Everytime I phone my mom these days I have to hear how she was up from four in the morning because of her IBS and she was on toilet or the caregiver had to come clean her cause she messed in her bed or her adult diapers is almost finished or she fell again in her room. We can't just have a normal conversation anymore. Its always about 'sh*t' excuse me for saying it like this. But it really is all she talks about. I just don't want to phone or go there anymore because we always have words. I do phone and I do go to her but I dread it.
Now on to your real question. You and I share alike that we are not in direct care of the ones we love, here. Someone else is. And that's why we have the strength to raise our heads and even contemplate anything today at all. And yes, I agree with you. What was once one of the most treasured relationships in my life is now utterly changed. Unhappiness, discontent, a bit of paranoia, physical difficulties, anxiety have stolen the person from me who I once counted on to hear my occasional whine about life's vagaries. In place of that person is someone who is to be truthful much more self centered, dealing with enough depression that mine doesn't figure, and in need of my help with all finances, and etc.
So what was once supportive and fun for me is now something approached with dread, and my poor brain suffers and stutters to try to find a way to disengage from what has become all consuming in my life. I try to train it "It isn't about Dee right now; it is about ME; let it go; let it GO; nothing is happening in this second." But my brain lives in dread of the next shoe to drop approaching.
I know exactly where you are. Helpless and beset. You cannot do anything. The person you knew is gone. Another person is there and this new person has NEEDS you could not conceivably take care of your best day.
My next trip is upcoming. I am a sister, so I am close in age, now 77; I no longer love to fly anywhere. Wish we could share a hug. Instead, on we go. Do try to give your poor mind what relief you can provide to it.
1) A physical complaint
2) A very long verbally abusive insult
3) A combination of the above.
This is despite the fact that I visit almost everyday.
I try to disengage....I try to "think of her as just another patient" but to tell you the truth...I dread visiting home, I dread calling too.
My grandparents weren't this troublesome....why did my mom have to get dementia ! I could tolerate the physical complaints if they weren't peppered with insults.
Is she with it enough to tell her you do not like talking about this topic? Interrupt and nicely say (every day if necessary), Mom - I know you are having a problem in this department. I don't like talking about poop. Did I tell you that Suzy is pregnant??
EVERY time I see my mother-in-law, she has to tell me how effective the pro-biotic I got her is. The timeline, the results, etc. She's still with it (for the most part, at 93!) so I plug my ears and jokingly say "lalalala I can't hear you" to try to get her to stop.
Mom lived with me. I got tired of hearing about poop too. It just goes along with the territory for a lot of the elderly.
If she had diarrhea, which she referred to as ‘the runs’ she would say I gave it to her by whatever I cooked! If she was constipated she would blame me for causing it because I served her the wrong food.
But then in her passive aggressive way, she would say that she ‘loved my cooking!’
When I would ask her, “Well, what food would you like to eat today? You pick so I won’t be blamed for giving you diarrhea.” She would say to me, “Oh, anything you give me is fine.”
Okay, I would go into the kitchen to make a nice lunch and bring it to her. Guess what she would say to me? “Do you have leftovers from what we had yesterday? I’d like that again.” It was so good. I replied by saying, “Well, I fixed this lunch because you told me that gave you diarrhea.”
My Lord! In my house there was no getting around this topic. It was crazy.
She was tough on me. She was never happier than if she saw me busy, busy, busy cooking and cleaning. If I claimed to be tired she equated it with not caring, a bad attitude or being lazy. The anxiety levels rise so high with some elderly that they have no patience. They are old and I observed mom living in the moment because they know their days are coming to an end. The elderly can become obsessive.
Kind of sad. I can empathize with those feelings of knowing that there are more days behind them than ahead. Hell, I am turning 64 this month and I catch myself thinking that the majority of my life has been lived and there aren’t as many years ahead.
They have no clue how exhausting it is emotionally and physically to be a full time caregiver or equally as hard to take care of our own needs, such as work full time, care for our own families, plus tend to a parent in their home or a facility. Yes, it’s all hard and we do get tired of the same conversations about poop! Lots of pee conversations too.
The over abundance of poop talk effected me so deeply that if a friend started telling me the slightest details of an upset stomach I would tell them, “I love you. You’re my friend but I simply can’t discuss poop. I am over my quota on that topic!” Hahaha They understood and unlike an elderly person would change the subject.