My mother is one of the most miserable humans on Earth, and has been for years. Whenever anyone has asked her "How are you doing?", for as far back in my memory as I can reach, I can never remember her saying "I'm fine". Now she's smoked herself to death. She has COPD, CHF, steroid-induced diabetes, a colostomy, osteoporosis, bone spurs in her neck, neuropathy in her limbs, brittle skin that tears at the drop of a hat...the list seems endless. She refuses to get out of bed to try to exercise to keep up any strength, and wants me to do more and more and more for her.
She's in the hospital right now because of a fall last week. She says her knees gave out.
I don't think it's so horrible that I just want this woman to finally have some peace, and yes, honestly, for the rest of us around her to have some as well. The discord and disharmony this narcissist spreads with her always ALWAYS negative attitude takes a toll. She will never change, and her health will only continue to go downhill.
I realize that I don't get to make the decision of when she goes, but I will admit that I do want her to. I think it's the only way she'll finally be "fine".
To get to my point, NO, don't feel guilty about wanting your mom to go....When God is ready he/she will take her. Just pray for peace and no pain....
If possible consider Hospice care ---It was the best decision I ever made for her.
Southernyank, sorry to hear the nurse notice some signs of Ad. You are in my prayers.
but now she is in the nursing home all of us have had some peace of mind and can enjoy our visits with her. I had surgury at the beginning of this year and couldnt drive for 3 months. mom didnt even realize that i had not been there.
i also have wished that God would take her out of her misery but really she is no more miserable than she had been before the dementia.
but in the home she is safer and has the care she needs and we have peace of mind. we also know the worst is to come and pray we can handle it when she doesnt know who we are.
God will take her when her time on earth is done and not a moment earlier. this disease has brought us kids more together than we were ever allowed to be growing up. so some good has come of it. Just love your parents as long as you can.
To some it sounds horrible to wish death on a parent or loved one. But, I don't feel guilty over these feelings. I feel this way because I love her so damn much.
My Mother had many of the illnesses and challenges the original poster's Mom had and more. There were times when I prayed to God to take her. Her suffering was unbearable for her and I can't describe how seeing my Mom go through what she did... how it affected me. Still affects me.
I did the best I could for her. I was there for her. I tried to make her as comfortable and happy as possible.
That's all anyone can do. It's OK to wish peace for someone you love when you see them suffering so. The guilt that comes with the wish for an ending to suffering ... IGNORE it. You are doing right. Your heart is in the right place.
Anyone that watches a loved one suffer and doesn't care. That's the scary picture. That's the person that should feel guilty.
I miss the weasels a whole lot more.
If you don't like ferrets, they do have one big thing in common with other animals: they don't judge; they can't give so-called constructive criticism; they'll never call you a "weirdo..." (Ninety percent of anything you may have heard about ferrets being mean or dangerous to people is urban legend; eight percent due to their owners' not knowing how to train or handle them; two percent applies to the rest of the domestic corner of the animal kingdom).
I always knew I'd feel some sadness at Mum's passing, despite knowing it'd bring much relief, because a) her abuse was "only" because of mental disorder(s) rather than evil, and c) nobody should have to be in the position to look forward to a parent's passing.
I'm not sure it's possible to be a long-term caregiver for a loved one and never have that feeling zing through one's mind, especially during times of stress or when the elder/disabled person is abusive.
On the other hand, I miss him terribly. :(
My family takes care of both Mom & Dad. Dad tries a lot harder to be independent, and he is cheerful and appreciates our help (most of the time). Mom is cranky and nasty and verbally abusive.
You do NOT owe your mother your life, no matter what she says.
In another post I mentioned that my mom had fallen and broken a femur. She went to the hospital, then into a rehab facility. She ended up falling at the rehab center and breaking her wrist, and got sent back to the hospital, was treated for an infection and the wrist, then sent back to rehab. And that's where she's been as of 5 p.m. tonight.
I'll be honest. The time, about two weeks now, that my mom has been away in the hospital/rehab has been the most peaceful I've known in years. After 10 years, I feel I've done right by my mom. She has everything she could want or need, she's clean, her clothes are fresh, her room is fresh and clean, her bedding is crisp, I cook great meals for her that are delicious and healthy, I wait on her, running back and forth all day and night getting her this or that, or whatever. If she gets up, which is almost constantly, I have to get up, too, or God knows what she'll do or get into. I'm like the cat in a room full of rocking chairs when she's around. From early in the morning, till late at night, sometimes on into the next morning, she needs or wants something, always something, and I can't relax. I can't rest. I can't sleep. I can't get out of this house. My ass hasn't warmed a chair for more than 5-10 minutes at a time in as long as I can remember. She literally is calling for someone, or needs something, every few minutes. The times she's fallen were when I was either in the shower, or in bed asleep. For a long time I associated sleep with bad things happening, and then I found I couldn't freaking sleep even if I wanted to. Every single second, of every single day, is spent watching out for my mother so she doesn't do something stupid or dangerous, or trying to figure out what in the world she wants. One night she called me out of bed 4 times, all for trivial things, like needing one extra ice cube in her drink. Or, waking me up to get her a yogurt at 2 a.m. As I said, it's literally always something. It never, ever ends. My days are just a blur. Half the time I don't even know what day it is, if it's a week day or a weekend. I'm so exhausted and fuzzy that I wake up that way and stay that way. I can't remember the last time I actually felt energized.
Did I mention the screaming and wailing we all get to listen to at least several times a week? Before, I could kind of interpret what my mom was saying, or trying to say, even when her alzheimers and dementia started getting really bad. Now, it's so bad that I literally can't make heads or tails out of what my mom is trying to get at. It's simply pure gibberish, with a word or two here and there that I'll catch and understand, but that's about it. I try my best to be patient, I mostly just stand there and listen, maybe give her a nudge or prompt once and awhile, but anymore it's almost impossible for me to get it. And when she realizes that I can't understand, she flips her lid. She will sob, loudly, and wail, and moan, and scream...she can, I swear, keep that up for 2-3 days at a time. She just won't...stop. Off and on, all day, all night, she's yelling, and wailing at the top of her lungs, or she sits there moaning and crying, and I swear it literally sounds like someone being tortured. I cringe just thinking about it right now. There is no place I can go to get away from it. One night I couldn't stand it anymore and I ended up going outside and walking up the street. Our windows were cracked and I could here her up the drive way. It's insane. By the time she's done with one of those jags...and there are usually at least a couple a week...I'm wiped out. I'm so edgy it feels like I'm going to come out of my skin any second. I can't sit still, I'm anxious, nervous, and utterly and totally miserable. I'm so far in the dark sometimes after having to deal with that mess that it feels like I will never know anything light, or joyful, or pleasant, or anything at all peaceful, ever again. At those times I feel so trapped, I feel such a sense of desperation to REMOVE myself from the situation it's ungodly. And I have no place to run. I have to do this. There isn't anyone but me. And I loath every single second of it.
I'm sitting here thinking of my mom coming home again when rehab is done, and I'll be honest. I feel a dread that I can't find words for. I feel like I want to run screaming into the night at the thought of it. I want to curl into a little ball and beg whatever powers that be not to torture me anymore, I've done my 'duty' for 10 years, I'll be good, I promise, just please, please, please, please, don't make me do this again... I feel like I should be gibbering in a corner somewhere, babbling in total panic at the mere thought of it. I can't do justice to this kind of dread with words. And that's sad as hell. But there it is. I don't want to deal with my mother anymore, not for one more minute of one more day. This whole situation has twisted me so badly I'm worried I won't ever recover. The person that walked into this damn sure isn't the person that'll walk out of it.
Do I want my mom to die? Sometimes. Yeah. Because doing what's right for her has cost me. Right now, this minute, with my house quiet and peaceful and beautiful for the first time in ages, thinking of how it's going to be when my mom comes back here makes me shudder and cringe. It's absolutely unbearable. I honestly don't want to deal anymore. I want to get ON with my LIFE. That life I gave up, that life I'd like to live, instead of just freaking exist in, because that's all I'm doing. I'm not even human anymore. I'm just an extension of this old woman that's my mother, a convenient extra hand and pair of legs to run around and cater to her many, many, never ending needs. I don't need a name, I don't need a face, I don't need brains, I don't need to talk, I don't need to do a goddamn thing except do for my mother, day in, day out, year after endless year. You think I want to go BACK to that? I'd be a liar if I said I did. No, I don't necessarily want my mother to die, although why she'd want to live when she's never been the least bit pleased with anything, or satisfied or happy with anything, is beyond me, but I just don't want to be the one that has to deal with her. I don't want to do this anymore. I will NEVER do this again, not for anyone, unless it's one of my sons. I'm afraid of people now. Why? Because I'm scared to death they're going to TAKE even more of me somehow. Crazy, I know. But I've had one toe over the line into crazy for a long time now. This has taken so much out of me I don't know if I'll ever have a single thing to ever give to anyone again. And that's pretty sad, too, but there it is. I just want my part in this to be over. Am I selfish? Oh yeah. I feel very, very selfish. And I really don't care at this point. I simply want to take care of MYSELF for a change. In the peace and quiet. Yeah, baby. Peace and quiet. There's nothing more beautiful. Especially when you don't have any. lol
We got the call he'd passed and I WAS SHOCKED.
Why? I had begun to think my beloved daddy wasn't going to get to die! I was closest to him and I knew how bad he longed to just go to his 'long home,' as they say. He'd often said he wasn't going to take his meds so he could hurry it up but knowing the suffering he would endure waiting for the end with a chest full of fluid, he could never do it. He had been a proud and strong man who doted on my mom and never let any do anything for him if he could possibly do it for them, instead. We watched him shrink away in body and spirit.
So, that night, when my mom arrived at my house down the street to go to the hospital together, she and my (now ex) husband were hugging in sorrow in the living room and I was impatiently waiting in the hallway, coat in hand, ready to go wish my dad GODSPEED and celebrate (inwardly) with his own spirit that now he was finally free to 'fly away' home.
I know they thought it a little strange that I did not cry. How could I cry on such a happy occasion as the end of my brave father's misery?
Of course I cried at times later on, and missed him terribly...something which was alleviated when I moved back home to take care of my mom...since his spirit is here with us, I know...but the night he died, I thanked GOD with all my heart for finally taking mercy upon him and taking him away from something that was no longer a life.
I'm a registered nurse (not licensed since I don't work except to take care of my mom) and I worked mostly in geriatrics and medical (chronic and terminal illnesses). There are things far worse than dying as many of us already know.
I speak from a good and loving experience and frankly have no first hand experience of the sort that so many of you wonderful kindred spirits here have had to endure through dysfunction, narcissism, and all the rest of Pandora's box...but I will say with all honesty that I don't see anything wrong with having a desire to see the end that kind of existence, either. Someone who has spent a lifetime making those they are supposed to love and support instead miserable, confused, and resentful, can't really be living, either. I think, in fact, that it must be far worse than spending 3 years dwindling away from CHF or similar...it lasts a lifetime and it must be a painful lot of years to endure...although in a way not as bad because surely they don't even realize they are miserable if they have never been satisfied or content with life. They have nothing to compare it to.
Dying is not the antithesis of living but rather just a phase in continuing existence and depending on what one believes, can actually be a reprieve and a chance to possibly do it again in a different way...or not...at any rate the end of misery is not something to cry over, imo, no matter the circumstance.
Now I'm a primary CG in stress I hope I never get that way.