Grief is a real motherfucker. As I texted one of my best friends the other day, some therapist is going to have a really great fucking time “unpacking” all my grief, whenever I get around to seeing someone. And, if they use the word “unpacking” when talking to me about what all I’ve gone through with my ma, I think I’ll deck them. But yes, I do still have my sense of humor – laughter is the best medicine after all and who cares if that’s cliché to say. Cliché can be fun.

Tomorrow, May 16, will be five months since I had an intervention with my ma at her home in Cherry Valley and started on this health and medical journey with her, with multiple hospital visits, moving her to Arizona, getting her lots of medical help includind a large list of doctors and specialists, rehab with physical and occupational therapists, an awesome new apartment at an assisted living community, the works…only to have her recently on May 1 decide to throw in the towel and be done. And by done I mean she decided to stop taking meds and receiving on-going treatment and just call it quits. Enter hospice and end of life arrangements. 

A huge part of me is mad as hell since I never wanted her to give up or thought she would but I’m also equal parts sad as hell that I have no idea how she really feels, how depressed she really is to think there’s no way out but to be done and that she’s likely relieved to have made the ultimate decision to stop trying and go back to not being a burden to me and our family.

Ironically her decision is a huge burden and everything we’ve gone through together has been a burden BUT as shitty as it’s been, I’ve been dealing with it all as best I can and I was really happy to see her progress and that she started getting healthier. Having her give up felt like a pretty big fuck you to the last five months but there’s no way but forward now. 

Aside from all the negative feelings that came rushing to me with her decision, there’s also a lot of positive feelings from it too. I’m relieved to not have to be the bad guy any more, barking reminders at her about all the things she needs to keep doing to get better and stronger. It was like having a three year old again, reminding her to eat more protein, brush her teeth, keep up with her exercises, ask for help to get to the bathroom before she had an accident and so much more. Now I can hangout with her and do my best to be there for her and enjoy her company in her final days. We can drink lots of Dr. Pepper, eat junk food and garbage, watch TV and just be together. 

It wasn’t exactly the way I pictured finally having my mom living in Arizona but it’s so much better than her not being here. There’s relief in knowing she’s ten minutes from my house. There’s relief in knowing she’s getting really great and over-priced care. There’s relief in knowing that I did everything I could to help her.  My only regret is that I didn’t sign her up to see a therapist that may have been able to help and give her a more positive outlook on her health…along with some happy pills that could have been the difference in her giving a shit again…or just more of the same and adding to the long list of meds she didn’t want to take. All the nurses and some of the doctors were good about helping keep her spirits up, along with me being a drill sergeant and hammering home that she’s doing great and improving. Because she truly was, even if she didn’t feel like it. There were physical signs of improvement – I just couldn’t see or help her mentally.

And, just when I think I can’t cry any more, more tears show up – that grief, like I said, is a real bitch. I was watching a movie last weekend and one of the characters who had lost her husband said there was no timeline on grief, that she just hadn’t been ready to take her wedding band off yet or allow herself to be open to finding someone new. That pretty much sums up how I’ve felt about my ma. Grief is here to stay for the foreseeable future and I’m mostly equal parts mad and sad with a lot of anxiety and stress sprinkled throughout. I’m trying my best to not dwell on the current situation and focus on remembering all the good. Remembering how great my ma was and that she was larger than life and not the shell of herself laying in a hospital bed.  So here’s to my ma and being the best there ever was to raise me into the take-no-shit-nearly-50-year-old that I am. I hope I’ve been able to return the favor by being the best caregiver and daughter to her. 

P.S. Sooner than later I swear I’ll start writing again about TV shows and movies and end all this depressing shit. BUT, thanks, all three of you, for continuing to read my rambles, no matter the content.