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My mother's sisters never did get it because none of them have been full-time caretakers. They came to see their sister (my mother), but they never knew what my father and I were going through day in, day out.
Reliving the caretaking days in my mind is just as bad, if not worse, than her death (her mind was completely gone when she died, as the sepsis destroyed her already fragile brain from the stroke and seizures).
I know you get it, Mightyqueen. The caretaking days take my breath away. I don't know my Dad and I managed to survive it without putting my mother in a care home.
Healing from grief/caretaking is a journey. I have a lot of anger these days.
Take good care of yourself.
And you do the same.
My anger has greatly subsided. Oh, it still strikes now and again, but less frequently and intensely than a year ago.
I took care of my foster mom for several years before she passed....it was extremely difficult....and I understand you not wanting to open up to family about it....I do....
I'm sorry your going thru this...it is difficult...to experience....
yanno what, I re=read this again, and honestly who gives a darn if people gossip, they will even if they don't have any material to gossip about....
I post to get feedback, and I don't really care what people think of me....it's comforting to know if others have experienced the same as you.
So, be it you like to keep details private or not....bottom line is, at least your talking about it and getting it out...it's unhealthy to hold things inside.
And I do know we're not all alike in the way we feel about a thing....but I saw you wrote on this Privet....no one knows who you are...but there are those in here who would like to help comfort you in some way and they won't take it any further, and others will...
after reading this thread, down the road, perhaps one of us will be discussing the same type of situation with a friend and remember some real sound advice that someone said here, and it will help that person.
You should never be afraid to be open.
In the end days of our loved ones, especially our moms, they are not the same, life has whittled away at their independence, their minds, pain has caused them to be angry, and not themselves for certain, my mother, was certainly not the person I remembered growing up....but she was still my mom, and I loved her dearly even though we weren't blood. I knew her since I was 5 years old. So, in lieu of what she did for me, taking care of her in the end, was hard, but something I wanted to do...
But I do understand how you feel about keeping it from your family, which is very wise...and respectful
We all process grief in our own way. Some people can't speak about it enough and people like you (and me) would rather not be asked about things like their "feelings". Ugh.
The fact is, I don't really want to talk about my husband's death right now. I took care of him for over five years. I made him as comfortable and happy as possible. I chafed under the yoke but loved/liked him enough to keep on going. I talked about things when being the caregiver and was happy for people to listen and interact. It was very helpful.
Now he is gone. I have talked enough. It's finished and it's time to think about things other than wheelchairs, hospital beds, oxygen tanks, oxygen concentrators, dealing with incontinence, dispensing medications, fixing appropriate meals, not being about to go out and leave him alone.... or the myriad doctor/ER visits.
I am so sad he's gone. The person who passed away last Tuesday, however, is not the funny, clever and affectionate person I married. He's been gone awhile and my grief for him has played out over time. Now it's about trying to keep my sanity intact. It's been a long road.
We all process grief in our own way. Some people can't speak about it enough and people like you (and me) would rather not be asked about things like their "feelings". Ugh.
The fact is, I don't really want to talk about my husband's death right now. I took care of him for over five years. I made him as comfortable and happy as possible. I chafed under the yoke but loved/liked him enough to keep on going. I talked about things when being the caregiver and was happy for people to listen and interact. It was very helpful.
Now he is gone. I have talked enough. It's finished and it's time to think about things other than wheelchairs, hospital beds, oxygen tanks, oxygen concentrators, dealing with incontinence, dispensing medications, fixing appropriate meals, not being about to go out and leave him alone.... or the myriad doctor/ER visits.
I am so sad he's gone. The person who passed away last Tuesday, however, is not the funny, clever and affectionate person I married. He's been gone awhile and my grief for him has played out over time. Now it's about trying to keep my sanity intact. It's been a long road.
It takes a while. Being a caregiver for someone you love leaves you with a kind of PTSD. You have to heal from it.
My bf died a little more than a year ago. A friend of mine had surgery last week and said they inserted a catheter and that the bag was full, and I had a sudden flashback of changing his catheter bag, trying to detach it from the catheter without tugging on it and hurting him. I got pretty good at it, a skill I hope to never use again.
The only person I ever talked with about that was my sister, whose husband has MS and who has a permanent catheter inserted via surgery. We agreed we like the bags with the metal clips better than the plastic ones. Not exactly dinner conversation with normal people.
We all process grief in our own way. Some people can't speak about it enough and people like you (and me) would rather not be asked about things like their "feelings". Ugh.
The fact is, I don't really want to talk about my husband's death right now. I took care of him for over five years. I made him as comfortable and happy as possible. I chafed under the yoke but loved/liked him enough to keep on going. I talked about things when being the caregiver and was happy for people to listen and interact. It was very helpful.
Now he is gone. I have talked enough. It's finished and it's time to think about things other than wheelchairs, hospital beds, oxygen tanks, oxygen concentrators, dealing with incontinence, dispensing medications, fixing appropriate meals, not being about to go out and leave him alone.... or the myriad doctor/ER visits.
I am so sad he's gone. The person who passed away last Tuesday, however, is not the funny, clever and affectionate person I married. He's been gone awhile and my grief for him has played out over time. Now it's about trying to keep my sanity intact. It's been a long road.
THANK YOU! This post means more to me than you can imagine.
It takes a while. Being a caregiver for someone you love leaves you with a kind of PTSD. You have to heal from it.
Caretaking takes us to places we never knew possible. When things get bad, they get even worse. And when things seem to be at their worst, it gets worse. You just don't know what to do. Dad and I operated like robots at time while caring for my mother. We had a few lighthearted or okay moments in the 2-years ordeal, but we were just "hangin' on by a thread." In hindsight, we very much see that that was the case.
Long-term caretakers just don't have to deal with death; they also have to process the years of caretaking. It takes a lot of time.
Sometimes I can't believe how bad things really were. I took the car in the evenings and fall asleep in it. I knew what awaited me when I got back home. My father would also take my mother for rides in the evening. That's when her behavior/demeanor were usually at their best. It was the only rest we could get, if only an hour or two. Sadly, my mother would always tell my father to wake up in the car parking lot if he fell asleep at the ice cream shop they frequented. My mother would have to fall asleep first for her to let my Dad sleep. LOL. Crazy. Poor man was kept all night long, walking 40-50 times a night between the kitchen and living room.
Caretaking takes us to places we never knew possible. When things get bad, they get even worse. And when things seem to be at their worst, it gets worse. You just don't know what to do. Dad and I operated like robots at time while caring for my mother. We had a few lighthearted or okay moments in the 2-years ordeal, but we were just "hangin' on by a thread." In hindsight, we very much see that that was the case.
Long-term caretakers just don't have to deal with death; they also have to process the years of caretaking. It takes a lot of time.
Sometimes I can't believe how bad things really were. I took the car in the evenings and fall asleep in it. I knew what awaited me when I got back home. My father would also take my mother for rides in the evening. That's when her behavior/demeanor were usually at their best. It was the only rest we could get, if only an hour or two. Sadly, my mother would always tell my father to wake up in the car parking lot if he fell asleep at the ice cream shop they frequented. My mother would have to fall asleep first for her to let my Dad sleep. LOL. Crazy. Poor man was kept all night long, walking 40-50 times a night between the kitchen and living room.
It was tough taking care of my foster mom, sad, draining, heartbreaking...she was such an alive go getter, who adored flowers and gardening...I tried my best to keep her mind busy, put up a bird feeder so she could sit and watch all the birds in the neighborhood come to feed....worked her flower beds, so she could sit and view them outside, if she so chose to...she loved to show family members the beds....
She became so withdrawn, tired, angry, as life, little by little chipped away at her independence...
she had fallen and broke her hip, and I remember many mornings driving to work crying b/c of things she said...or did...she refused to listen, and she became most difficult...she should have been on oxygen, but refused it in the house, she feared it? Why I don't know. When I look back now, both my sisters and brother said, if it hadn't been for me, she wouldn't have been able to stay in the house as long as she did....personally, I didn't see it that way, to this day, I feel she should have been in a home and not by herself all day...but it wasn't my call...so you do the best you can and hope for the best.
My foster mom was peculiar, in so many ways, which isn't a bad thing...she just wasn't like other people. She was more independent then most...and loved any work she did, was a perfectionist...but little by little over time, she became less enthusiastic and more critical. It was sad to see...and experience...literally heartbreaking...she hated the fact that someone was caring for her...and I don't blame her. I didn't get it then, but do so understand now.
I had noticed that a lot more information was being published about some of the victims than others.
I think people have different needs of privacy and they have the right to have that respected, even at a personal level.
We all process grief differently and that needs to be respected by others. When someone is sick for a long time you grieve the loss of who they were many times before they actually die. I have been there a few times.
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