My father is now in a long-term nursing facility but he's declining fast. I try to visit him several times a week but his hearing is starting to go and the conversation doesn't go anywhere. I try to offer him support and give him a smile but when I leave I feel so sad knowing that this is the end and I'm about to lose him (I'm the only family member and there's no support.)
In my own day to day routine, I just feel so sad. I don't want to say anything to the people who aren't close to me because I don't want to bring anyone down but I don't know how to lift myself out of this feeling. I've tried weekly trips to the spa, working out daily, an occasional candy bar, and try to spend more time reading positive affirmations on social media, than anything else. Therapist tells me I don't have clinical depression but instead tells me I'm just very sad. There's no medication for what I "have." How does everybody else who's going through the same thing get through this sad time in your life? I just don't know what to say or do anymore.
Mom and I followed a great daily schedule, and god bless her, she slept through the night, which meant I slept too. Was every day peachy, no. We had our arguments. When she developed a pressure ulcer during her hip surgery "rehab" at a local nursing home, I made it clear to the staff it was unacceptable. When she left there, I vowed I would do my best to never put her back there again. At least twice a day, I would put Calmoseptine on her behind to make sure she would not get a pressure ulcer under my watch. She was incontinent, so three times a day, I would help her change her pull-ups. I once asked her, Mom do you mind that I clean your behind. She replied, "Not at all."
Once a month, I took her to get her hair done, which was therapy for me and her. After, I would take a short video to ask her how she felt. The last one I took was two weeks before her death, so I can hear her voice and see that smile any time I want. She had a history of TIA's (mini-strokes), so I had to deal with the threat of that every day. Luckily, she could feed herself, so all I had to do was to ensure she had three good meals daily. She used a walker, and in her final year, she became more uneasy, so I would follow her with the wheelchair as she walked around the house. Always made sure she moved to another location every couple of hours to avoid the pressure ulcer issue. She rarely complained.
The day before she passed, she was not acting right. Very agitated. Called the ambulance to take her to the emergency room. She was diagnosed with a severe UTI. Dr. on call said she needed to stay overnight for treatment. Mom was not pleased and wanted to go home. I calmly told her the doctors were giving her medication to help her feel better, and I would be back in the morning and take her home then. That was the last time I spoke to her. I got the call early the next morning her condition had worsened. I rushed to her bedside and she was unconscious, but breathing on her own. I later found out after reviewing the notes written by the ER staff that Mom was very restless during the overnight hours when I was not there. My biggest regret was I did not stay with her during that period. I was with her all the time, except then. It might not have changed the outcome, but it will always trigger the "what if" thoughts.
She lived for a few more hours, so I held her hand, sang some songs, thanked her, and kissed her as slipped away. I was proud I was able to keep her in the home she and my Dad purchased decades ago, and honored I was with her as she completed the journey to the sunset of her life. I kept her clean, well-fed, warm, and comfortable. Everyone involved in her medical care has told me what a wonderful job I did as her cargiver. I am now on my own journey to find employment in my late 50's.
Being a caregiver is an emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting job. The hardest job I've ever had. Only those that have been one can truly understand how draining, but in some cases, like mine, how rewarding it can be. I miss my Mom, but I know I did my best, and the wonderful memories I have of her will hopefully help me overcome my feelings of sadness.
So sorry for your loss 🙏🏼
You’re lucky you didn’t have a mother with dementia..it makes if much more difficult. It wouldn’t have been just one day of agitation…but many with just as many sleepless nights. Many times my mother hits, punched, scratched, threw mouthwash in my eyes. Not to mention her occasional hallucinations that her room is on fire 🔥 & she’ll try to escape the bed.
Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Good luck in finding employment. Hugs 🤗
My mother at 91 is in SN. She has a very serious bedsore that I have been told by an infectious disease doctor can never heal. She cannot walk or stand due to a previous septic infection. She was dropped by an aide ( immediately fired ) and both her femurs were broken. This brought on the bedsore which is treated daily but very severe.
It is very sad each time I visit her. There are many residents in better physical condition but far more mentally gone than my mother. She keeps asking when the bedsore will heal. I dance around the issue. She does not recall the conversation we had right after the visit with the doctor.
If you could find some form of exercise for yourself that may give you some positive feelings. It would be best if it were a class or appointment outside of your house therefore being a commitment you need to follow through with. I do this myself and I know I feel better after.
We can't change the reality of a loved one's terminal diagnosis. When I visit my mother I bring her a Starbucks drink and some reading material. That brings her pleasure.
I lost my father at 82. His final days while very serious did not linger too long. I still miss him. I just have to accept that his end was indeed a reality and there was not prolonged suffering.
Then pour your heart out to Him. He has walked your walk before so He knows what you are going through.
If possible do this in nature as it will relax you more.
It works for me no matter what the situation.