I can’t do it all—you already know that I start one thing, finish another, and leave another halfway done. That’s just how I am. Take it or leave it. I haven’t forgotten about The Caregiver’s Chronicles; they’re hard to write because they mean sharing everything I’m living through while caring for my mother. Sometimes I just want to forget it all, but I believe it’s important for others going through the same thing to read this, to identify with me, and maybe even see a light at the end of the tunnel. Today, I continue this saga by talking about what I think might be approaching the end—but always told with humor, as usual. Let’s go!

Since the last post, The Hardest Decision, I haven’t had much new to share because the days blur into one another, and it’s the same routine. However, I have to say that in just a couple of months, my mother has worsened. Her illness began about four years ago, and while the first three years saw slow progression, this year it seems to have gathered strength, and we see changes every single day. I’ll tell you all about it with a sense of humor (and for those who get offended quickly, I suggest you stop reading now).

The most significant change is her posture. She can no longer stand upright—she’s hunched over, not just her back, but somehow her arms are curling in, too. She can hardly take a few steps, so we have to transport her in a wheelchair from one place to another in the house. She’s terrified of the chair, but it’s hilarious when I sit her down and start running through the hallway with her… hahaha. She starts shouting, “NOOOOO, you’re going to kill me!” and I just can’t stop laughing.

The second change is related to the bathroom. As I’ve mentioned before, she now needs to wear diapers, although she tries her best to get up and go to the bathroom on her own. She doesn’t like the idea of doing her business in the diaper. And now for the funny part (stop reading now if you’re already judging me for sharing these personal details about my mother). So… how can I put this? She seems to have forgotten how to poop. Out of nowhere, while we’re sitting on the couch, she says, “I think they’re coming; the balls are coming.” She tries to stand up, puts her hand on her backside, and says, “This feels very strange, very strange.” I take her to the bathroom, sit her down, and here’s where the comedy begins. I have to coach her: “Push, you can do it, push.” And she replies, “I can’t, I can’t.” I say, “Breathe, push,” and if anyone overheard us, they’d think she was giving birth. After about half an hour, she slowly delivers her “balls,” and I announce, “Twins!” Hahaha. She then says, “Thank you so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I’m sorry, but if I don’t laugh, you already know…

The third change involves meals. She can no longer eat on her own, so we have to feed her everything with a spoon, and everything has to be pureed. It takes at least an hour for her to eat. Her breakfast blends into lunch, snack time, and dinner. What I usually do is feed her first, then sit down to eat myself. But as soon as she sees me eating, she says, “Well, aren’t you rude? You’re eating and not giving me anything!” Hahaha. She forgets she’s already eaten, so I end up sharing some of my food so she doesn’t think I’m mean… hahaha.

The fourth change involves her imaginary friends. This part is hilarious. In the morning, when I wake her up, she says, “And them? Are we leaving them here?” And I ask, “Who’s ‘them’?” She replies, “The ones sitting there, they sleep with me.” I respond, “Well, let them stay there; I don’t have breakfast for so many.” At night, when we’re watching TV in the dark, she suddenly says, “Do you see them? There are a lot of them today.” And that’s how it goes all day. I tell her to ask them if they’ll bring us snacks or, better yet, help pay the mortgage. When I ask if she knows who they are, she just says, “I don’t know who the HELL they are.”

Lastly, I want to share that she no longer knows who I am, but she doesn’t know who she is either. When I ask her what her name is, she says, “How should I know?” We can’t leave her alone for even five seconds—no exaggeration. The other day, I set the table for dinner and poured myself a beer (a little beer never hurts). I stepped away to grab a napkin, and when I came back, the food was in the beer. Other times, the beer ends up in the food. Most of our mugs barely have handles anymore because she drops them—sometimes by accident, other times on purpose.

And another thing, even though she seems unaware of everything, I think sometimes she plays dumb and pretends when she doesn’t want to do something. The other day, she didn’t want to get up from the couch. My son and I tried to help her up, and she kept saying, “I can’t, I can’t.” Then she suddenly pretended to faint or fall asleep. I don’t even know how we got her to bed. When we tucked her in, she kept up the act of being “dead.” My son and I started laughing hysterically, saying, “Poor Carmen, she’s gone.” We even pulled the sheet over her head, and she didn’t flinch… hahaha.

Showers are also a whole comedy show. I have to put on a swimsuit to shower with her, and the whole time, she keeps saying, “THIS ISN’T FAIR, THIS ISN’T FAIR.” “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.” “God will punish you.” Hahaha.

At night, we have to lock the front door and all the other doors in the house to make sure she doesn’t wander into the kitchen or living room and cause trouble—or, more importantly, leave the house. She’s escaped twice already. Luckily, both times, she went to the neighbor’s apartment across the hall (poor woman). The last time was at 3 a.m. I’ve installed cameras almost everywhere in the house so I can watch her if I’m in another room. The other night, I thought it would be a good idea to activate the motion-detection alarm on my phone so I could quickly go to her if she got up (since sometimes she tries to stand and falls). I was so proud of myself for being clever… until 4 a.m., when I was jolted awake by an alarm sound louder than a nuclear warning. I heard my mom screaming, and my son saying, “WTF.” Apparently, instead of setting the alarm to notify my phone, I set it to blast through the camera itself.

I think I’ll stop here. Every day is an adventure; every day I’m more tired and stressed (even though I try to take it all with humor). They’ve told us the public nursing home won’t be available until the end of 2024 at the earliest, but we could put her in a private one until then—for the small price of €2,700+ per month, since she has Level 3 dependency. So, we’re a bit F****.

Have a great day, everyone. I’ll keep sharing these chronicles until the end, whether it’s near or far…