Back to Jan 2018 & our big event. The big stroke that struck Mum like lightning & destroyed her independance. It transformed Dad from a husband to a full-time carer. No choices there.
But I fully consciously choose to step up & assist as much as possible with the care needs of my sister, to help us all. (She has a triple disability situation).
The frog that jumped into the pot of cold water. Every week the temperate warmed up until this Jan I had to jump out to save my life before I boiled to death. Overly dramatic maybe... but it's how I feel.
Wow what a year! I've learned much. Some things have pleasantly surprised me too. How quickly Dad solved problems, arranged support & is flying along, good humour intact.
My sister however did not learn to fly. Did not crumple without their daily care, but instead just turned her gaze from them to me for all responsibility to manage her life. So I tried. Appointments, organisation, personal care, groceries. A black hole of needs. No end. Lift one leg into the car one day, then two are requested the next, then arms required to be pulled out. Jan this year was when assistance for toilet cleanup now expected by me (although independent when alone).
Time to quit. Is this burnout?