July...

Every year at this time, Mom had melt-downs. Major melt-downs. They were bad and I dreaded the entire month.  Looking back, I'm guessing that she was having panic attacks. They had very real symptoms that could not be ignored. We often spent hours in the ER. 

July was a month of loss for Mom. As a young woman she lost her sister. Later, she lost her father. Then in 2001 she faced the horrible loss of her youngest son whose birthday was the 26th (one day after hers). Less than a year later she lost a second son the day before her birthday. Definitely a month of loss.

The month usually started with overall sadness and tears. As it progressed, she would have chest pains and headaches. I would find her rocking on the couch, holding her head, screaming that she had never felt pain this bad before. I would call 911 and off we would go. Nothing was ever diagnosed. She was always released a few hours later.

The strange part was that she always knew. When the Alzheimer's became so bad that she didn't know what day it was, much less the month, she knew. The tears would start. The panic set in. The symptoms weren't as severe, but she knew.

Here it is, Mom's birthday. I miss my my brothers terribly. They were the ones who brought so much laughter (and so much more) to my now splintered family. And, I can finally say that I miss my mom. The last few years of caring for her are becoming a fading memory. The harsh, sharp edges are softening. No more horrible days for her. July can't hurt her anymore.

July brings me peace.

The Octopus...

My experience as a caregiver ended almost 3 years ago, although it feels like yesterday. Yesterday, because I am still fighting my way out of the destruction. Alzheimer's disease does not care or give favor to anyone. If your family comes in contact with the disease, you become part of the destruction. I have come to think of it as an evil octopus, whom I call Al. Al tries to suck the life out of you. If you are quick enough to start your escape and begin to heal, there is another tentacle attaching itself to you.

There are eight arms on my metaphoric creature:  Faith, Finance, Self worth, Guilt, Anger, Relationships, Health, and Exhaustion. Each one is powerful by itself, but are more effective when they attack the victim in unison, or in pairs. A few are strike and go types of fighters. My faith was attacked, but is strong. My wounds caused by my guilt have mostly healed. Anger has left some healthy scar tissue of acceptance. I've accepted that the relationship that I lost will remain that way.

That leaves a battle with the remaining four- finance, health, self worth and exhaustion. It is so difficult to move ahead when I can't financially provide for my family, when my daughter is supporting us because I can't find a job. That, in turn, leads to a feeling of uselessness. My health is suffering. And here comes exhaustion. That damned Al just leaked all over me with his hidden power and it feels so dark.

I am just so tired of it all. I'm tired of pretending its all okay.

Am I being dramatic? Probably. But, I'm also being realistic. I don't want pity. This is just a continuation of the journey and I need to continue until the story is complete.

Al sucks.