Well, things get much more real standing in front of them all, don’t they…?
I am back home with my parents and I am happy for it, but the reality of the past couple of years on my parents is a physical presence. My dad’s in-home physical therapy is mostly on hold, because my mom’s radiation leaves her too tired to do her side of the work. So, my dad spends his day in his wheelchair, which leaves him more sedentary than he should be to build the muscles he needs to walk again. He doesn’t often use his prosthetic; he gets too tired to stay on it when he does.
It all makes sense for their current situation, but it is frustrating to see how much it all slows down his recovery.
Fortunately, way back in 1972, my parents moved into a ranch-style home. The family room is down a step and there are basement steps, but everything else is all one level. Of course, for the requirements on ramps, they would have to eat up most of their front yard to build a ramp down the step on the front porch, so instead, they build a ramp just outside the door from the family room to the garage. That, of course, means an inside ramp to get the chair down into the family room, which needs to be moved constantly, because it blocks the door to the garage when it is down.
*whew*
I know…
My parents have a pretty good grip on the routine, even if my mother could use a bit more energy on a daily basis. As it turns out, the lump was never cancerous. At least, not yet. It was some type of erroneous cell grouping that would likely turn cancerous in the future. So, it is best to deal with it now and she is still finishing out the radiation…
One other thing is the loss of privacy in my parents house. My dad’s chair is only a half an inch narrower than the doorways, but the door itself blocks it if it cannot swing open a full half-circle, and in most cases, the doors in their house cannot do that… So the door to his bedroom and his office have been removed. And the layout of the house leaves little privacy in his room.
Tomorrow, dad needs to take part of his new-ish computer system to Microcenter for some installations. Mom plays bridge on Tuesdays, so I will be wrangling him into her vehicle (the roof on mine is two low for him to get into easily enough…) and driving him there. I am nervous about it. I don’t feel ready to be solely responsible for managing him in and out of the house and vehicle. And yet my mom does so on a daily basis, during her radiation treatments.
*sigh*
How did I become a caregiver? It seems so alien to me… I am the baby, the eternal eighteen-year-old that can never seem to decide what is best in his life. How could I possibly be responsible for the well-being of my parents…?
Of course, I will do it, and I will be fine in it, despite my discomfort and awkwardness, but the ill-ease about it will leave me feeling I am playing the part, and will trip up a stage of my imposter syndrome….
But, I will be fine. It is in my genes. Seriously. In the next week, I will likely make the typical year-end wrap-up posts so common around LJ. And, once again, mine will likely sound like the universe ganging up the shit pile on my family, but yet we withstand it all; we move on; we grow and survive and love each other through it all, even as we poke fun and tease in the process.
We are a sturdy stock, it would seem. The world cannot break our clan. We can only each of us do that on our own, and we stand stronger together… I suppose that is why I never begrudgingly return home for visits, even if I regress to my five year old self when I do so…
gryphon's hole 