerous times that ALL of us have her safety and well being as our number one priority. She keeps saying, "I know," but I don't really think she does.
Mom's official diagnosis is "Bipolar Disorder - Mixed State," and I'm still trying to get the hang of it. The way Dr. L. has me change Mom's doses depending on what phase she's in (manic or depressive) is confusing. How is anything supposed to stabilize if I'm constantly changing her medication? Oh well, I guess he knows what he's doing--he's the doctor, after all. We had to wait two hours to see him on 9/5, and then he acted like he was rushed so I felt like I couldn't ask him everything. Why does he insist on overbooking himself so much! Whenever I asked him a question, Mom would become defensive and try to answer, not even giving him a chance to answer me. I told him she's rebellious and mean--I don't like talking about her like that right in front of her, but she needs to know so that she can learn to chill out.
I brought up the subject of admitting Mom to the hospital for a "de-tox" because my siblings asked me to check into it. He said we can't just stop her meds cold turkey. Why not? She'd be in a hospital where they could monitor her behavior. It just seems like she's on way too many prescriptions. He attributed Mom's lack of success to her being inconsistent with taking her meds, but now that I'm here, we should have a better success rate. She was in a "hyper-manic" state during the appointment, so he said to increase her Klonopin to 3 tablets to help calm her down.
I didn't get to ask all my questions, but I did get enough of them answered. Because Dr. L. is a general practitioner, I feel like I need to find a psychiatrist for Mom to supervise her psychotropic meds. Sister M. said that she has tried bringing Mom to several different psychiatrists, but Mom hasn't liked any of them, so she gave up. Nice.
Mom is still spending money like crazy--apparently a classic symptom of BPD! She and Grandma went to Sears yesterday (they didn't want me to go--probably because she didn't want me telling her how to spend her money!) to get a different refrigerator (the new one was delivered last week but it doesn't have a deli drawer, so Mom wants to exchange it). They were gone for HOURS! When they got back, they had been to Family Christian Bookstore, Kohl's, and the Dollar Store. I couldn't believe all the JUNK she bought! Bags and bags of "Christmas presents": DVDs, coffee mugs, books, CDs, etc., that she'll forget about before Christmas even arrives! Then lots of toys for Sister N's kids that they probably won't use (I think Mom has forgotten their ages because she bought "infant" toys, not toddler and older toys). She bought $200-worth of clothes for B&S's baby--she never spent that much money on her own kids or grandkids before! But I guess this is her first great-grandchild, so it's okay if she splurges? Besides, it's her money, she's going to spend it on whatever she wants!
Sister M. warned me of Mom's shopping sprees. She said she would just let her buy what she wanted, then she'd sneak into the house and remove all the new stuff (usually still in bags with the receipts) and return it to the stores and Mom was none-the-wiser because she had forgotten what she bought! On previous shopping trips, any time I tried to tell Mom that she didn't need something, she'd say, "Don't tell me what to spend my money on!", or "Don't tell me what to do!", or "It's MY money!", or "You're not my mother!", or "I know I don't NEED it, I WANT it!" and buy it anyway. But Sister M. was right--Mom would soon forget about her purchases, so I would gather them in the bags along with the receipts and take them back to the store and have her credit card refunded.
Last week we went to CostCo, and every time she saw something she liked, she just threw it in the cart. I saw a winter coat that I really liked and she offered to buy it as a Christmas present, but I told her No. She overloaded her cart so much that she didn't have enough cash to pay for everything, so I ended up using my debit card to cover her purchases. She acts like she has all kinds of money, but she doesn't! And her $7K in property taxes is due. Mom said, "I don't know where the money is gonna come from, but I'm sure Sister M. has all that covered since she handles my bills!" (Mom couldn't handle paying her bills anymore so Sister M. took over after Dad died in 2007.)
Another thing is, I've noticed Mom repeats herself a lot. She'll tell you a story she just told you a day or two ago. When I give her her medication, she asks why she only has one green and one white pill--how can she notice the change in her medicine but can't remember that she told you the same story a couple days ago? Or forgets about all the junk she just bought?
Mom is also designating who gets what when she dies. Someone told Grandma to start putting her kids' names on the stuff she wants them to get when she dies, so now Mom is doing that with her jewelry. She said, "You'd be surprised how everyone will fight over your stuff after you're gone. This way, if I put names on everything, no one can fight over it." I can only imagine the hundreds of dollars she has spent on all her costume jewelry. Her diamond tennis bracelets alone are worth more than $10K!
Shortly after Dad died, Mom came out to visit me in Colorado (this was before G and I married). I had given her a pair of my aquamarine earrings because she liked the color so much, only to find out that she didn't wear them anymore so she gave them back to me, along with an aqua glass bracelet I bought her while she was there. She had a beautiful aquamarine bracelet that I fawned over, saying it was a perfect match to my earrings and necklace, so she told me to take it. I resisted, saying, "I can't accept that! Sister M. would have a fit!" "It's MY jewelry and I'll give it to who I want!" She also gave me two rings and another bracelet, so I gratefully accepted them and thanked her profusely.
She's been talking about getting rid of her other possessions too. "I can't leave all this mess for my kids to deal with when I die!" Her attic is full of Rubbermaid bins, crammed with clothes and shoes she no longer wears--many aren't even her size! What was she thinking? Probably that it was too good a sale to pass up! Ha! Ha! There are boxes and boxes of Christmas, Valentines, Halloween, and Thanksgiving decorations, etc., that have never been used. It's crazy how much junk is in the attic and in the basement workshop. Again, all signs of BPD.
She talks about dying a lot. Not in the sense that she's suicidal, but that she wants to "have her affairs in order" before she goes. Her Last Will & Testament and Living Will are already drawn up, so that's good. She has also pre-paid for her funeral at the same funeral home that handled Dad's. Last night, Mom was telling Husband G. that each of her kids gets "3 free acres" of her property to do what they want with it. Sister M. and her Husband J. got just under 4 acres and built their house on it next door to Mom. G was excited--I was not! There was no way I could live next door to Sister M.! Brother M. has said before, "You couldn't PAY me to live next door to Sister M.!" Mom explained, "You didn't know about your free 3 acres because you've been living in Colorado, but all my kids get 3 free acres. But not the grandkids--if they want any land, they have to buy it! But I'll give them a good deal! Like Grandson B's property--he got a really good deal on his! Your father wanted to charge him more, but I convinced him to charge less."
G. is entertaining the idea of staying in MD even after Mom passes, but there's no way I'm not returning to my beloved Colorado! G. said, "But what if we can find really good jobs here and don't want to move back to CO?" Nope, I can't imagine! I can't stand the heat and humidity of the east coast, the DMV traffic, the bugs, no thanks! Mom interrupted, "Actually, I think you and G. should get THIS house!" I scoffed, "Yeah, Mom, that will really go over well with my siblings!" She said, "Well why not? The house and property are paid off, you just have to pay property taxes. Besides, your father wants the house to stay in the family, so why can't I gift it to you?" I argued, "No, Mom, my siblings would never approve, nor could we afford it." She said, "I don't see why they wouldn't! We'll have to figure out a way to make it happen!"
It's stuff like this that concerns me about Mom. Sister M. guessed she only had about "two years left," but I don't see her leaving that soon. However, people sometimes "know" when they're about to die, so they start getting rid of all their stuff, and if that's any indication in Mom's case, I'd say Sister M. might be on to something (that she'll be gone in two years).
I mention all this as examples of Mom's behavior--how volatile she can get, how complacent, etc. Not because I'm "tattling" on her, but to give whomever reads this journal a better idea of the big picture--all the dynamics involved with Mom's care.
She's scared. She doesn't like being "sick." She abhors being told what to do, and lashes out as her way to maintain her independence. She believes that we kids are "ganging up on her," even though I've explained numerous times that ALL of us have her safety and well being as our number one priority. She keeps saying, "I know," but I don't really think she does.
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Mom's Major Meltdown
Journal entry dated September 2, 2012
Today is Brother C's birthday. Mom insisted on having a party for him, so she invited the family over for a steak dinner. I was tired the night before and didn't get a chance to bake Brother C's cake, so I had to do it after I got home from church. Mom had barged in on me in my bedroom (we locked the bedroom door every night after that!), demanding that I take her to Grandma's church. She had told Grandma she was going to church with her this morning and got upset that Grandma left without her. She INSISTED she had to attend her Mass, but I told her it was okay if she didn't make it, especially with how late she'd be. I offered her several solutions, but Mom was hysterical, so Husband G offered to take her while I got up to get ready for our church.
I suggested to Mom before she left to not wear her high heels, but she insisted. She had taken them off before she even got home. I had left out the flats that I suggested she wear, but she ignored me. By the time she got home, she was in full compliance of wearing the shoes I tried to give her before she left. But why listen to me? I don't know what I'm talking about! She's acting like a spoiled teenager!
Mom was very dizzy, weak, and confused when we got to church. I had to help her in and out of the car, up the stairs, get in and out of the pew, etc. When we got home, she was taking too long to change her clothes so I went to check on her. Company would be arriving later today and we hadn't even started dinner. She had changed into her floppy aqua hat, aqua blouse, and white shorts, and was attempting to put on aqua eye shadow (she's been on an aqua and orange kick lately). What a mess! "Here, I can't do this right, will you finish it?" she asked, handing me her compact. I fixed it as best as I could--it was way too dark. I should've started over but we didn't have time--she'll just have to look like a lady of the evening. She also had to wear lots of jewelry--how was she going to get dinner prepared with all those necklaces and bracelets getting in the way?
Grandma was stressing over getting the potatoes made. Stressing and worrying are what Grandma does best (that must be where Mom gets it)! Mom snapped at her more than once, causing Grandma to become even more upset. I still had to get the cake in the oven and no one had remembered to take the steaks out before we left for church. I was busy chopping vegetables for the tossed salad, being sure to set the tomatoes aside, as Brother C. was allergic to them.
It was chaos, to say the least! Mom was running from one project to the next, without completing any of them. On top of that, she was trying to paint her fingernails! How on earth was she going to prepare dinner if she had wet fingernail polish on her hands??? She got up to start another task, so I hid the nail polish instead of arguing with her--I felt like *I* was the crazy one with how she was bouncing around the kitchen! She would ask a question, we'd answer it, and within minutes, she'd forget and ask the same question, then want to argue about us already answering it! I was losing my mind and on the verge of tears! It was like I was running behind her with a small bucket, attempting to put out all these little fires in her wake.
She sat back down at the table again, looking for the fingernail polish. "You don't have time to paint your fingernails, Mom, there's too much to do to get ready."
"Don't tell me what to do! You are not my mother!" she barked. I was slack-jawed at the tone of her voice. Uncle S. stated, "She looks like she's slipped a few gears since the last time I saw her. She's a lot worse." I nodded in agreement.
"Why isn't dinner ready?" "Where's Brother C?" "Why aren't the steaks thawed?" "Where's all the ice?" Mom was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. I thought I was going to lose it before everyone arrived (Uncle S was really early). When Sister M. arrived, I brought her into our bedroom for a quick conversation about how Mom was acting--the chaos and utter craziness! I apologized for not understanding how bad it was, yet I was glad to be there to relieve her of the sole burden of caring for Mom. I broke down in tears and she hugged me. I was sorry I didn't give her more credit, and felt better for being able to hash things out before facing the family. She had confided in me some issues she was having with her husband J., telling me of his pain pill addiction and how he stole Dad's pain pills while Dad was dying. I was shocked! "Yeah, he's been in rehab twice. I told him 'three strikes and he's out,' so he better straighten himself up! So now you can see why I couldn't really deal with Mom on top of what I'm dealing with at home!" I had no idea!
Back to the dinner chaos, Mom snapped at Grandma again about the au gratin potatoes not being ready, yet had an I-don't-give-a-rip attitude about the rest of the dinner preparations. She was getting mad about the steaks not being on the grill yet, and was still ranting about not being able to find her nail polish.
After dinner, and after things settled a bit, I excused myself to walk the dogs. As I returned to the house, Sister M's son N came outside and asked if I knew how to pick a lock--Mee Maw had locked herself in her bedroom and wouldn't answer the door! What??? I rushed inside and unleashed the dogs, then headed down the hallway.
By the time I got to her room, Sister M had found the key and picked the lock. She was standing next to Mom who was lying on her loveseat, chewing her out, saying something about "safety." "Don't you ever do this again! Next time we'll have to break down the door!" Sister M. reprimanded.
I knelt down next to Mom and immediately saw she was upset, on the verge of tears. "Mom, what's wrong?"
Sister M. hissed, "She locked herself in here and wouldn't answer the door!"
I turned back to Mom and spoke soothingly while stroking her hand, and Sister M. took it as her cue to leave. Apparently the stress of the day had gotten to her, and she "had to get away and get some rest." Empathetic, I soothed her and calmed her down.
"She's always being mean to me," she spoke of Sister M, "and treats me like a baby! I can't take it anymore!" Tears welled in her eyes, and my throat tightened as I choked back my own tears. My heart broke for Mom. Yes, Sister M. could be a B, she knew it. All of us siblings knew it! She is definitely not one to have or show sympathy for anyone and chewed Mom out for "being so stupid" (I had gotten a similar chewing out by Sister M. when I refused to put my baby up for adoption in 1991). I simply wanted to hear Mom out, find out what was bothering her, and try to make her feel better.
Mom poured her heart out to me--I felt privileged and honored that she could trust me enough to tell me everything that was bothering her, from how Sister M. took away her car keys after her accident to how her children decided--without her input--that she needed a full time, live-in caregiver (Sister M. said she kept Mom abreast of our discussions, although Mom was "down" at the time and couldn't really make any decisions on her own. I don't know if she was given a chance to voice her opinion, and I'm embarrassed to say I didn't call her to find out for myself.). I lovingly explained to her that we were all just scared for her--we just wanted to keep her safe and to protect her. "Well, Sister M sure has a funny way of showing it!" she cried. "Mom, your safety is our number one priority--Sister M means well, even if she can't show it in a loving manner. I'm sorry."
Mom cried and shared a lot over the next 15 minutes or so. Sister M. really upsets her. I prayed over Mom for several minutes, and prayed over Sister M., that she would learn patience, empathy, compassion, and kindness for our mother. And for others as well.
Mom began to feel better, then had to show me all the new "stuff" she bought when she and Grandma went shopping the other day. Oh great--just what she needs--more clothes! She already has an entire walk-in closet full of clothes she doesn't wear, plus the two closets in the guest bedrooms are full of her clothes, most don't fit and many still have tags on them! Sister M. confided that on many occasions, she had found the receipts and returned all the clothes and Mom was none the wiser. I guess that was a good way to "pick our battles" so that we wouldn't have to argue with Mom in the store. It worked like a charm and I did it many times thereafter!
Eventually, Mom felt better and wanted to re-join the party. A good 45 minutes had lapsed, and everyone had cleaned the kitchen and cut the cake. The birthday boy had already left and others followed. Mom was much calmer the rest of the evening. She was so worn out that she fell asleep on the couch, and I was never so happy to hug my pillow when I laid down to go to sleep. I was exhausted!
I learned several important lessons that day: Mom's bipolar disorder requires lots of structure and patience. I can't lose my cool when dealing with her, because her emotions only ratchet up several notches as she resists any and all instruction or advice. A soft voice goes a long way in calming her down, and she can't handle too much chaos at a time. If she needs to escape a high-sensory environment, she should be allowed to and not be shamed for it, nor have to explain herself. A simple, "I need some alone time" should suffice in the future. Most importantly, based on our personalities, I believe I am the best fit as a caregiver among all the siblings. I feel I have the most patience, sympathy, and compassion to handle Mom's ups and downs.
Sometimes being a Quiet Caregiver has its advantages.
Today is Brother C's birthday. Mom insisted on having a party for him, so she invited the family over for a steak dinner. I was tired the night before and didn't get a chance to bake Brother C's cake, so I had to do it after I got home from church. Mom had barged in on me in my bedroom (we locked the bedroom door every night after that!), demanding that I take her to Grandma's church. She had told Grandma she was going to church with her this morning and got upset that Grandma left without her. She INSISTED she had to attend her Mass, but I told her it was okay if she didn't make it, especially with how late she'd be. I offered her several solutions, but Mom was hysterical, so Husband G offered to take her while I got up to get ready for our church.
I suggested to Mom before she left to not wear her high heels, but she insisted. She had taken them off before she even got home. I had left out the flats that I suggested she wear, but she ignored me. By the time she got home, she was in full compliance of wearing the shoes I tried to give her before she left. But why listen to me? I don't know what I'm talking about! She's acting like a spoiled teenager!
Mom was very dizzy, weak, and confused when we got to church. I had to help her in and out of the car, up the stairs, get in and out of the pew, etc. When we got home, she was taking too long to change her clothes so I went to check on her. Company would be arriving later today and we hadn't even started dinner. She had changed into her floppy aqua hat, aqua blouse, and white shorts, and was attempting to put on aqua eye shadow (she's been on an aqua and orange kick lately). What a mess! "Here, I can't do this right, will you finish it?" she asked, handing me her compact. I fixed it as best as I could--it was way too dark. I should've started over but we didn't have time--she'll just have to look like a lady of the evening. She also had to wear lots of jewelry--how was she going to get dinner prepared with all those necklaces and bracelets getting in the way?
Grandma was stressing over getting the potatoes made. Stressing and worrying are what Grandma does best (that must be where Mom gets it)! Mom snapped at her more than once, causing Grandma to become even more upset. I still had to get the cake in the oven and no one had remembered to take the steaks out before we left for church. I was busy chopping vegetables for the tossed salad, being sure to set the tomatoes aside, as Brother C. was allergic to them.
It was chaos, to say the least! Mom was running from one project to the next, without completing any of them. On top of that, she was trying to paint her fingernails! How on earth was she going to prepare dinner if she had wet fingernail polish on her hands??? She got up to start another task, so I hid the nail polish instead of arguing with her--I felt like *I* was the crazy one with how she was bouncing around the kitchen! She would ask a question, we'd answer it, and within minutes, she'd forget and ask the same question, then want to argue about us already answering it! I was losing my mind and on the verge of tears! It was like I was running behind her with a small bucket, attempting to put out all these little fires in her wake.
She sat back down at the table again, looking for the fingernail polish. "You don't have time to paint your fingernails, Mom, there's too much to do to get ready."
"Don't tell me what to do! You are not my mother!" she barked. I was slack-jawed at the tone of her voice. Uncle S. stated, "She looks like she's slipped a few gears since the last time I saw her. She's a lot worse." I nodded in agreement.
"Why isn't dinner ready?" "Where's Brother C?" "Why aren't the steaks thawed?" "Where's all the ice?" Mom was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. I thought I was going to lose it before everyone arrived (Uncle S was really early). When Sister M. arrived, I brought her into our bedroom for a quick conversation about how Mom was acting--the chaos and utter craziness! I apologized for not understanding how bad it was, yet I was glad to be there to relieve her of the sole burden of caring for Mom. I broke down in tears and she hugged me. I was sorry I didn't give her more credit, and felt better for being able to hash things out before facing the family. She had confided in me some issues she was having with her husband J., telling me of his pain pill addiction and how he stole Dad's pain pills while Dad was dying. I was shocked! "Yeah, he's been in rehab twice. I told him 'three strikes and he's out,' so he better straighten himself up! So now you can see why I couldn't really deal with Mom on top of what I'm dealing with at home!" I had no idea!
Back to the dinner chaos, Mom snapped at Grandma again about the au gratin potatoes not being ready, yet had an I-don't-give-a-rip attitude about the rest of the dinner preparations. She was getting mad about the steaks not being on the grill yet, and was still ranting about not being able to find her nail polish.
After dinner, and after things settled a bit, I excused myself to walk the dogs. As I returned to the house, Sister M's son N came outside and asked if I knew how to pick a lock--Mee Maw had locked herself in her bedroom and wouldn't answer the door! What??? I rushed inside and unleashed the dogs, then headed down the hallway.
By the time I got to her room, Sister M had found the key and picked the lock. She was standing next to Mom who was lying on her loveseat, chewing her out, saying something about "safety." "Don't you ever do this again! Next time we'll have to break down the door!" Sister M. reprimanded.
I knelt down next to Mom and immediately saw she was upset, on the verge of tears. "Mom, what's wrong?"
Sister M. hissed, "She locked herself in here and wouldn't answer the door!"
I turned back to Mom and spoke soothingly while stroking her hand, and Sister M. took it as her cue to leave. Apparently the stress of the day had gotten to her, and she "had to get away and get some rest." Empathetic, I soothed her and calmed her down.
"She's always being mean to me," she spoke of Sister M, "and treats me like a baby! I can't take it anymore!" Tears welled in her eyes, and my throat tightened as I choked back my own tears. My heart broke for Mom. Yes, Sister M. could be a B, she knew it. All of us siblings knew it! She is definitely not one to have or show sympathy for anyone and chewed Mom out for "being so stupid" (I had gotten a similar chewing out by Sister M. when I refused to put my baby up for adoption in 1991). I simply wanted to hear Mom out, find out what was bothering her, and try to make her feel better.
Mom poured her heart out to me--I felt privileged and honored that she could trust me enough to tell me everything that was bothering her, from how Sister M. took away her car keys after her accident to how her children decided--without her input--that she needed a full time, live-in caregiver (Sister M. said she kept Mom abreast of our discussions, although Mom was "down" at the time and couldn't really make any decisions on her own. I don't know if she was given a chance to voice her opinion, and I'm embarrassed to say I didn't call her to find out for myself.). I lovingly explained to her that we were all just scared for her--we just wanted to keep her safe and to protect her. "Well, Sister M sure has a funny way of showing it!" she cried. "Mom, your safety is our number one priority--Sister M means well, even if she can't show it in a loving manner. I'm sorry."
Mom cried and shared a lot over the next 15 minutes or so. Sister M. really upsets her. I prayed over Mom for several minutes, and prayed over Sister M., that she would learn patience, empathy, compassion, and kindness for our mother. And for others as well.
Mom began to feel better, then had to show me all the new "stuff" she bought when she and Grandma went shopping the other day. Oh great--just what she needs--more clothes! She already has an entire walk-in closet full of clothes she doesn't wear, plus the two closets in the guest bedrooms are full of her clothes, most don't fit and many still have tags on them! Sister M. confided that on many occasions, she had found the receipts and returned all the clothes and Mom was none the wiser. I guess that was a good way to "pick our battles" so that we wouldn't have to argue with Mom in the store. It worked like a charm and I did it many times thereafter!
Eventually, Mom felt better and wanted to re-join the party. A good 45 minutes had lapsed, and everyone had cleaned the kitchen and cut the cake. The birthday boy had already left and others followed. Mom was much calmer the rest of the evening. She was so worn out that she fell asleep on the couch, and I was never so happy to hug my pillow when I laid down to go to sleep. I was exhausted!
I learned several important lessons that day: Mom's bipolar disorder requires lots of structure and patience. I can't lose my cool when dealing with her, because her emotions only ratchet up several notches as she resists any and all instruction or advice. A soft voice goes a long way in calming her down, and she can't handle too much chaos at a time. If she needs to escape a high-sensory environment, she should be allowed to and not be shamed for it, nor have to explain herself. A simple, "I need some alone time" should suffice in the future. Most importantly, based on our personalities, I believe I am the best fit as a caregiver among all the siblings. I feel I have the most patience, sympathy, and compassion to handle Mom's ups and downs.
Sometimes being a Quiet Caregiver has its advantages.
Getting to Re-Know Mom
Six weeks after learning of an accident my mother was in with her late husband's truck, my Husband G and I arrived in Maryland to be her full time caregivers. Initially, I was only aware of her Bipolar Disorder, but after living with her for several months, I began to suspect she had dementia as well, although her general practitioner at the time insisted she didn't have it. My Sister M had mentioned that Mom was showing signs of confusion and memory lapses, but didn't seek an official diagnosis for her.
I had moved to Colorado in 1996, to end an unhealthy relationship with my children's father, so I didn't get to visit Mom on a regular basis. I was also considered the "black sheep" of the family, moving out at the tender age of 18 because my parents "didn't understand me." It was because of this early tension as a teenager and young adult that my mother and I didn't share a close bond. In fact, part of the reason I moved to Colorado was to get out from under my mother's thumb and my Sister M's control and constant criticism. She didn't like that I made my own decisions, choices that didn't concern her in the least, so it was better that I lived 2/3 of the country away from all of them so that I could live my own life. Because of my disagreements with Mom, there would be months at a time when we didn't speak. I can count on one hand the number of times my parents visited me during the 16+ years I lived in Colorado. So when I moved back in with her, it was like getting to know her all over again.
Mom's Bipolar Disorder (BPD) had been diagnosed several years prior. I had gotten the story through Mom, who was in denial about her mental health. I imagine her boss at work suspected something was wrong, as Mom accused them of "being against her" and trying to "force her into retirement." Maybe they suspected something and tried to talk to Mom about it, but she didn't want to admit that anything was amiss. The way it all came about, Mom had been at work and broken her ankle. Being in a cast for 6 weeks, she was forced to stay at home, on crutches. The day she went back to work, she broke her OTHER ankle, and was off work for ANOTHER 6 weeks! During that time, at home for 12 straight weeks with nothing to do, she started going through some old paperwork. She discovered that Dad's insurance coverage dwindled after his retirement, along with his pension, so she started worrying incessantly about their finances. She thinks this is when her downward spiral began. She became so obsessed with their finances that she fell into a deep, dark depression, unable to pull herself out of it. Regardless of if the depression was a result of the retirement or vice versa, Mom could not shake herself of the darkness that enveloped her entire world.
Eventually, she started to feel better. Much better. So good, in fact, that she would go on shopping sprees and spend hundreds, even thousands, in one day! Mom and Dad rarely, if ever, argued about anything during their almost 45 years of marriage before he died of cancer in 2007, but I guarantee Dad hit the ceiling when the Discover bill arrived in the mail! He took precautions and, unbeknownst to Mom (or she forgot), opened a separate checking account where he deposited his paychecks from his part time job at American University and all his early inheritance money from his parents. He had to "protect himself" is how the story went (Mom said he was "selfish and didn't want to share his money." She, on the other hand, used her money from the sale of Grandma's house--an early inheritance--to get their new driveway paved). More on that in a later post .... Anyway, she would go through these phases of depression and mania, nearly driving Dad (and my local siblings) up the wall! One day, my Sister M came across an article in a magazine about bipolar disorder and showed it to Mom, "This is what you have." Mom later shared the article with her doctor, and the diagnosis became official. She was started on numerous prescriptions to treat it, but he wasn't a psychiatrist and didn't know what he was doing, so Mom suffered as a result.
The first couple of weeks after arriving in Maryland, I spent observing Mom and taking notes in a "health journal." The day after Husband G and I arrived, the three of us drove to Vermont to celebrate some dear friends' 50th wedding anniversary. Mom did okay the first day, but the second day, she "went down," our mom-speak to say she entered the depression phase of her BPD (if she was in her manic phase, we said she was "up"). She stayed in her room at the bed & breakfast with the curtains drawn, refusing to join us for a cookout on the lake or for meals in the common dining room. I checked on her often, helpless not knowing what to do or how to help her. She assured me this was "normal" for her.
Her general practitioner at the time, Dr. L., had her on a regimen of Klonopin, Olanzapine, and Prozac, among other psychotropic drugs, which I was to change the doses depending on where she was in her manic and depressive phases. It was difficult to keep up with the changes in her meds, but I did my best. I referred to a sheet of paper that Sister M had written up for me (I'll have to find it and update later). I felt like I'd never get the hang of all these medications (13 total), so for Mom to be able to keep up with them was expecting way too much, especially in her mental condition! No wonder she crashed Dad's truck!
Mom was considered a "rapid cycler" in her BPD: she would go up (mania) and down (depression) every 4-6 weeks, give or take a week or two. I charted her cycles on a calendar using yellow and blue colored pencils, and eventually I could predict when she would go up and down within a day or two using this chart and observing her behavior. During her down phases, she would stay in her bedroom, keep the blinds drawn, and either sleep or watch television. Her appetite waned and she would barely eat anything during the first week. After about the second week, she would start to eat again, but not much. She had put on about 30 lbs. since her diagnosis and it bothered her a lot, especially because she maintained a svelte 130-lb. figure and jogged seven days a week before her ankle injuries. She refused phone calls and visitors during her down phase, and regardless of how many messages one left, she would not return their calls. She wanted nothing to do with any socializing and refused to even go to church.
During her manic phases, she was a completely different person! She became a scatterbrained chatterbox, bouncing from one unfinished project to the next! Brother M nicknamed her "Chatty Cathy" during these phases, as she would call everyone in her address book and talk for hours on the phone! She delivered Meals on Wheels with Grandma (this was before Husband G and I arrived), volunteered at the church and at Sister M's school, and helped her neighbors. She would tell strangers at the bank and grocery store that she had BPD, and as a result of having no social filter, she asked them personal questions or shared inappropriate details about herself. It was embarrassing!
Within the first month of arriving, Mom was having trouble keeping steady on her feet. She had to hold onto a shopping cart whenever we were in the store. Bruises and scratches would appear on her arms and legs, but she had no idea where they came from. She would get belligerent if I suggested she needed to hold onto me if she was dizzy, thinking she was "fine" and could "do it herself." Her stubbornness knew no bounds!
On August 31, 2012, I entered the following in her health journal:
The subject of driving came up. Mom said, "Oh yeah, I need you to give me the car keys because I'm driving to church on Sunday."
I was a bit confused. Didn't she remember she was just in a car accident and wasn't allowed to drive anymore? The reason Husband G and I were there was for me to be her chauffeur. "Mom, I can't give you the keys, remember your truck accident?"
"I don't care! That was a long time ago! I'm gonna drive!"
I looked at my husband--I think we were both in shock at her level of belligerence! She was getting upset.
"Mom, I'm sorry, but I can't give you the keys. That's why I'm here."
"I CAN drive! Why won't you give me the keys?"
"Because Sister M told me to take them away. She said I can't let you drive under any circumstances and all of us siblings agree."
"I CAN drive, and I'm gonna PROVE it!"
"Okay, Mom, but only after Dr. L. gives you a Clean Bill of Health in writing, and you pass a driving test at the DMV."
"Okay, you watch! I'm gonna drive again!"
Grandma was no help in this situation. All of the siblings agreed that for Mom's safety, she was NOT to drive again, but Grandma kept putting a bug in Mom's ear, "Don't let them take away your driving freedom!" We really need to get Grandma on board with the safety plan before she sabotages all our hard work!
Mom's dizziness and mobility have become an issue too. She sat on the floor with the dogs and couldn't get up by herself. I tried to lift her by myself but couldn't (she weighs around 165 lbs.). I started to panic, but calmed down and directed her onto all fours, then told her to crawl over to the couch where she could pull herself up and I could help her. It took several minutes, but we got her up!
Minutes later, I was in my bedroom when I heard Mom yelling for me! I dashed into her bathroom and found her on the shower floor! She had fallen and couldn't get up! She was wet and slippery and it was difficult to get a good hold on her. I suggested I call Husband G in from cutting the grass to help, but she refused. I turned off the shower, laid a towel under her so she could get a better grip on the tile floor, I told her to grip the handicap rail, then I put my arms under her armpits and locked my fists across her chest. Between her pulling on the bar and me pulling her up, she was finally able to stand. Her legs were really shaky so I toweled her off, rubbed body lotion on her, and helped her get dressed. She then left with Grandma to go shopping.
I was so overwhelmed by how out-of-sorts Mom was! Who knows how long she's been like this? I can't imagine she had many falls before now, otherwise, how would she have gotten up? Grandma is too weak to be able to help, and Nephew B is hardly around. She's very confused, forgetful, and scatterbrained. She'll start a project, move onto another one, and leave the first project uncompleted. When she's up, she's always talking, talking, talking! I don't know how much of this talking I can handle! I have to escape to my room sometimes. Luckily, Husband G is a talker, so they talk a lot in the mornings.
With the whole argument over driving and Mom's resistance to help, as well as being in denial about her condition, I told Husband G that I needed to talk to someone. He suggested Sister M. "No, I need someone understanding and compassionate." I called Sister N instead. She's just what the doctor ordered! Sister N was very understanding, compassionate, sympathetic, and concerned for me and Mom. I put her on speaker phone so Husband G and I could talk to her. Sister N helped me understand that G and I are the "bosses," we need to make decisions in the best interest of Mom and her safety, such as not letting her have the car keys, and that "whatever we say, goes." As I was talking with Sister N, I realized I should NOT have allowed Mom to go with Grandma! Especially with how dizzy she's been, Grandma is incapable of keeping both of them balanced.
When Grandma and Mom got home later, Grandma told me that Mom had gotten really dizzy and had a hard time keeping her balance! I felt so guilty letting them go off shopping together! This is definitely a learning experience! Later that evening, Mom and I were in the kitchen --I was sitting at the table and she was at the counter next to the refrigerator. I heard, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" and her feet shuffling. In that split second, I jumped up and turned, but she had crashed headlong into the refrigerator, hitting her forehead on the corner! I grabbed her and pinned her against the counter until she could gain her balance. I had her sit in the chair and I put ice on her forehead--that was FOUR falls within 24 hours!!!
Also, when Mom is in her manic phases, she doesn't get nearly enough sleep! She'll stay up all night watching TV in her room, lie down for about 2-3 hours, then get up early and have coffee with Husband G. That may be contributing to her dizziness. And she eats a lot when she's up.
This first month has been filled with new learning experiences. I am usually very quiet and keep to myself. I've always stuffed my feelings inside and rarely speak my mind. I've even hesitated being a proper advocate for my children in the past due to my resistance to making waves, ruffling feathers, or hurting others' feelings, even at the expense of my own. But I have realized that if I'm to be Mom's caregiver, I have to put her safety number one, and I can't let her go off shopping with Grandma anymore unless I accompany them. I have to SPEAK UP, set boundaries, and stick to them! I have to be firm with Mom and not let her call the shots, no matter how loudly she protests! I have to remind myself of what Sister N said, "I am the boss, not Mom!" I don't know if I can get used to this role reversal. This has been a very intense time for me, but I hope to get the hang of it soon. At least I have Sister M and my brothers to help me, and possibly Nephew B and his girlfriend S, who are still living downstairs. I sure hope they get their house built soon, because I don't know how long Husband G and I can live in a small guest bedroom, crowded with boxes and furniture, where I have no place to escape when my senses get overloaded.
I had moved to Colorado in 1996, to end an unhealthy relationship with my children's father, so I didn't get to visit Mom on a regular basis. I was also considered the "black sheep" of the family, moving out at the tender age of 18 because my parents "didn't understand me." It was because of this early tension as a teenager and young adult that my mother and I didn't share a close bond. In fact, part of the reason I moved to Colorado was to get out from under my mother's thumb and my Sister M's control and constant criticism. She didn't like that I made my own decisions, choices that didn't concern her in the least, so it was better that I lived 2/3 of the country away from all of them so that I could live my own life. Because of my disagreements with Mom, there would be months at a time when we didn't speak. I can count on one hand the number of times my parents visited me during the 16+ years I lived in Colorado. So when I moved back in with her, it was like getting to know her all over again.
Mom's Bipolar Disorder (BPD) had been diagnosed several years prior. I had gotten the story through Mom, who was in denial about her mental health. I imagine her boss at work suspected something was wrong, as Mom accused them of "being against her" and trying to "force her into retirement." Maybe they suspected something and tried to talk to Mom about it, but she didn't want to admit that anything was amiss. The way it all came about, Mom had been at work and broken her ankle. Being in a cast for 6 weeks, she was forced to stay at home, on crutches. The day she went back to work, she broke her OTHER ankle, and was off work for ANOTHER 6 weeks! During that time, at home for 12 straight weeks with nothing to do, she started going through some old paperwork. She discovered that Dad's insurance coverage dwindled after his retirement, along with his pension, so she started worrying incessantly about their finances. She thinks this is when her downward spiral began. She became so obsessed with their finances that she fell into a deep, dark depression, unable to pull herself out of it. Regardless of if the depression was a result of the retirement or vice versa, Mom could not shake herself of the darkness that enveloped her entire world.
Eventually, she started to feel better. Much better. So good, in fact, that she would go on shopping sprees and spend hundreds, even thousands, in one day! Mom and Dad rarely, if ever, argued about anything during their almost 45 years of marriage before he died of cancer in 2007, but I guarantee Dad hit the ceiling when the Discover bill arrived in the mail! He took precautions and, unbeknownst to Mom (or she forgot), opened a separate checking account where he deposited his paychecks from his part time job at American University and all his early inheritance money from his parents. He had to "protect himself" is how the story went (Mom said he was "selfish and didn't want to share his money." She, on the other hand, used her money from the sale of Grandma's house--an early inheritance--to get their new driveway paved). More on that in a later post .... Anyway, she would go through these phases of depression and mania, nearly driving Dad (and my local siblings) up the wall! One day, my Sister M came across an article in a magazine about bipolar disorder and showed it to Mom, "This is what you have." Mom later shared the article with her doctor, and the diagnosis became official. She was started on numerous prescriptions to treat it, but he wasn't a psychiatrist and didn't know what he was doing, so Mom suffered as a result.
The first couple of weeks after arriving in Maryland, I spent observing Mom and taking notes in a "health journal." The day after Husband G and I arrived, the three of us drove to Vermont to celebrate some dear friends' 50th wedding anniversary. Mom did okay the first day, but the second day, she "went down," our mom-speak to say she entered the depression phase of her BPD (if she was in her manic phase, we said she was "up"). She stayed in her room at the bed & breakfast with the curtains drawn, refusing to join us for a cookout on the lake or for meals in the common dining room. I checked on her often, helpless not knowing what to do or how to help her. She assured me this was "normal" for her.
Her general practitioner at the time, Dr. L., had her on a regimen of Klonopin, Olanzapine, and Prozac, among other psychotropic drugs, which I was to change the doses depending on where she was in her manic and depressive phases. It was difficult to keep up with the changes in her meds, but I did my best. I referred to a sheet of paper that Sister M had written up for me (I'll have to find it and update later). I felt like I'd never get the hang of all these medications (13 total), so for Mom to be able to keep up with them was expecting way too much, especially in her mental condition! No wonder she crashed Dad's truck!
Mom was considered a "rapid cycler" in her BPD: she would go up (mania) and down (depression) every 4-6 weeks, give or take a week or two. I charted her cycles on a calendar using yellow and blue colored pencils, and eventually I could predict when she would go up and down within a day or two using this chart and observing her behavior. During her down phases, she would stay in her bedroom, keep the blinds drawn, and either sleep or watch television. Her appetite waned and she would barely eat anything during the first week. After about the second week, she would start to eat again, but not much. She had put on about 30 lbs. since her diagnosis and it bothered her a lot, especially because she maintained a svelte 130-lb. figure and jogged seven days a week before her ankle injuries. She refused phone calls and visitors during her down phase, and regardless of how many messages one left, she would not return their calls. She wanted nothing to do with any socializing and refused to even go to church.
During her manic phases, she was a completely different person! She became a scatterbrained chatterbox, bouncing from one unfinished project to the next! Brother M nicknamed her "Chatty Cathy" during these phases, as she would call everyone in her address book and talk for hours on the phone! She delivered Meals on Wheels with Grandma (this was before Husband G and I arrived), volunteered at the church and at Sister M's school, and helped her neighbors. She would tell strangers at the bank and grocery store that she had BPD, and as a result of having no social filter, she asked them personal questions or shared inappropriate details about herself. It was embarrassing!
Within the first month of arriving, Mom was having trouble keeping steady on her feet. She had to hold onto a shopping cart whenever we were in the store. Bruises and scratches would appear on her arms and legs, but she had no idea where they came from. She would get belligerent if I suggested she needed to hold onto me if she was dizzy, thinking she was "fine" and could "do it herself." Her stubbornness knew no bounds!
On August 31, 2012, I entered the following in her health journal:
The subject of driving came up. Mom said, "Oh yeah, I need you to give me the car keys because I'm driving to church on Sunday."
I was a bit confused. Didn't she remember she was just in a car accident and wasn't allowed to drive anymore? The reason Husband G and I were there was for me to be her chauffeur. "Mom, I can't give you the keys, remember your truck accident?"
"I don't care! That was a long time ago! I'm gonna drive!"
I looked at my husband--I think we were both in shock at her level of belligerence! She was getting upset.
"Mom, I'm sorry, but I can't give you the keys. That's why I'm here."
"I CAN drive! Why won't you give me the keys?"
"Because Sister M told me to take them away. She said I can't let you drive under any circumstances and all of us siblings agree."
"I CAN drive, and I'm gonna PROVE it!"
"Okay, Mom, but only after Dr. L. gives you a Clean Bill of Health in writing, and you pass a driving test at the DMV."
"Okay, you watch! I'm gonna drive again!"
Grandma was no help in this situation. All of the siblings agreed that for Mom's safety, she was NOT to drive again, but Grandma kept putting a bug in Mom's ear, "Don't let them take away your driving freedom!" We really need to get Grandma on board with the safety plan before she sabotages all our hard work!
Mom's dizziness and mobility have become an issue too. She sat on the floor with the dogs and couldn't get up by herself. I tried to lift her by myself but couldn't (she weighs around 165 lbs.). I started to panic, but calmed down and directed her onto all fours, then told her to crawl over to the couch where she could pull herself up and I could help her. It took several minutes, but we got her up!
Minutes later, I was in my bedroom when I heard Mom yelling for me! I dashed into her bathroom and found her on the shower floor! She had fallen and couldn't get up! She was wet and slippery and it was difficult to get a good hold on her. I suggested I call Husband G in from cutting the grass to help, but she refused. I turned off the shower, laid a towel under her so she could get a better grip on the tile floor, I told her to grip the handicap rail, then I put my arms under her armpits and locked my fists across her chest. Between her pulling on the bar and me pulling her up, she was finally able to stand. Her legs were really shaky so I toweled her off, rubbed body lotion on her, and helped her get dressed. She then left with Grandma to go shopping.
I was so overwhelmed by how out-of-sorts Mom was! Who knows how long she's been like this? I can't imagine she had many falls before now, otherwise, how would she have gotten up? Grandma is too weak to be able to help, and Nephew B is hardly around. She's very confused, forgetful, and scatterbrained. She'll start a project, move onto another one, and leave the first project uncompleted. When she's up, she's always talking, talking, talking! I don't know how much of this talking I can handle! I have to escape to my room sometimes. Luckily, Husband G is a talker, so they talk a lot in the mornings.
With the whole argument over driving and Mom's resistance to help, as well as being in denial about her condition, I told Husband G that I needed to talk to someone. He suggested Sister M. "No, I need someone understanding and compassionate." I called Sister N instead. She's just what the doctor ordered! Sister N was very understanding, compassionate, sympathetic, and concerned for me and Mom. I put her on speaker phone so Husband G and I could talk to her. Sister N helped me understand that G and I are the "bosses," we need to make decisions in the best interest of Mom and her safety, such as not letting her have the car keys, and that "whatever we say, goes." As I was talking with Sister N, I realized I should NOT have allowed Mom to go with Grandma! Especially with how dizzy she's been, Grandma is incapable of keeping both of them balanced.
When Grandma and Mom got home later, Grandma told me that Mom had gotten really dizzy and had a hard time keeping her balance! I felt so guilty letting them go off shopping together! This is definitely a learning experience! Later that evening, Mom and I were in the kitchen --I was sitting at the table and she was at the counter next to the refrigerator. I heard, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" and her feet shuffling. In that split second, I jumped up and turned, but she had crashed headlong into the refrigerator, hitting her forehead on the corner! I grabbed her and pinned her against the counter until she could gain her balance. I had her sit in the chair and I put ice on her forehead--that was FOUR falls within 24 hours!!!
Also, when Mom is in her manic phases, she doesn't get nearly enough sleep! She'll stay up all night watching TV in her room, lie down for about 2-3 hours, then get up early and have coffee with Husband G. That may be contributing to her dizziness. And she eats a lot when she's up.
This first month has been filled with new learning experiences. I am usually very quiet and keep to myself. I've always stuffed my feelings inside and rarely speak my mind. I've even hesitated being a proper advocate for my children in the past due to my resistance to making waves, ruffling feathers, or hurting others' feelings, even at the expense of my own. But I have realized that if I'm to be Mom's caregiver, I have to put her safety number one, and I can't let her go off shopping with Grandma anymore unless I accompany them. I have to SPEAK UP, set boundaries, and stick to them! I have to be firm with Mom and not let her call the shots, no matter how loudly she protests! I have to remind myself of what Sister N said, "I am the boss, not Mom!" I don't know if I can get used to this role reversal. This has been a very intense time for me, but I hope to get the hang of it soon. At least I have Sister M and my brothers to help me, and possibly Nephew B and his girlfriend S, who are still living downstairs. I sure hope they get their house built soon, because I don't know how long Husband G and I can live in a small guest bedroom, crowded with boxes and furniture, where I have no place to escape when my senses get overloaded.
Thursday, September 22, 2016
The E-mail that Changed My Life
In June 2012, I considered my life in Colorado Springs, Colorado, to be good. I owned my own home, I loved my job as a department manager for a large craft store chain, I was surrounded by friends who loved me, I was deeply involved with my church and a group of women affectionately named "Women of Worth," and at 45, I considered myself to be in the best health I've ever been. I had recently lost almost 100 lbs., I belonged to a women's running club, and had completed two half marathons, among various 5Ks, 10Ks, and other runs. I was unhappily married, but we were getting counseling, and I was heavily involved in the local art scene as well.
But then I received an email that would change my life in ways I never imagined. My youngest sister, "Sister N" sent this:
I just had a really disturbing conversation with Mom. She told me that a couple of weeks ago she ran her truck off the road and thinks it's because of the medication she's on. Praise the Lord she wasn't hurt, but apparently the truck was. This is the second incident (I know of) where she's had an accident because she became disoriented. The first was when she fell at McDonald's and bloodied her knees and face and had a crowd of people and paramedics come to her assistance. When she told me about McDonald's, she said she thought it was because of her medicine but today she said she didn't think it was. I don't know what caused either incident, but I do know that she's currently on 5 different anti-depressants for her bipolar disorder and that if she strays from her regimen in any way, it can be disastrous. I've also been noticing a lot more forgetfulness than usual, as she often tells me that she doesn't remember saying or doing something. I've tried to be very straightforward with her and let her know that something is "broken" with her memory and that she and I need to communicate in writing (on things like visits to California) to eliminate any misunderstandings. I told her today that the side effects of her medicine are very bad and she needs to see the doctor to have them adjusted. I also let her know that I would be emailing all of you to make you aware of her situation. I think we need to see to it that she's fit to drive before she attempts to again. Who knows how the next incident will turn out.
Can we have an email conversation about this? Our schedules don't allow for a conference call, but we need to be discussing this with each other. And Mom needs to know what we're saying and/or noticing about her, if anything. Can one of you in Maryland get her to the doctor? What can I do to help?
I LOVE YOU ALL,
N.
My oldest sister, "Sister M" replied:
The truck incident and the McDonald's incident took place on the same day, which was more like three weeks ago. That morning she had been behind me when I was driving to work and she was driving in the wrong lane. I rolled my window down to indicate to her to get back in the right lane and she did, but then veered off the road on the other side, half in and half out of the lane. She pulled back into the roadway shortly before hitting a telephone pole. I pulled my car over at the intersection of Bowie and Baptist Church, got out of the car, and ordered her to pull over. I asked her what in the world she thought she was doing and told her that she had NO BUSINESS driving if she was having trouble keeping in her own lane. FYI, I have been behind her on a number of occasions and she's always weaving, but never this badly! In fact, I won't let my kids ride with her anymore. Anyway, I told her she needed to go home. She told me she had an appointment to get the cap on the truck. I told her to go another day or let Grandma drive (she was in the truck at this time). She just looked at me like I was crazy. I yelled at her "GO HOME!" She continued to stare at me. I told her if she wanted to kill herself driving, that was one thing, but I was not going to let her kill Grandma so I told Grandma to get out of the truck. I then told mom if she didn't go home, I was calling the police. She looked me right in the eye, put the truck in reverse and went around me, driving on down the road! I took Grandma home and she told me that when she tried to tell mom to get back in the right lane, mom's response was "Don't tell me how to drive!" She didn't even tell me she had wrecked the truck that day. She knew I would be furious at her because I told her to go home and she refused. I only found out because she and Grandma had come to the house and she mentioned that she found out from the insurance agent that she didn't have collision on her Hyundai. Of course I got to thinking and asked her what made her call the insurance agent in the first place. She and Grandma looked at each other and neither said anything at first and then she said, "I had an accident in the truck." She told me that she went off the road and into the bushes. I told her then and there that I thought she was no longer fit to drive a car and told Grandma that I didn't want her riding with her anymore. Grandma said that mom got some medicine from the doctor to help her with her dizziness, and she hasn't had any problems with that since. Don't know if I believe that though. Mom and Grandma are acting like her dizzy spells, disorientation, and forgetfulness are something new. I'm here to tell you they are not. She has been complaining of these symptoms for at least a couple of years now. Her forgetfulness has been for just as long, which is why I've come to the conclusion that, when Grandma passes, Mom will have to go into assisted living. She cannot take care of herself and I don't believe any of us (except for maybe Stephanie) are in a position to take care of her full time. I'm thinking of talking to her doctor to get her admitted to a hospital (Calvert has a very good psych ward), detoxed, and start from scratch. I've had her with several different doctors on all different combinations of medication for 10 years now and no one can seem to get it right!
I'm the middle of the five siblings. I responded with:
Mom told me about this incident shortly after it happened. I have to say she totally minimized what happened, as well as the damages to the truck. I'm sorry I didn't follow up like N did, but it really didn't sound like it was that serious.
She didn't mention the McDonald's incident at all. :( Many (All?) of you know that the only reason I would ever move back to Maryland would be to take care of our parents. Now that Dad is gone, if Mom needs help, the offer still stands. Husband G and I discussed this several months ago and even mentioned it to Mom when she visited us in March. She "joked" (although I think she was really serious but didn't want me to know) that she "needed someone to take care of her, especially if anything happens to Grandma." I told her I would be more than happy to be that person, and she said, "I thought you said you would never move back to MD?" I reminded her that the only reason I would move back is if she needed to be taken care of. I suggested we could live in the basement after [my nephew B] got his house built and moved out, and she agreed that would be a good idea. Over the last several weeks, Husband G and I have toyed with the idea of selling the house, downsizing, and moving, simply because "we can." What better reason to move back to Maryland than to make sure Mom is taken care of? I can apply for a job at nearby stores and I reactivated Husband G's resume for the DMV area. Much to my chagrin, when I read these emails to Husband G tonight, he "suddenly" doesn't want to move to MD, blaming the "job situation." But his current job isn't any better, especially since his hours have been DRASTICALLY cut recently, with no relief in sight. He's worried about the cost of living, but I think if we rent out Mom's basement, we should be okay. He can also do all the yardwork, home repairs, car maintenance, etc. I can take care of cooking, housecleaning, chauffeuring, personal trainer (LOL), etc. Would [Brother C, Brother M, Brother-in-Law J, our Nephews B or R] be able to put in a good word for Husband G at their jobs? He can do LOTS of different stuff and has lots of work experience, not just truck driving. I have to say I was very concerned with the amount of medication she's on, as well as how much she packed when she came out here. Later, when she was "up," even SHE was shocked (and embarrassed) at what/how much she packed, so it doesn't sound like her mental health is going to improve any time soon. I don't think she realizes how bad off she is, or she's at least not willing to admit it. Please, let me know what I can do to help. I don't know if I'm overreacting, or if we'd need to move in 6 weeks, 6 months, or 6 years, but whatever it takes, we're ready! Or even if Husband G can stay here and I just come out for a "prolonged visit," say, the next time she's "down" so that we get a feel for what she needs, we can do that, too. Whatever the case, it's going to take a lot of communication and prayer, so let's get started.
Love you guys! Stephanie
My younger brother, "Brother M" responded:
I only learned about both incidents last week. I am also concerned about Mom driving and she told me that she had received another medication to help her with her dizziness. I also remember that someone said she fell down in the parking lot at the Green Turtle. I remember that she couldn’t even ride the three wheel bike we got her for Christmas so this must be a long term issue with her meds. I know that taking care of Mom is a full time job and one that I would not be able to handle at this time in my life. It is sad but true and I know that [Sister M] has done as much as she can do to the point of frustration. We have talked about taking Mom to a better hospital, maybe in DC. I am willing to take turns with transportation to and from the doctors whenever I can. I thought that she also needed to see a therapist and that hasn’t happened on a regular basis either. I guess the questions really should be: How do we get her to take her medication on a REGULAR basis and how do we get her to therapy on a REGULAR basis? [Brother C] was talking to me last hunting season and said he would be interested in moving into the house with Mom to take care of her. I’m not sure if that offer still stands or if everyone would agree to it (namely, Brother C's wife MA). If anyone is willing to move in to help Mom I am fully supportive and will help in any way I can. I think [Brother C] should have a serious talk with [his son B] about helping out more. I know he works all the time but so do all of us. He knows what he needs to do around there. I don’t think it is out of line to ask him to cut the grass and take the trash to the dump on a regular basis. I think I am way out of the loop on everything. When Mom is down I don’t hear from her and she doesn’t answer the phone when I call, just like everyone else I am sure. When she is up she calls me with a list of items to take care of and then she flies away to visit. By the time she gets back, she is down again. I don’t have any problem helping out with my list of items and I am going to try and do more to help.
My older brother, "Brother C" responded:
Ok, I guess it's time to put my two cents worth in. I think first and foremost we should get mom help with her meds first, if that means putting her in some kind of detox home/facility we should do that first before someone uproots their life to move in to take care of her. She really upset me too when I heard she wrecked the truck because I specifically told her not to drive it until I fixed the brakes! I even had a talk with her when we went to get a new master cylinder for it, I told her I was gonna take all her keys away from her, she didn't try to fight me on it so guess she knows she has a problem. The talk that [Brother M] and.I had about moving into the house at that time wasn't guided on having to take care of.mom because of her condition but more of a financial thing. We both thought that I would be the best sib to move in because I could afford the bills and do all needed upkeep and take care of mom when she was "down." Let me know what you all think of my ideas and maybe we should do some kind of conference call to further discuss this .
But then I received an email that would change my life in ways I never imagined. My youngest sister, "Sister N" sent this:
Hi, guys.
I just had a really disturbing conversation with Mom. She told me that a couple of weeks ago she ran her truck off the road and thinks it's because of the medication she's on. Praise the Lord she wasn't hurt, but apparently the truck was. This is the second incident (I know of) where she's had an accident because she became disoriented. The first was when she fell at McDonald's and bloodied her knees and face and had a crowd of people and paramedics come to her assistance. When she told me about McDonald's, she said she thought it was because of her medicine but today she said she didn't think it was. I don't know what caused either incident, but I do know that she's currently on 5 different anti-depressants for her bipolar disorder and that if she strays from her regimen in any way, it can be disastrous. I've also been noticing a lot more forgetfulness than usual, as she often tells me that she doesn't remember saying or doing something. I've tried to be very straightforward with her and let her know that something is "broken" with her memory and that she and I need to communicate in writing (on things like visits to California) to eliminate any misunderstandings. I told her today that the side effects of her medicine are very bad and she needs to see the doctor to have them adjusted. I also let her know that I would be emailing all of you to make you aware of her situation. I think we need to see to it that she's fit to drive before she attempts to again. Who knows how the next incident will turn out.
Can we have an email conversation about this? Our schedules don't allow for a conference call, but we need to be discussing this with each other. And Mom needs to know what we're saying and/or noticing about her, if anything. Can one of you in Maryland get her to the doctor? What can I do to help?
I LOVE YOU ALL,
N.
My oldest sister, "Sister M" replied:
The truck incident and the McDonald's incident took place on the same day, which was more like three weeks ago. That morning she had been behind me when I was driving to work and she was driving in the wrong lane. I rolled my window down to indicate to her to get back in the right lane and she did, but then veered off the road on the other side, half in and half out of the lane. She pulled back into the roadway shortly before hitting a telephone pole. I pulled my car over at the intersection of Bowie and Baptist Church, got out of the car, and ordered her to pull over. I asked her what in the world she thought she was doing and told her that she had NO BUSINESS driving if she was having trouble keeping in her own lane. FYI, I have been behind her on a number of occasions and she's always weaving, but never this badly! In fact, I won't let my kids ride with her anymore. Anyway, I told her she needed to go home. She told me she had an appointment to get the cap on the truck. I told her to go another day or let Grandma drive (she was in the truck at this time). She just looked at me like I was crazy. I yelled at her "GO HOME!" She continued to stare at me. I told her if she wanted to kill herself driving, that was one thing, but I was not going to let her kill Grandma so I told Grandma to get out of the truck. I then told mom if she didn't go home, I was calling the police. She looked me right in the eye, put the truck in reverse and went around me, driving on down the road! I took Grandma home and she told me that when she tried to tell mom to get back in the right lane, mom's response was "Don't tell me how to drive!" She didn't even tell me she had wrecked the truck that day. She knew I would be furious at her because I told her to go home and she refused. I only found out because she and Grandma had come to the house and she mentioned that she found out from the insurance agent that she didn't have collision on her Hyundai. Of course I got to thinking and asked her what made her call the insurance agent in the first place. She and Grandma looked at each other and neither said anything at first and then she said, "I had an accident in the truck." She told me that she went off the road and into the bushes. I told her then and there that I thought she was no longer fit to drive a car and told Grandma that I didn't want her riding with her anymore. Grandma said that mom got some medicine from the doctor to help her with her dizziness, and she hasn't had any problems with that since. Don't know if I believe that though. Mom and Grandma are acting like her dizzy spells, disorientation, and forgetfulness are something new. I'm here to tell you they are not. She has been complaining of these symptoms for at least a couple of years now. Her forgetfulness has been for just as long, which is why I've come to the conclusion that, when Grandma passes, Mom will have to go into assisted living. She cannot take care of herself and I don't believe any of us (except for maybe Stephanie) are in a position to take care of her full time. I'm thinking of talking to her doctor to get her admitted to a hospital (Calvert has a very good psych ward), detoxed, and start from scratch. I've had her with several different doctors on all different combinations of medication for 10 years now and no one can seem to get it right!
Love, M.
I'm the middle of the five siblings. I responded with:
Mom told me about this incident shortly after it happened. I have to say she totally minimized what happened, as well as the damages to the truck. I'm sorry I didn't follow up like N did, but it really didn't sound like it was that serious.
She didn't mention the McDonald's incident at all. :( Many (All?) of you know that the only reason I would ever move back to Maryland would be to take care of our parents. Now that Dad is gone, if Mom needs help, the offer still stands. Husband G and I discussed this several months ago and even mentioned it to Mom when she visited us in March. She "joked" (although I think she was really serious but didn't want me to know) that she "needed someone to take care of her, especially if anything happens to Grandma." I told her I would be more than happy to be that person, and she said, "I thought you said you would never move back to MD?" I reminded her that the only reason I would move back is if she needed to be taken care of. I suggested we could live in the basement after [my nephew B] got his house built and moved out, and she agreed that would be a good idea. Over the last several weeks, Husband G and I have toyed with the idea of selling the house, downsizing, and moving, simply because "we can." What better reason to move back to Maryland than to make sure Mom is taken care of? I can apply for a job at nearby stores and I reactivated Husband G's resume for the DMV area. Much to my chagrin, when I read these emails to Husband G tonight, he "suddenly" doesn't want to move to MD, blaming the "job situation." But his current job isn't any better, especially since his hours have been DRASTICALLY cut recently, with no relief in sight. He's worried about the cost of living, but I think if we rent out Mom's basement, we should be okay. He can also do all the yardwork, home repairs, car maintenance, etc. I can take care of cooking, housecleaning, chauffeuring, personal trainer (LOL), etc. Would [Brother C, Brother M, Brother-in-Law J, our Nephews B or R] be able to put in a good word for Husband G at their jobs? He can do LOTS of different stuff and has lots of work experience, not just truck driving. I have to say I was very concerned with the amount of medication she's on, as well as how much she packed when she came out here. Later, when she was "up," even SHE was shocked (and embarrassed) at what/how much she packed, so it doesn't sound like her mental health is going to improve any time soon. I don't think she realizes how bad off she is, or she's at least not willing to admit it. Please, let me know what I can do to help. I don't know if I'm overreacting, or if we'd need to move in 6 weeks, 6 months, or 6 years, but whatever it takes, we're ready! Or even if Husband G can stay here and I just come out for a "prolonged visit," say, the next time she's "down" so that we get a feel for what she needs, we can do that, too. Whatever the case, it's going to take a lot of communication and prayer, so let's get started. Love you guys! Stephanie
My younger brother, "Brother M" responded:
I only learned about both incidents last week. I am also concerned about Mom driving and she told me that she had received another medication to help her with her dizziness. I also remember that someone said she fell down in the parking lot at the Green Turtle. I remember that she couldn’t even ride the three wheel bike we got her for Christmas so this must be a long term issue with her meds. I know that taking care of Mom is a full time job and one that I would not be able to handle at this time in my life. It is sad but true and I know that [Sister M] has done as much as she can do to the point of frustration. We have talked about taking Mom to a better hospital, maybe in DC. I am willing to take turns with transportation to and from the doctors whenever I can. I thought that she also needed to see a therapist and that hasn’t happened on a regular basis either. I guess the questions really should be: How do we get her to take her medication on a REGULAR basis and how do we get her to therapy on a REGULAR basis? [Brother C] was talking to me last hunting season and said he would be interested in moving into the house with Mom to take care of her. I’m not sure if that offer still stands or if everyone would agree to it (namely, Brother C's wife MA). If anyone is willing to move in to help Mom I am fully supportive and will help in any way I can. I think [Brother C] should have a serious talk with [his son B] about helping out more. I know he works all the time but so do all of us. He knows what he needs to do around there. I don’t think it is out of line to ask him to cut the grass and take the trash to the dump on a regular basis. I think I am way out of the loop on everything. When Mom is down I don’t hear from her and she doesn’t answer the phone when I call, just like everyone else I am sure. When she is up she calls me with a list of items to take care of and then she flies away to visit. By the time she gets back, she is down again. I don’t have any problem helping out with my list of items and I am going to try and do more to help.
Love you guys, M
My older brother, "Brother C" responded:
Ok, I guess it's time to put my two cents worth in. I think first and foremost we should get mom help with her meds first, if that means putting her in some kind of detox home/facility we should do that first before someone uproots their life to move in to take care of her. She really upset me too when I heard she wrecked the truck because I specifically told her not to drive it until I fixed the brakes! I even had a talk with her when we went to get a new master cylinder for it, I told her I was gonna take all her keys away from her, she didn't try to fight me on it so guess she knows she has a problem. The talk that [Brother M] and.I had about moving into the house at that time wasn't guided on having to take care of.mom because of her condition but more of a financial thing. We both thought that I would be the best sib to move in because I could afford the bills and do all needed upkeep and take care of mom when she was "down." Let me know what you all think of my ideas and maybe we should do some kind of conference call to further discuss this .
Luv Y'all! Your loving brother C :)
Through many more emails and phone calls over the next couple weeks, my siblings and I decided that Mom needed a full-time, live-in caregiver, and that I was in the best position out of all of us to do it. My oldest son lived on his own and my other two children were living with their father and step-mother, so technically, I was an empty-nester, whereas my siblings still had young children at home (Brother C's kids were grown). My Husband G and I quit our jobs, packed our possessions, loaded up our dogs (I was not allowed to bring my cat), and traveled 1700 miles to the East Coast to become Mom's caregivers, arriving August 2, 2012, less than 6 weeks after the initial email. I didn't have enough time to sell my house, as my Sister M said it was "urgent" I move ASAP. Thankfully, my oldest Son M and his girlfriend T, who lived three doors down, were willing to move in so that I didn't have to sell it. That way, when my job with Mom was done (we figured two years max), I would have my house to move back into and life would return to normal.
That was four years ago. I'm still Mom's caregiver. My husband and I separated last year for the third and final time. I thought I'd be back in Colorado by now. I'm not. I am desperate to have my life back, but it's looking like that won't happen anytime soon. So I decided to start this blog to share my experience with others, to share the nitty gritty of being the caregiver of a family member who has bipolar disorder and (now) advanced dementia (according to www.alz.org, Mom is in the late stages of her dementia, although she's not "officially" diagnosed with Alzheimer's). I will try to reconstruct my story as best I can from memory, emails, and journal entries over the years to share what I've learned, and hopefully get the word out that being a caregiver is a stressful, sometimes thankless job. Ann Brenoff, in her article on Huffington Post, says, "No, Caregiving is NOT Rewarding. It Simply Sucks."
More times than not, I would have to agree.
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