Mother has Come to Stay, Temporarily?
Published: Friday, January 22, 2021
I am an only child. And I must admit there's a great deal of guilt I feel about my mother's care. However, my husband Brian and I are her chief and only caretakers and sometimes the job is ominous.
For the second time in a week, my mother called and said, "I'm calling the fire department. There's harmful fumes in my house."
A few weeks prior, we had a man check for carbon monoxide. Even though Mother has five carbon monoxide detectors, she claims they just aren't working. The man told her the air was clear of the harmful gas. That didn't stop Mother from getting a new detector. Now she has six.
I guess I knew the problem even then. Her house needed a deep cleaning. I wasn't up to it and was told the going rate to deep clean was $1,000.
I ignored her problem until she informed me that she was so dizzy she was going to call the paramedics. I had to admit that the doggy dander, dust and various other particles floating through the air made it hard to breathe.
We scheduled some professional cleaners, and she has come to live at our house temporarily. It is quite a transition.
My mother is a sweet soul. But she's wired completely differently than I am. I like my house tidy and quiet ... with no drama!
"What day is it?" she asked the first morning she was here.
"It's Tuesday, Mother."
"Uh-oh. I think I took my morning meds twice. I could have sworn it was Wednesday."
I spent that day taking her pulse and blood pressure. Both were very low. And I realized I needed to keep an eye on her.
"What time is my beauty appointment?" she asked me a few days later.
"I'll be taking you at 1:30 this afternoon."
"Do you have a pencil and paper. I need to write it down."
I gave her the pad and pencil. Ten minutes later she asked, "What time is my beauty appointment?"
"Did you write it down?"
"I don't think so."
I knew better. I also knew that her mind was slipping.
"Did you make your bed?" I asked her one afternoon.
"I'm 81 years old. It takes me a little longer to get to things." I made her bed that day and every other.
"I need to go home and fill my pill box." We often take her back and forth. She lives right next door. I took her home that evening and found a sink full of dishes.
"You didn't stack your dishwasher. No wonder the air is bad. Your salmon pan is still on the stove."
"You wait until you get to be 81!"
"We'll have to go through some of these clothes. The house cleaners will not want to work around them."
"I wear those clothes."
"But many of them are on the floor and on your bed."
"I sleep in the spare room. The air is better. I still say I need to call the fire department. Those fumes could be deadly."
My husband Brian went to her house and cleaned her bedroom. "You could stack your dishwasher and sleep at home tonight," he suggested.
"No. I'll bring my pillow and sleep at your place. I don't know where those fumes are coming from. I just can't breathe in this house."
I know in my heart this could be the beginning. I think we might have a permanent resident at our house.
Laurie Lechlitner can be contacted by email at Laurielech@aol.com.
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