A small life

It occurred to me yesterday that Mom has had a small life...a small territory bordered by her anxiety, her paranoia ...her fears.  It breaks my heart to see her now so diminished.  Her world is so small...the nursing home....her room there shared with two others..the dining room.  Sitting in her wheelchair watching the activity around her but barely able to participate. 

Her hearing is now almost gone.  Her appetite is still fairly good even though she complains bitterly that the food is terrible.  Her favorite meal seems to be breakfast.  Lunches and dinners are not that good.  She has gained some weight back, but is upset about it.

I wash some of her sweaters and bras on a regular basis.  I bring her candy or cookies...of pictures of my family.  She cries every time I leave...saying over and over "I love you so".  She wants to come live with us, but we are not set up for someone in a wheelchair.  Everytime I leave, I feel myself gasping for my own inner balance.  Each visit takes a little more out of me.

I promised Dad that I would take care of Mom ....and that is what I am doing.  It has been over 5 years now since his death.  I visit Mom every Tuesday and Thursday evening ....and Sunday morning.  The weeks since she was first admitted go by one after the other.  She has been taken off hospice care...she has improved.  My guess is that she is actually doing better with people around her 24 hours a day looking after her.

This is a long and slow descent.  I am going to need to pace myself because she is not going down easy...despite her wish to die sooner rather than later.

It is a small life...it has always been a small life...I am her witness.