Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Stirring the pot

What the heck is it about an aging parent that makes siblings act like a bunch of four year olds? I have been trying to figure this out...have read articles and books, talked to counselors and eldercare experts, attended caregiver support groups.   Emotionally charged, being in denial, disagreements on care decisions, guilt, helplessness. All these terms might explain the reactions, but they do not make it any easier to deal with the pain. When the aging parent is a model mother, much loved and respected by her children, even-tempered and Christian, always the center and the heart of the home, it makes sense for her adult children to have trouble accepting mom is frail and needs more help than they can give. They want to keep the idea and image of their sweet, strong, capable mom alive.  

But in our case, Mom has always been difficult, to put it mildly. Confrontational, mercurial, with serious mental health issues, most of us had no delusions about the person Mom really was. Her life was littered with failed relationships and a look at her past showed dozens, if not hundreds, of failed attempts to escape reality. She thrived on rancor and strife, loved playing the martyr, and would frequently stir the pot of sibling rivalries, pitting one against the other, so much so that we grew up laughingly wondering who was the "black sheep of the month." So it was natural for me, as I came to grips with the fact she would never change, to believe my sisters and I would be on the same page when it came to agreeing she needed help. That the biggest issue would be deciding which one of us would be stuck with it.  

I realized about eight years ago that my mom could no longer care for herself--she needed help with finances, cooking, healthcare, transportation, hygiene, and nutrition. My two sisters agreed, and they willingly stepped aside to let me carry the load. Or so I thought. Four years into the first attempt, sister #1 stepped in and whisked Mom and her husband away to another state, just as I had gotten approval for Mom to receive state-funded assisted living. No discussion. Mom had stirred the pot. Called her and told her how awful I was. Pleaded for "rescue." Alex and I vainly tried to change their minds (my mom's and my sister's), all to no avail.  

Fast forward 18 months--Mom was widowed and out of money. Bills were piling up.  Her health was horrible. She had a permanent colostomy. Neither sister #1 or sister #2 were equipped to help. We took it on. Again. Moved her here. Realized she needed 24/7, skilled nursing care. Got her settled. Made a few false steps with my sisters--old habits die hard so I fell into the sibling rivalry squabbles as, you guessed it, sweet little Mom stirred her Cafe Vienna and the pot. Pitted one against the other. Then two against one.   

Not fair, I said. Please understand, I'd say. I am doing what Mom needs, I'd cry.  Please support me in this, I begged. Silence.Then accusations. Bitter texts. Horrible words. Hateful shouting matches. Secret keeping. Against each other. Got so bad I blocked them from my phone, my social media, from my conversations with my dad. Because even though my dad HATES my mom, my sisters are constantly whispering in his ear how I am being a "dictator," and a horrible daughter and sister, exaggerating my missteps.  

Mom just got back to the nursing home from a short stay in the hospital, a result of going on hunger strike to get attention. After weeks of no word from either sister, I still let them know Mom was okay but hospitalized. Foolishly followed Mom's wishes of only having Alex and me allowed to get medical info. What followed was a flurry of nasty texts, ranting and ravings, and false accusations from sister #1, and a painfully loud silence from sister #2.  And all the while, Mom is asking me to fix the relationship with my sisters. Asking me innocently if I had talked to them, when she knew all the while she had stirred this pot. That she tells them things that will get them upset with me. That will put me alone against the three of them. I feel all alone. Helpless. Sad. Why can't they see she is using us all? That this is her way of coping with the inevitable?  

I will drive myself insane trying to ascertain the answers to those questions. So I will rest on the assurance that God is here with me, that although I will get relief from only some troubles in this life, I will find relief from ALL troubles in the next life.  

"Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God.  I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness."  Isaiah 41:10

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