Lost. That's what my mom seems to be right now. I haven't posted in about a week because things have been in semi-crisis mode here at the Casa.
This past Tuesday, my mom was in the kitchen with Chickenhead when she fell. She didn't hit her head, but when the Husband got to her, she did not know who she was, where she was, or even that she had fallen. She did not remember that she lived with us. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital, and my MIL came and picked me up from work. When I got to the ER, Mom still wasn't sure where she was, why she was there, what year it was, etc. Scans and tests were done, but none of them showed any sign of a mini-stroke.
The rest of the week has been a blur of hospital visits, making phone calls, copies of important papers, etc. On Wednesday when I went to see Mom, her physical therapist recommended a short-term stay at a nursing and rehab facility, to help Mom regain her strength. At first, I was in a panic. Growing up, my mom always said that she never wanted to be in a nursing home. Nursing homes were a place where you went to die, in her mind. But I knew that she would not get the care that she needs right now if she came back home. There was just no way we could do it.
Once I calmed down a bit, I spoke at length with the hospital social worker. She made everything so easy for us. She gave me a list of nursing/rehab centers that took Medicare, and got me in touch with someone who got Mom's application for Medicare taken care of.
The biggest issue in the past few days is Mom's increasing confusion. At times, she is unable to distinguish the difference between reality and her dreams or even a television show. One moment she will be completely lucid and coherent, fifteen minutes later, she doesn't know where she is, and is convinced that they are doing construction at the hospital in the middle of the night.
I can't begin to explain how troubling it is to see my mom, a once formidable woman, now at times child-like and unaware of her surroundings. Part of me wants to just sit down and cry, part of me wants to sit down and drink, and part of me wants her to just be the same woman who's driven me crazy for the past 41 years.
All I know right now, is that the woman I have always known as my mom, is not here. And I feel lost, too.