When I was a child, I had a fever

[cyrano]

It seems an appropriate time to discuss this; it's the dark of night, and that's when the monsters come out.
My mom has been managing more or less constant pain and physical/medical problems for thirty or forty years now. One of the reasons that I didn't follow the family to Idaho was that I would have ended up being a caretaker--the devoted child who does nothing but work and care for the elderly parents until they die. And I sometimes feel cripplingly guilty that I'm not willing to do that--to essentially return the favor. If they had stayed in Oregon, odds are likely that I would never have had sufficient impetus to remove myself from the situation. Anyway. She's not getting any better, and at this point much of what she's dealing with is damage and side effects caused by what were the current 'Modern Miracles of Medicine' back in the seventies and eighties.
Last night she called me because they're pretty sure my dad has Alzheimer's. His mother had it, and we took care of her for five years as she slowly degenerated. For the last four years, she had no idea who we were, and by the time she passed on, in my mind she had already been long dead. Which also made me feel amazingly guilty. I have a lot of issues with feeling guilty about the things I do in order to survive. Because they're harsh and they're not nice, and it's hard to admit that sometimes I'm not nice. Like knowing that my mom can't stand Idaho, and that the people out there are generally stupid and like it that way, and that out of our family I'm pretty much the only person she can talk to, and then choosing to avoid contact most of the time because it takes so much energy.
They told my dad that there was this medicine, and it would make the disease progress a little slower, and it was only going to cost $150 a month, and he's decided that they can't afford it. And they probably can't--Mom's Avon circuit is about the only income they have at this point, and it doesn't even make a dent in the tax debt they've accrued from being lower middle class during the Reagan Era.
So together their health will continue to decline and it doesn't look like there's any options available that look even remotely pleasant. And odds are pretty good that, given heredity, I'm going to end up in a similar situation in time. Slowly and painfully wringing the last bitter brackish drops out of my life. It makes me wonder what it would be like to drive into the median or off an overpass. There are no happy endings left, and I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away. Right now.

EDIT: It occurs to me that this sounds more suicidal than it is. I'm not planning to hurt myself. I'm not planning to find some romantic way to end it all. I'm just not looking forward to living out a life of misery and pain and gradual, inexorable degradation and attrition.

Comments

[irismoonlight.livejournal.com]

***Hugs***

Sweet one:

You did what you needed to do to survive. The fact that you wish you were stronger or "better" simply means you have expectations for yourself you can't live up to--which is part of the reason you're depressed, yes? It also means you have a desire to change and grow, and paradoxically, that's important for you to get healthier.

I just used paradoxically in an LJ post. I may never live down the shame.

Now. Mom died of Altheimer's and side effects of medication they gave her for breathing problems (she smoked). She took the medication you're talking about. It did help. But all it does is stave off the inevitable. It is not a cure. It just makes the descent go more slowly.

If I have altzheimer's I might take the drug temporarily to make sure my affairs are in order, and I'd said goodbye, lucidly, to everyone I wanted to. And then I'd drop it. Because the descent is the worst part. You're in and out of lucidity, and you KNOW it. And I don't want to prolong KNOWING. Knowing my brain is going and not being able to stop it. Watching my friends and famiily stop talking to me and start talking about me. *shudder*

Your mileage may vary. Your parents' emotional needs may vary. My dad had to give mom all the medication he could and the best care he could so no one could say he didn't do everything he could do for her. I don't know what she wanted. ... I can't go there.

Some of her medications also had side effects that were humiliating, as did the altzheimers itself.

I guess what I'm saying is that just because a medication is available doesn't mean you have to take it. If your father has decided he doesn't want to, maybe you should honor that. The expense may just be his excuse. I don't know your dad. I don't know your parents finances or decision-making habits. You do.

Now. Take care of yourself. Watching my parents age triggered all kinds of mortality issues for me and is for you--it's normal, hon. But take care of yourself while you deal with I Will Die Someday and I May Not Die In a Valhalla Way. They're heavy topics. Make sure you take flotation devices and don't go into that brain of yours alone. 'kay?

HUGS.

[wilson-lizard.livejournal.com]

*hugs*.. I'm sorry to hear about your dad.

...and I agree with irismoonlight here. Alzheimers is already a slow, painful way to go. Not a lot of point in drawing it out.

My grandfather has it also. For about 5 years, he hasn't remembered my mother, who calls him several times a week. He often is irritated with having to come to the phone to talk to some stranger. It's very upsetting for both of them.

I used to wonder why she called at all, but she told me last week that she is trying to set an example for Sis and I, and hopes that we will do the same for her.