A weekend to remember

What a weekend that went by, in fact what a crazy two weeks. My entire family became violently ill and weathered the projectile mess that came with it. With only one hospitalizations ( my little 26 lb girl), I think we faired rather well. More surprisingly was how my mother handled it. Thankfully she was the last one to obtain this dreaded virus-a full week went by before she was infected. My father, husband, children, and myself had all recovered and we were washing our hands of this horrid little bug when all of a sudden, the phone rings. Mom mentions her stomach was acting up and that was it. Complete draining of all fluids out of all areas. Dad to the rescue-he is off and ready to maintain his battle station. It took me until Friday to convince her to finally bath (two entire weeks, plus a horrid illness and still no bath...)

So Friday night: I arrive ready to clean Mom, bedding, and room. We start by stripping the bed and setting a load in the washing machine. Mom had difficulty understanding what we were doing. She kept asking what we were working on. Once the wash was going, my mom started to get nervous because her bed no longer looked right. After five minutes of explaining that the bedding was being washed, I convinced her to go to the bathroom. For those of you who have never bathed your mother, I tell you it is the most difficult thing the first few times. After awhile, you start to bathe her as you would a child. I still have difficulty scrubbing her, but you do what you have to do. I strip her down and help her into the tub-she now has depth perception issues and does not understand how to lift her legs. She does not understand directional concepts either so getting in and out of the bath proves rather difficult. Did I mention that she experiences extreme sensory input so the slightest touch sends her screaming in agony. Try to help someone that cannot stand to be touched.... Into the bath she goes and for the first time all night I see her face unclench and relaxation settling in. I let her and I enjoy the moment, trying to chit chat with sporadic mutters of this thing and that thing. Thankfully, her "things" are decipherable especially since her favorite topic is anything on Fox News. Time to wash her. Each time we bathe I have to explain why we wash. She tells me she has never washed in certain places and no matter how many times I mention that it is a sanitary must, she argues continuously. Next comes the shaving-boy do I tremble at the thought-Last bath session she wanted all hair to disappear-I mean all hair. That is one thing I don't think I will ever be able to repeat-EVER. Thankfully, I only need to shave legs and underarms. Finally, the hair washing. I slowly pour water over her head careful to keep it out of her eyes. I tell her to look up but no understanding of the concept. Shampoo and conditioner-so far no water in the eyes. We finish and it is time to get out of the bath. Unfortunately, my mother can sit down but takes ten minutes to figure out how to rise.

A unique thing this week, I realize that my mother is losing her ability to sense urination. As she is being dried off, she notices "water" dripping from her. I mention that maybe she needs to sit down to use the toilet. She does and fully relives herself. I position her clothing and help her put on one item at a time. Bath is done!!!!!!!!!

We pick out a movie and settle down on a freshly made bed with a freshly cleaned mom. This weeks show: Head over Heels. The movie viewing went well and was very enjoyable. Finally, the worst part of the night-getting ready to leave. She decided to read the Bible with me so we pick out John 2. She attempts to read a word or two and starts screaming and crying. Completely distraught over her disease and wishing she would die. My heart breaks for her to see her like this.

On to Saturday: All day I try to convince Mom to let me cook Chicken soup Homemade. She refuses and states she is not hungry. Knowing better, I do not make the soup. As I decide to take the family to the park my phone begins to ring. Mom calls to say she is hungry and wants the chicken soup that takes four hours to make. I call Dad-find some chicken soup from some restaurant. Thankfully, my aunt has just made veggie soup and with a little tweaking, it becomes chicken, rice, and veggie soup. I leave my husband and little girl at the park and jump into the van with my son. Arrival at Grandma's to pick up the soup since my mother will not allow anyone else to drop of the soup. Fly up to my mothers and drop it off. She is in a state of hysteria because she thinks her dog is at my Aunt's house. She takes a glass and slams it on the counter-shards explode everywhere. I leave the house since I have my son with me and call her on the phone. After explaining the situation, she understands and is completely happy and grateful of the soup. I arrive at the park in time to pick up the other half of my family and back to the house we go.

The best day yet: Sunday. As this post has become rather long I will briefly describe the day. Phone call to me Phone call to my brother Phone call to me Phone call to my brother. repeat 15 more times. Completely hysterical and aggressive. Wants to die hates her life is miserable, cannot do anything, has no friends. At 5:30, she wants me to drop everything, jump in the car, go get her dog (Daisy was spending the weekend at my Grandmothers)wash her dog, dry her dog, comb her dog, bring her the dog, bring food, and visit. I tell her that it will have to wait one hour before I can do it. That causes an explosive reaction resulting in explicits coming rapid fire: I am selfish, cold, evil, going to Hell, God will not reward me, God hates me, I am not her daughter, I am a *****, I help everyone but her, I should marry my dad since I am just like him, and much much worse. Thankfully, I have a tough skin and am used to this barrage of insults. I am the devil child and my brother is the Golden boy. The ironic twist in this is that my brother is free to help on a whim and despite his endless offers and devoted attention to her, she refuses his pleas to help. She has it in her mind that he is too busy and needs his downtime. The kicker is now she expects my husband to help her but does not expect her own son to help??????? She refuses to answer my call and I head up there one hour later with brother daughter, and son in tow. We leave the food on the porch and home we go. Phone call at 1:00 am saying she is so sorry and she does not understand why she screams such hateful things at me. She also tells me she forgave my dad (for something he did not do) and is now talking to him again. Life regains a shred of normalcy for the time being.