Is there someone more adultier than me in the room?

I am ready to run away, to hide from the world, for as long as it takes for a more adultier adult to show up. Today, I moved my mother, who has Alzheimer’s, into care. 

When I was a young adult, she and I moved my gran from PE to CPT. My gran had Alzheimer’s and by the time we realized what was going on, she had deteriorated significantly. Moving her to CPT was by far one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do. My mom took a week to pack up my gran’s house, and then I went up to help drive her back. My gran was so aggressive and point blank refused to move. The only way we could move her out was to sedate her, and then get the fire department to help us hoist her into the back of a bakkie. It was traumatic and horrible, and the months that followed, while she lived with us, were incredibly difficult.

My mom’s disease has progressed to the point where there are moments each day when she no longer recognizes me. Sometimes when we give her medicine, she thinks we’re trying to poison her. Some days her conversation makes no sense at all.

When a space opened up at a local care centre, and lockdown eased enough for us to move her in, we jumped at it. Today it was my task to talk to her about moving, and then to move her in. Given my experience with my gran, I was really dreading this. However, when I arrived this morning, she was sufficiently lucid that I could talk to her without drama. In her lucid state, she agreed that moving was the right thing to do. As the day progressed though, she regressed and became confused, then scared, then angry. The drive from her home to the centre was ... heartbreaking. My mom said things that I can’t bear to repeat. I just kept telling myself that this wasn’t really her, that it was her fear speaking through the disease. But they hurt, all the same.

As wonderful as the staff are, her room isn’t as comfortable as her home. She doesn’t have all the comforts she’s used to. She doesn't have her cat, or her garden, although she has the centre cat and the beautiful garden at the centre. I feel terrible that she doesn’t have her TV, or her own bathroom. We can’t afford anything more at the moment (especially if she’s going to live for several more years).

I’m not allowed to visit her, because we’re still under level 3. That slays me! I want nothing more than to spend some time with her every day, to help her feel more settled and ease the stress of moving. But that’s not going to happen for a while. 

So as I drove away this afternoon all I wanted, after being the adult in the room all day, was to have someone more adultier than me take over. But there isn’t really anyone else who can make these decisions for me, or who can help. While others can stand with me, and support me, only I can actually walk through this. And this is hard. So hard.