My mother died of dementia two years ago. My brother lived with her all his life, so when she became ill, he became her carer.
Just before it finally became necessary for her to go into a nursing home, my brother had a severe heart attack and so Mum came to stay with us while he was in hospital.
I remember this chapter of my life so well, and it is a shameful time for me and one I regret. Forgiven, yes, but I can't forget the way I treated her during that week.
We had just moved into a new rented home and we were extremely stressed. Mum was missing my brother and was concerned about him. Every five minutes she would ask if I would ring the hospital and enquire about him. I would tell her that we already rang and they said he was resting comfortably after having a stent put in.
I reassured Mum that as soon as he was allowed visitors, we would take her to visit him.Which we did. But still she fretted and wanted to go see him. After a while, it got very wearying.
The room where Mum was staying in had a holland blind that had chains for putting up or down, and when I took a cup of tea into her, I noticed the blind edge at the bottom had been pulled off.
Not even unpacked yet, I was upset that already we had damaged a new house. I realised that Mum had pulled it down instead of using the chain tracking. When I asked her if she had done it, she declared it wasn't her- it just broke. She was like a little child found with her hand in the cookie jar. To my shame, I was less than gracious to her.
She was on medication for a urinary tract infection and half an hour after I gave her her tablets, she said she felt nauseous. I quickly ran to the laundry and grabbed a bucket for her, but she shouted at me that she was not going to use that... and promptly started gagging.
I quickly guided her to the nearby toilet and lifted the seat up for her, but she refused to vomit into the toilet and in fact swung her head from side to side, projectile vomiting all over the walls and floor.
It was all so unnecessary, and as I cleaned her up and then cleaned up the toilet, I did so in a bad humour. I asked her how hard was it to use the bucket I had brought to her and pointed out the awful mess that I had to clean... and as my fibromyalgia was bad and my spoons scarce, I was very ticked off with her and having to clean it up.
Mum hung her head, and said quietly, "Well I used to clean up after you!" It brought me undone. I cried and held her and told her I loved her. It was a good hour before I could stop crying as I saw Mum as she was- a woman in a child's body, scared of what was happening to her and scared of me!
Later, we were at the table and I was trying to coax Mum to eat. She was a stubborn woman with a will of iron, and as I cut her bread and butter up to make egg soldiers, I realised that she was losing her battle fast. Her body no longer knew how to eat. The long goodbye was getting shorter. She was dying!
I cried before the LORD when I was in the bathroom, torn between grief and guilt for losing my temper with Mum. I had never done that before or since, but I stayed there until I felt calm again and purposed to be kinder to her.
Fortunately for Mum, she had forgotten that I had been cross and happily did a tour of inspection of the new house, holding my hand in case she got lost. She didn't know how to get back to her room or kitchen.
Although Mum had forgotten about it, I hadn't and to this day, I still feel ashamed of my lack of patience. I know God has forgiven me, and graciously arranged that when she passed,
she was holding my hand and peaceful. It was healing for me and good for her.
Even so, there are times when I am grieving for her that I wish I could live that day again. I would be much nicer and kinder. Thank You, God for forgiving me!
© Glenys Robyn Hicks
Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent. Psalm 71:9
