Why we do the things we do.....

Ok people... I only have two followers... get off your asses.. get a google account and become a follower.  Make me feel loved for gawd sakes!

http://www.nia.nih.gov/Alzheimers/Publications/adfact.htm

I just found this website last nite.   It's a decent one, giving actual facts that are easy to understand.  According to the Internet (which isn't always the most reliable source) roughly between 2.4 and 5.3 million Americans are currently suffering from Alzheimer's related dementia.   (sorry, I do not have the Canadian numbers this morning).   The reason for the vast difference in the numbers is that alot of the time, the person does not get diagnosed, officially, with the disease.  The health care system being the way that it is in the US, alot of people slip through the cracks, never being diagnosed OR treated for the disease.   I really find this heartbreaking and unthinkable.... that a human being can have this disease, live with it for many years, and not have the medication and/or medical resources needed to be cared for properly.   It actually boggles my mind.

I know there are a lot of you out there, that know me and my situation, who don't quite understand why I have chosen to care for Mum @ home.   Believe me, I understand your questions.   I rant alot, I'm stressed out, I complain, I bitch, I'm tired..........   but it's a choice I have made mainly due to many contributing factors.  Some I am able to explain easily, others I am not.
First of all, she was my mother.  Unconventional, quirky, always a hint of a little crazy (let me stress a GOOD crazy) but when the chips fell, a good mother.  When I tell stories of my childhood, they are fundamentally good stories, happy stories and for that, I am eternally grateful to her.   I feel like I am not near as good of a mother to my children, as she was to me.   That may be a off-tilt view, but it's how I see things.
I am aware that I had a very co-dependant relationship with my Mother.   As I grew older, the co-dependency increased.   We went from a mother-daughter relationship to more of a mother-daughter-confident-friend relationship, if that makes any sense.   I spoke to her every day, sometimes numerous times during the day.   I never went a full day without calling her, or answering her call.  When I was still working, I had 8-8:30am blocked off on my calendar, every day, to take her call.  I actually moved meetings when I could, or worked around this half hour slot, just so I could take that call.  We discussed everything, good and bad.   Mum knew everything about my life, and I knew everything about hers.   We both harbour many of each other's secrets, dreams, disappointments, mistakes, regrets and triumphs....... alot of which we will both take to our graves.  :)
My Mum got me out of more bad situations, mistakes, relationships, jobs, financial crunches.....  she just saved me alot.  
When I was 16 years old, and not being the easiest teenager, we started to go for coffee at Peter Jianopolous's Dad's cafe (He was a kid in my class..... nice kid.....)  It was a greasy little spoon down on front street, in between the book store and the dollar store.   It was a long and dark cafe, with Naugahyde benches and really cheesy decor.  We would meet there , sit and have coffee and lunch and talk.   It became our "place" and we continued to go there well after I had moved away from home,, when I would return on weekends and/or holidays.  Eventually, we stopped going there, and a few years passed and then one time when I was home, during one of Dad's many emergency illness', I took Mum there for lunch.  We sat in our booth, we re-connected with Peter's Mum and sister (who ran the greasy spoon) and it was then that Mum sat across from me and cried and cried, because she didn't think that Dad was going to survive this latest bout of illness.  She was truly terrified about her future.  Now, looking back, that would make Mum around 68 and she was probably experiencing alot of symptoms of the mild stages of AD.  She confided that she could not survive without my father, and that she had absolutely no idea what she would do, where she would live etc.  She did know that she did not want to live without her husband.  At that moment, I realized that she was completely dependant on my father.  I didn't know about the Alzheimer's yet, but the symptoms must have been showing by now, and I now realize she was absolutely terrified at the thought of being alone, without my Dad.  At this point, I had two children, under the age of 3.  I  lived in a very small house, semi-detached and we were already cramped.  But I offered her to come and live with me, told her that she would always have a space with us and that she would always be welcome.   This next part is funny, because she flatly refused and said that if she was going to be left alone, and forced to live with anyone, it would be the wisest choice to move out west with my brother.  In a single sentence, she shot me down.    Looking back at this, I am only just able to begin to understand why she said that, because it's what Dad wanted for her.   After all, with Dad, it was all about his three boys....... they always came first.
Of course that all changed, and as Dad deteriorated, and he got worse, and it became clearly apparent that he was never leaving that hospital......  Mum came to live with me.  By this time we had moved, into a bigger house, still not big enough to house us all, but bigger than the last.   And so it began.......  the ripple of events that followed to bring us where we are today.   

Yes, co-dependant..... that is the best way to describe my relationship, earlier on,  with my mother.   Now the dependency is basically a one way street, but that's ok.  That's my decision.  But now you know a little more about why I chose this route.   because of the woman she once used to be.....but also because of the woman she has become.   My Mum.... the one that raised us, would probably have refused all and any care offered to here.......   Now?  Marjorie NEEDS all the care and support she can get, as she cannot function without it. 
So when I'm bitching, griping and being mean about Marjorie, please remember that I really loved my Mum, and I'm doing this for her.   I wonder if this made sense?