I'm home ... and have been for a while.
It's nice to be in my comfy apartment ... no glorious views, just a warm, familiarity about everything, and a feeling of being grounded again.
My mother is still in Evergreen House, the extended care wing of Lions Gate Hospital. Her mental faculties have returned slowly since the morphine was stopped, but she's still not considered competent by the medical and other professional staff at the hospital. This, despite receiving the best possible care. The dedication, patience, warmth, and support shown by most of the medical, professional, and care staff at Evergreen House, for the patients and their families, was amazing.
They've recommended she move into an Assisted Living community. My sister-in-law found an excellent one, and she's on the waiting list to move when there's a vacancy.
Her response to this was to start exercising a lot so that she could prove to all that she was able to look after herself. She doesn't understand that it's not her physical condition that is of concern, but her mental condition.
My brothers, sister and I have decided not to argue with her, just give her time to adjust, and hopefully she'll get used to the idea.
She's been so independent all of her life. The prospect of putting control of her life in anyone else's hands is unbearable to her.
She keeps assuring me that she is doing very well ... improving all of the time ... and expects to go home soon.
I tell her, that I'm really happy to hear that, and feel like I'm lying to her because I know that her hope to return to her own home is futile.
Her home and her neighborhood are her source of security ... the place where she's lived for over 40 years. Her place.
To her, selling her home means taking away her roots, her base.
To her, not living independently and being sick is a personal failure.
And yet, she likes being looked after and likes not having to worry about anything.
... a real conflict of emotions.
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