Monday, December 15, 2008


A trudge over this morning, another visit to the pharmacy to pick up stuff she forget to tell me about.
She looked so ill and grey I thought she might actually die.
Her breathing was shallow and she couldn't raise her head from the pillow.
I did the washing, the dishwasher and paid more bills and sat down while she slept.

At l o'clock she woke up with no memory whatsoever of anything that happened this morning.

She didn't remember the meals on wheels lady giving her a gift.
She didn't remember giving me the menu or asking me to fill it out because she couldn't lift a pencil.
She didn't remember me arriving at all.
She didn't remember me writing on the calendar who was coming to do the cleaning and what time.

She was so confused about all the housework being done that she stood in the middle of the kitchen and didn't know where to go or what to do.
So she decided to move the electric frypan, with one hand because she can't take both off the walker.

By the time my sister went across to check her tonight, she was back in rotten old bitch mode.
Hating everyone because she's not going to have the Christmas she wants.

I feel like Ingrid Bergman in 'Gaslight'.


antikva said...

Hugs for the crappy day today too, I hope tomorrow's better.

JahTeh said...

Don't worry Antikva, I did what any sensible person would do, went to the pub, drank a G&T and played the pokies for a while. (the 2 cent machine)

Now I'll have to deal with my mother and my sister who took umbrage at the vile thing Ma said to her.

Jayne said...

The movie Throw Mama from The Train inspired a lot of children....

Ampersand Duck said...

Don't want to alarm you, but she might have had a little stroke. My grandparents had a few of those, and they were little stepping stones to even more limited capacity and memory.

I hope you've recovered!

Kath Lockett said...

Oh Jah Teh, I'm so sorry it's come to this stage. I think tha tyou and your sister need to make 'the' decision about your mother. For all your sakes...?

Lord Sedgwick said...

"I feel like Ingrid Bergman in 'Gaslight'."

Sorry petal, but it sounds more like Ingmar Bergman's 'Through a Glass Darkly.".

(Minus all that Scandinavian oblique obscurity... I blame Max von Sydow!)

JahTeh said...

Hell, Jayne, she'd bounce straight back through an open window.

Duckie, don't be soft here, I'm looking for a bloody great big stroke. I thought I'd recovered but the brawl continues so I'm refusing to go near anybody on Christmas Day.

Kath, we can't do a thing. She's been assessed by ACAS and did better this time than the first time. She's not leaving the house except feet first so the only way to go is to turn her affairs over to the State Trustees which I could never do. Blame promises to dying fathers but I did promise. My sister would prefer to leave her to rot and my mother would like my sister to piss off except sis is in charge of the Depends supply. It's a war of attrition.

Good one, MiLord, showing off your intalecshul knolege of artyfarty fillums.
I like 'Gaslight' both American and English versions. The Australian version was the 12 months prior to my divorce.

River said...

This post made me feel a little sad for your mum, as well as you. At some level I think she realises she is "losing it" and the fear is making her angry.

JahTeh said...

River, you are quite right and we've known it for a long time. She cannot lose control for one second or everthing will collapse in her life. It doesn't make it any easier to cope with and my sister will not give her any leeway at all. Mind you, if it's physical nursing then she's right there but not with the controlling behaviour.

R.H. said...

Well has someone got power of attorney? Don't give her affairs to the State Trustees, they're profit-making fiends, worse than Telstra.

JahTeh said...

Rh, I've got PoA and you're right about the Trustees but it's usually just the threat that works, I'd never be able to do it.

F.G. Marshall-Stacks said...

I had to look it up on and this is what I got:

"Paula Anton (Ingrid Bergman) thinks she is losing her mind, just as she has lost the brooch her husband (Charles Boyer) gave her. Her new marriage is falling apart; she cannot go out lest she make another embarrassing scene. Is it the house? The house where her aunt, a famous and beautiful concert singer, had been murdered when the young Paula was actually in the house. What does her new husband, who plays the piano beautifully, do for a living? Nothing. Why does he go out every night and leave her alone, alone to fret and worry?"

Holy cow.

by the way, Antikva has Bought a HOUSE! what a christmas gift.

R.H. said...

The Trustees are total swine, really, once they get hold of someone's affairs they'll never let go.