I didn't know what was wrong. I didn't know if she'd had a stroke or just fallen but it seemed as if something had been wrong at first, and then she had fallen trying to get to Rosa for some reason. I asked her if she could move at all, move a little out of the way so I could get in to help her, but she just kept whimpering and saying, "Get Rosa. Get Rosa." So I ran to Rosa's room, woke her up, and asked her to come help.
I could have pushed the door against Mom and forced it open if I wanted to, but I was afraid she was injured and I would harm her in some way, so I just kept asking her what exactly had happened and what she wanted me to do. She was finally able to scoot a little bit out of the way and told us we could push the door open so Rosa and I pushed as hard as we could against it and were able to push Mom and her walker back far enough for Rosa to squeeze in to the room. Then while Rosa went to help Mom I was able to reach my arm in and around the door to push the walker back and went in myself.
Mom had completely lost control of her, (and this is why this is private, but she doesn't read my journal or have any friends, or even know anyone, who does), bowels and gone to the bathroom everywhere. She gets these sudden stomach attacks and has to take Immodium. She had made a mess and then been embarrassed -- too embarrassed to get me -- and was trying to get to Rosa when she lost strength in her legs and they went out from under her. I feel so sorry for her.
She didn't want me to see her like that. She didn't want me in the room. Rosa and I told her that it didn't matter -- that I was her daughter, that I loved her and had seen much worse. She couldn't stand and was afraid to let us lift her but we just went ahead and lifted her anyway. Rosa took her left side, I took the right, and we just pulled her up. Then she asked me to leave, even though I offered to stay and do anything she needed; clean up, bring her a new nightgown, anything, but she was too embarrassed, poor thing, so I left for a bit.
I went back in after a few minutes just to make sure she was all right and she was sitting on her chair completely nude and Rosa was cleaning her with a wash cloth. Now I finally understand why she is so attached to Rosa, so desperately dependent on her and unwilling to see any of her faults, because she's been through this before, and once you've had this level of intimacy with someone, it's no wonder she doesn't think she will be able to find anyone else to replace her. I mean how would you ask someone if they could do this on a job interview? Poor Mom. Poor Rosa. It's all so sad.
I'm going to go back in just to be certain she's okay and hasn't broken or sprained anything. She doesn't want me to call her doctor and since it's a Sunday on Thanksgiving weekend I don't want to bother him, but I'm going to call him tomorrow. There must be something we can do -- something she can take to ensure she doesn't have to suffer like this. Her doctor wants her to see a psychiatrist but she refuses to go saying, "I'm not crazy!"
I used to think that all of her stomach troubles were my fault, that all of my troubles were causing her so much distress that she couldn't handle it emotionally and would then have these attacks because I had upset her. She used to tell me this herself -- that it was all my fault for constantly upsetting her. But what happened this morning was clearly unrelated to anything I did because we didn't have any kind of argument or upset that preceded this. We had a nice night last night. We watched a kind of corny Christmas romance on the Hallmark channel together while I knitted. Now that I'm thinking about this, I remember that my Grandmother's health deteriorated in the same way until my Mother put her in a "rest home." I'll never do that to my Mom.
I just had to write this because I'm sitting here too upset to do anything else. Just needed a friend -- thanks so much as always for being here. I love you guys -- Jacqui