Another morning, another argument. I always have to prod and cajole Mom into getting moving. Mom taking her sweet time getting her coat and shoes on to go to dialysis. One more cigarette. Watching TV. Insists we always leave at different times even though I have consistently gotten her out the door at 11:30 and on time to dialysis. I have to push a little to get her moving, I get frustrated. Then she says she never knows what mood I'm going to be in. Then it blows up and she is being a total a****** to me. Says I just make her feel bad and she didn't ask me to start staying here.
She was DYING before I started staying here. Her house was a mess, she wasn't eating or taking her meds properly, she was filthy and never changed out of dirty clothes, she was falling all the time and smacking her pretty little head, she wasn't doing home dialysis properly. I really thought she was going to die. I intervened. I got her appropriate medical care and home support. I cook, I clean, I do the laundry, I administer the meds. 75% of what I get pushy about is to keep her safe and healthy. Back in July, the renal team started talking to me about ending her dialysis and letting her die. She is way better now than she was, because I am here to care for her.
But I'm the evil one.
I know it's not her fault. I know she is not aware of even half the things she does or the way she behaves, or her mean mouth, or her snotty-teenager-meets-self-absorbed-4-year-old routine. Knowing barely helps at all. I have never been a patient person, as a way of going, and I am certainly not managing to find patience now.
Sometimes I think I should threaten to put her in a home and see if that calms her the **** down. At least if I'm going to be thought of as a b****, I should maybe start acting like one.