It has been strange around here, Al fell last night. He fell between a base against the wall
and his recliner. I had put up so much of his collectibles on to shelves, but there were still
several items on the floor, all hiding right where he fell.
He was confused and he did not ring his bell to let me know he was getting up. He has a clock sitting on his table next to his bed, only inches from his face, but yet he got up, did not put his glasses on nor did he use his walker, and he said that he was going over to the opposite wall of his bed to see what time it is.
An open scratch on his behind, but other than that, nothing happened. I was able to help him get up, but my mind kept switching back to the coca cola glass bottles sitting inches away from where he landed on the floor. He landed on a musical reindeer, that stood about a foot tall and smashed it to pieces. The bottles were sitting directly beside the reindeer.
After I checked his body out for red marks, blood and bruises, and got him safely seated, I picked up one of the bottles and showed it to him, and I told him how lucky he was because the way he fell, he could have taken a bottle right through his eye.
He started to cry and said he does everything wrong, which makes me so angry, because I never tell him he is wrong. I do que him a lot, guide him in the right directions of different things, but do not ridicule him.
He was very quiet the rest of the night, as he usually is, when he falls. I believe he gets shaken up mentally when this happens. He remained quiet today also, he even without permission or asking me to help, leaned over and moved those items behind the recliner, which is what I have been trying to do for weeks. I told him that he should have at least let me know he was going to do it, or have me help, because leaning over forward, is asking for a fall. He cried again.
This afternoon the therapist came for her last visit, and also the nurse came. She has two more visits to go then all home health care is done. After being fairly quiet today, Al let loose when the two ladies were here.
His tremors were a wreck, flying all over and rapid movements. He burst into tears, and he told them how he was stupid and a retard, and I did not want him here, and he was a failure, and I wanted all of his stuff out of his room .
None of this is true. His being down on himself is his feelings alone, and no one else’s. I do not want his room empty, he is mad because we are rearranging things in his room, and Al doesn’t do well with change.
Both the nurse and therapist tried to calm him down, but he was tuning everyone out but himself. They tried some exercises to calm his tremors, but he wasn’t budging from his frame of mind.
Then I made the mistake or maybe a blessing in disguise. I stood up and said,I can’t take this anymore. It has got to stop, please stop. The tears, the arguing, the lack of ability to comprehend anymore what I am saying!! I just want to run and hide!!
What had I said? What had I done? I clamped my hand over my mouth, and sat back down. I had let my feelings out of their hiding place and the professionals had seen it. They had seen my frustrations and tiredness.
The nurse looked at me and said, I was wondering how long you were going to be able to pull this off. I would have been pulling my hair out a long time ago. We both so admire you for what you have been doing and for how long you have been doing it, but don’t you think it is time to actually consider placement for him, where he can get more therapy and be around other people?
Instead of waiting for my answer, Al is over on the couch screaming that I want the house for me alone, and that I don’t love him etc. This is what happens each time Al and I try to talk about maybe finding a better place for him. His guilt words being thrown at me like poison darts, always make me crawl back in my hole and keep me quiet.
Not this time, the nurse and the therapist took over the situation while I sat there in surface shock, and they started talking to him about how much happier he would be living in a home where there were nurses and staff to be with him when he fell, and the games that went on inside, and all the new friends. He began to cry, and then so did I, and then the ladies followed. Pretty quickly it turned into a pool of tears right on the carpet.
Al finally broke down and said he might be happy living in a rehab home, as the ladies called it. The therapist wrote an email to a facility here in our home town to try to get information on what had to be done in Al’s special circumstances.
By now, it has been two hours since they have left, and my heart is in my big toe. I am feeling the guilt no matter how I try to slap it away. I failed him, just like his dad did, no I didn’t, yes you did. I walked into his room just now and looked at him to see if he was alright, and instantly tried to imagine what it would be like to not have him living here, and I turned around and left.
I literally forced myself to think about how I could go back to work, and I could go pick up Al and take him to lunch, and he would actually be glad to see me and we would laugh and chat, bu then my thoughts would come instantly back to you failed him. No I didn’t.
I am not sure if I can do this, I don’t know if I can get rid of the guilt and let him go, even knowing he may be better off. Maybe this won’t work out anyways. I have tried to look into it before, and always got a no, or he is not on Medicaid, so no, but maybe it will work out………………
I need to, no, I have to keep looking straight at Al, and how many times has he fallen, and his confusion, and the EMS’s having to come pick him up off the floor, and his tears, and his sadness. I am thinking of me and not him.
Dad died, and that was it, over. I had no one asking me for permission to let it happen, it just happened without my consent. This to me is ten times worse, I am being asked.