Control, Distraction, and Guilt

I am the coordinator of chaos.

I am the doer, updater, list maker, cleaner, problem-solver, thinker. 

It affords me the opportunity to avoid the most painful role: daughter. 

The truth is, I’ve been very busy, attending to things at my parents’ home, making sure my dad is cared for and spending most of my time here decluttering, organizing, cleaning, updating everyone on mom’s condition and dad’s needs. I’ve sorted most of the papers (bills! receipts! recipes! pay stubs! greeting cards! 2010 church committee meeting minutes! owner’s manuals! planners! medical documents! tax records! Oh my!), removed 10+ boxes of books for the library sale, decluttered cabinets and drawers, ordered supplies for dad and the home, stocked the kitchen, cleaned up the laundry room, the bathroom, the dining room, my bedroom … producing countless donation boxes and bags of trash. I’ve hired a contractor to make repairs around the house. 

I’ve been to see mom once. 

I have excuses aplenty - there is so much to be done here; I want to clear the space for both of them, and the caregivers - if mom is returning, she needs to have more access to things than the clutter allows. Pathways need to be more clear for the caregivers to see after dad. If neither of them can stay here for medical reasons, all of this will need to be done anyway. 

And yet: I haven’t sat down to chat with my dad. 

I haven’t been in to see mom since before Audrey left for Colombia and she went along. 

The truth is, I dread it. 

I could blame PTSD with hospitals and vigils therein. I’ve done all this - camping out in a hospital room / waiting room, doing what I can to make the patient comfortable, watching as therapy does its excruciatingly slow work. I could point out that in addition to caring for both parents, I have a son graduating in 2 weeks, and his needs to consider. I could blame my job for keeping me busy during business hours. 

Ah, but the truth is: I dread it. 

I dread seeing my mother in her current state. I’m avoiding the conversations and sadness about how things are at the moment. How we have no idea what she’ll regain, and how her life will look going forward. How I’m so incredibly sad about all of it. How we balance hope with reality. She’s not a complainer. But I KNOW how hard this is going to be, and none of us can predict the outcome. 

I dread it. 

Here, I can busy myself with things that “need” to be done. I can preoccupy myself with administrative duties and zone out with YouTube. 

And feel guilty all the while. 

I love my parents so very much. It’s so incredibly hard to see them both in their current situations. Every time I have a happy thought about the past and their healthy selves, I shudder and bring myself back to the present. 

Because it hurts. 

And I’m tired. 

Tomorrow I’ve resolved to go see mom. I don’t want to.