I hate my mother
Well, of course I don't hate my mother. And the teenage angst implications of the title are a little annoying, but it seemed in context with the headline of the last post about my daughter, so it stands and to hell with you.
I'm an idiot.
I talked to Mom on the phone this past Thursday, right before Survivor. I knew better than to try to interrupt Survivor. (Who am I kidding? I didn't want to miss it myself. Those people are idiots!)
I tried to get a clear picture from the ongoing drama of Mom's health. She just turned 70. The depression and anxiety seem to be coming along fine with the double whammy of prozac and Seroquel. I read about her meds on line, the fact that Seroquel is called an anti-psychotic really disturbs me. But it's better than the zyprexa that made her gain 30 pounds on an already-overloaded 5 ft frame. Her shoulder pain is just bursitis, she's had that for years, no arthritis joining the party. Her back pain is probably overweight, combined with osteoporosis. Core systems (heart lungs & liver) seem to be just fine thank you very much.
No comment on the memory degradation. I can't tell if she's getting vague from the drugs or starting to seriously lose her memory, but I think it's some of both.
Overall prognosis? Ten or more years of steady degradation of her ability to get around and care for herself while her mind goes away and her heart just keeps on tickin' like a Timex. Probably 20 years.
(Those who know me well know my fondness for the idea of euthanasia. Just fuckin' kill me when I'm done, don't keep the body around. If I'm alert enough to figure out that I've crossed the line I'll do it myself, save you the trouble. )
Where was I? I guess this phone call was where it finally sunk in. Mom's an old lady. And, all she really wants to do is be comfortable and entertained. That's the part I hate.
She's been staying with us during the summer for the past 2 years (we bought her a small place a few blocks from our house). (Yes, it's a trailer, thanks very much for asking. But a very nice trailer. An artist used to live there. Fuck you.)
So every time she's here I keep trying to convince her to get out and explore the world. We live in a very beautiful corner of the Pacific Northwest, some of the most gorgeous scenery you can imagine is a half-day's drive away. There are interesting cities near by, quaint villages, outdoor sports of all types and descriptions. There are hikes and walks and about the highest per capita ratio of parkland in the country. Wildlife galore. Cute little galleries. Art classes.
So the first year I really expected her to take to it, to get out and enjoy this bounty. Go out walking and get healthier, take music lessons, SOMETHING. But when we don't go get her and take her somewhere she mostly just sits, or goes to Wal Mart. She loves cruising the aisles at Wal Mart. My wife did a great job with her that first year, getting her out walking around the lake fairly frequently, overcoming a little pain here and there.
The second year, last year, she was worse. She'd gained a bunch of weight from the drugs, she couldn't walk very far, walking Wal Mart was about the maximum physical challenge she could take. I talked her into going to a doctor to get off the Zyprexa and it was partly a good decision - the weight gain was horrible for her - it was in very large part a bad decision. She went into a downward spiral of unbearable anxiety. Her hands would shake uncontrollably just talking to you. I partly think the drug is a part cause of her problems - her hands never shook like that before she took the drug - but I'm positive you could never prove it.
My main reason, though, was that I saw her getting less and less engaged with the world, more absorbed in a little imaginary world of NASCAR racing, old horror movies, Wal Mart shopping, and the occasional pre-cut craft kit project.
I kept putting ideas and opportunities out for her, but she'd never take any.
And now I accept it. My mom is a passive person. She just wants comfort and entertainment. That's why I hate my mom.
What's so bad about that? What else is it that I want? Challenge, adventure, beauty, self-expression - what are those? Are they just other words for comfort and entertainment?
But the worst of it for me is, there's a big side of me that just wants comfort and entertainment. I dream big dreams of going out and training my body to a hard machine and using that machine to conquer mountains. I dream big dreams of sharpening my mind to a keen edge and using it to go out and write great books or solve the world's puzzles, or build something new and wonderful.
But, all things considered, I think I'd just rather sit and watch Survivor. Shhh, it's starting.
I'm an idiot.
I'm an idiot.
I talked to Mom on the phone this past Thursday, right before Survivor. I knew better than to try to interrupt Survivor. (Who am I kidding? I didn't want to miss it myself. Those people are idiots!)
I tried to get a clear picture from the ongoing drama of Mom's health. She just turned 70. The depression and anxiety seem to be coming along fine with the double whammy of prozac and Seroquel. I read about her meds on line, the fact that Seroquel is called an anti-psychotic really disturbs me. But it's better than the zyprexa that made her gain 30 pounds on an already-overloaded 5 ft frame. Her shoulder pain is just bursitis, she's had that for years, no arthritis joining the party. Her back pain is probably overweight, combined with osteoporosis. Core systems (heart lungs & liver) seem to be just fine thank you very much.
No comment on the memory degradation. I can't tell if she's getting vague from the drugs or starting to seriously lose her memory, but I think it's some of both.
Overall prognosis? Ten or more years of steady degradation of her ability to get around and care for herself while her mind goes away and her heart just keeps on tickin' like a Timex. Probably 20 years.
(Those who know me well know my fondness for the idea of euthanasia. Just fuckin' kill me when I'm done, don't keep the body around. If I'm alert enough to figure out that I've crossed the line I'll do it myself, save you the trouble. )
Where was I? I guess this phone call was where it finally sunk in. Mom's an old lady. And, all she really wants to do is be comfortable and entertained. That's the part I hate.
She's been staying with us during the summer for the past 2 years (we bought her a small place a few blocks from our house). (Yes, it's a trailer, thanks very much for asking. But a very nice trailer. An artist used to live there. Fuck you.)
So every time she's here I keep trying to convince her to get out and explore the world. We live in a very beautiful corner of the Pacific Northwest, some of the most gorgeous scenery you can imagine is a half-day's drive away. There are interesting cities near by, quaint villages, outdoor sports of all types and descriptions. There are hikes and walks and about the highest per capita ratio of parkland in the country. Wildlife galore. Cute little galleries. Art classes.
So the first year I really expected her to take to it, to get out and enjoy this bounty. Go out walking and get healthier, take music lessons, SOMETHING. But when we don't go get her and take her somewhere she mostly just sits, or goes to Wal Mart. She loves cruising the aisles at Wal Mart. My wife did a great job with her that first year, getting her out walking around the lake fairly frequently, overcoming a little pain here and there.
The second year, last year, she was worse. She'd gained a bunch of weight from the drugs, she couldn't walk very far, walking Wal Mart was about the maximum physical challenge she could take. I talked her into going to a doctor to get off the Zyprexa and it was partly a good decision - the weight gain was horrible for her - it was in very large part a bad decision. She went into a downward spiral of unbearable anxiety. Her hands would shake uncontrollably just talking to you. I partly think the drug is a part cause of her problems - her hands never shook like that before she took the drug - but I'm positive you could never prove it.
My main reason, though, was that I saw her getting less and less engaged with the world, more absorbed in a little imaginary world of NASCAR racing, old horror movies, Wal Mart shopping, and the occasional pre-cut craft kit project.
I kept putting ideas and opportunities out for her, but she'd never take any.
And now I accept it. My mom is a passive person. She just wants comfort and entertainment. That's why I hate my mom.
What's so bad about that? What else is it that I want? Challenge, adventure, beauty, self-expression - what are those? Are they just other words for comfort and entertainment?
But the worst of it for me is, there's a big side of me that just wants comfort and entertainment. I dream big dreams of going out and training my body to a hard machine and using that machine to conquer mountains. I dream big dreams of sharpening my mind to a keen edge and using it to go out and write great books or solve the world's puzzles, or build something new and wonderful.
But, all things considered, I think I'd just rather sit and watch Survivor. Shhh, it's starting.
I'm an idiot.
posted by Swampdog at 1:49 PM
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