My family is sick. Once again. My husband has a sinus infection and my daughter has tonsillitis. And me? Not really sick....just coughing that old asthma cough. I am hoping it doesn't worsen or turn into bronchitis again. The day before yesterday was my mom's 79th birthday. The initial plan was to have my daughter's boyfriend, my daughter and myself to go there to celebrate. However my daughter was too sick to go and her boyfriend was starting to feel the effects of this plague....however he was good enough to drive me there and then left me for my dad to bring me home.
It was good to see her. I don't know how many more birthdays my mom will have. She gets weaker and struggles more to breath every time I see her. And the older she gets, the more I want her to live. We have not always been on good terms....to put it mildly. But now things are better....as they worsen.
My mom had a hard time dealing with my diagnosis of SZ. What mom wouldn't? I guess it was especially hard because I'd always been at the head of every class and received one award after another. She most especially struggled with my cigarette habit and the way I smelled, unbathed, clothes unchanged and reeking of tobacco. And my new modus opporandi was not to be productive or reading new books or painting----instead I laid on my twin-sized bed in her sewing room which was what she converted my bedroom to when I moved out to college. I lay there from cigarette to cigarette (I had to smoke outside)
Now things are different. From 2007-2010 I was a mess again. But mom was somewhat distanced from that. Now I'm my own family's problem. Now my mom finally listened to me and got diagnosed as having RA and also Asthma/COPD. They finally listened to me and got a nebulizer. Now she is very ill struggling with A Fib (now has a pace maker), COPD and Pulmonary Fibrosis. I wish I had a chance to spend time with her these days---to help her in her garden and to hear about the family she never really talks about., my ancestors and relatives. I wish she could show Alexa how to use her space-age sewing machine. But my health doesn't permit me to drive there. Or to stand up at the sink or counters....or to squat and bend in the garden. So all of that is pipe dreams. All I can do now is chat with her on the phone until one of us starts coughing so hard we must stop.
A life of sadness, bad health and broken mind. A life of bitterness and anger. Two bodies that struggle to inhale and exhale. Lives of not knowing what the day will bring. Not knowing if there is be another day. I'm glad though that she seems to have accepted me and I do believe, as much as she can, that she loves me. And I love her. We do not know tomorrow. We give thanks for today. And for the rest? It is what it is.
It was good to see her. I don't know how many more birthdays my mom will have. She gets weaker and struggles more to breath every time I see her. And the older she gets, the more I want her to live. We have not always been on good terms....to put it mildly. But now things are better....as they worsen.
My mom had a hard time dealing with my diagnosis of SZ. What mom wouldn't? I guess it was especially hard because I'd always been at the head of every class and received one award after another. She most especially struggled with my cigarette habit and the way I smelled, unbathed, clothes unchanged and reeking of tobacco. And my new modus opporandi was not to be productive or reading new books or painting----instead I laid on my twin-sized bed in her sewing room which was what she converted my bedroom to when I moved out to college. I lay there from cigarette to cigarette (I had to smoke outside)
Now things are different. From 2007-2010 I was a mess again. But mom was somewhat distanced from that. Now I'm my own family's problem. Now my mom finally listened to me and got diagnosed as having RA and also Asthma/COPD. They finally listened to me and got a nebulizer. Now she is very ill struggling with A Fib (now has a pace maker), COPD and Pulmonary Fibrosis. I wish I had a chance to spend time with her these days---to help her in her garden and to hear about the family she never really talks about., my ancestors and relatives. I wish she could show Alexa how to use her space-age sewing machine. But my health doesn't permit me to drive there. Or to stand up at the sink or counters....or to squat and bend in the garden. So all of that is pipe dreams. All I can do now is chat with her on the phone until one of us starts coughing so hard we must stop.
A life of sadness, bad health and broken mind. A life of bitterness and anger. Two bodies that struggle to inhale and exhale. Lives of not knowing what the day will bring. Not knowing if there is be another day. I'm glad though that she seems to have accepted me and I do believe, as much as she can, that she loves me. And I love her. We do not know tomorrow. We give thanks for today. And for the rest? It is what it is.
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