Where did my Happy Place go?

I’ve asked myself this question, quite a bit lately.  All the things, that I know, seem to be upside down.  I seem to go through my day, as norm, but things that used to make me happy, well…they still do, but it is like a sadness has fallen upon me and I don’t quite know how to handle it.

Things with Momma?  They are painful.  I hate to see how she is now, and I question, the modern medicineYes, she is alive, and Yes, we enjoy her company, most of the time.  But  where did her quality of life go?  The Momma, I know today, is not my Momma.  There I said it.  The woman I see before me today, is NOTHING, like what I know. Between the Parkinson’s, the Parkinson’s Dementia, and just plain old “stuff”, this is not my Momma.

It hurts me to the core, when she cries, because her mind has given her a scene that she thinks is real, but it is not.  It hurts me that she cannot swallow, so she drools worse than a 2-year-old teething. It hurts me when she tries so hard to stand and walk, and she gets scared, because her limbs are gripped in the stiffness, and she cannot make them work the way she wants them too.  It hurts, because her neck is full of spasms, and she cannot hold it up. It hurts me because she is in pain, and full of “things” in her mind, and I cannot help her.  There, I said it.  I. Cannot. Help. Her.

Oh sure, I can give her a bed bath, and scrub her head, so she stops itching,, I can clean her up after she goes on the potty.  I can hold her hand and just sing to her and she smiles and sings too.  I can hold her hand and talk to her in soft tones, and tell her stories of our past, they seem to comfort her.  I call the Farmer in on particularly rough moments, so he can back me up, so she will believe what I am saying.  Momma is tired.  I know this.  Heck for that matter, the Farmer and I are tired too.

It is not all doom and gloom.  There are moments, when Momma shines through and it is truly a joy to see, but they are coming farther and farther in between.  It’s okay though.  Truly it is.  What will be will be.

I haven’t written on my blog for a while, simply because, when I started this blog, it was about my life with Momma.  Life with Momma has been painful lately, and while it is hard for me to write this, I owe it to myself to see it through.  I’ve been contacted by so many people, that have the same disease as Momma.  Parkinson’s Disease.  I’ve made a lot of friends through this blog as well.

While it is painful for me to share with y’all these things, I will do it.  If only to let y’all in on my world and let you know, or simply just to educate others.

I really just wish I could find my Happy Place about now, and trust me I will.

6 responses

  1. Oh Jo – my heart breaks for you. A big empathy hug.

    1. Jules,
      You have been with me from the beginning….We share so much together, and Thank you! Hugs right back atcha…

  2. Oh my, I told myself that I wasn’t going to shed a tear today—-then I read your post. My tears are not for the loss of my dad, due to theis horrible disease, but they are for your struggle. I know how hard it is to blog when you feel totally surrounded with the frustration of feeling helpless.

    When my family had to move across the states due to my husband’s job promotion, my dad was “hallucinating”, according to my mom. She said the doctor told her it was due to the Parkinson’s medication. Anyway, six months after we moved, I went back home for a visit. My dad told me some whopper stories, but the one that broke my heart was when he said that he sees things that he knows are not there, but in his mind, everything is so real and he didn’t understand it.

    Six months after that, I went back for a visit. He was still living his life as usual. Not really accomplishing anything, and we couldn’t figure out what he was doing. My brother had a “discussion” with my dad about cutting a piece of wood. He had to cut 8 inches off, but insisted that he had to cut 4 inches off one end, and 4 inches off the other. He had a little note pad with drawings of their deck that he had plans to renovate. I came across that note pad last summer—-the drawing was pretty much correct, but his math and measurements were signs of his obvious mind deterioration.

    Four months after that, I had to go for another visit because my mom had to take my dad to the hospital. I will be forever grateful to my sister for helping when she could, but she had her own health problems. (We lost her this past March). Anyway, when I saw my dad after only 4 months, I didn’t even recognize him. I was shocked. I kind of think at that time he knew who I was, but not really.

    I went back six months later. At this time he was in a care facility because my mom could not physically lift him. He would slide to the floor and she couldn’t get him up. I tried talking her into all kinds of different options—-home nurse, etc., but this was the path she took.

    When I saw him that time, I believe he looked just like Clint Eastwood. He certainly didn’t look much like my strong, robust, dad. He didn’t act much like him, but there were tiny glimpses of his personality. I kept hearing his words playing over and over in my head that he would always tell me—-I sure hope I go peacefully in my sleep, and don’t lose my faculties so that I can’t take care of myself.

    I will always be angry with myself that we couldn’t find another option, and didn’t stay to help my mom and dad. There was only so much I could do by phone. I cannot totally feel your experience, except through the stories of my mom and sister. But I do know what it feels like to watch a person so full of life become weaker and weaker—-in body and mind. Life is not easy while taking care of a Parkinson’ with Dementia patient.

    It may take a while, but you will, once again, find your Happy Place. Remembering the great parts of your mom’s life and erasing all the memories of what is going on at this moment in time.

    Look for one little beautiful thing today, and hopefully it will bring you a moment of peace and happiness. -April

    1. April,
      I’ve typed 3 different responses to your comment. wp decided I should not post them, so I will tell you this, do not be angry, you did what you could with what you had. I am lucky in the fact, that we have decided to keep Momma at home, after bringing her home from the Nursing Home. It’s hard, and I have said this, oh so many times. Thank you for your words of encouragement. I truly Thank you.

  3. […] Where did my Happy Place go? (camsgranny.wordpress.com) […]

  4. 🙂 I’m in the process of learning to accept decisions I have made in the past. Whether they were great decisions, or not—-they were the best, with the information I had at the time, or what was best for my own little family. I am slowly letting myself ‘off the hook’, but I have to say that I continue to struggle with the fact that I was not there for my dad or my mom.

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