My mother had total knee-replacement surgery last week. I am very, very glad she did it, as her knee has progressively gone from annoying to acutely painful, and this type of thing doesn't resolve itself. She had been putting it off because she is the prime caretaker of my 92-year-old grandmother and my 49-year-old pill popping brother. My sister and I had explained to her that if she waited too long to have it done, it would be a far worse recovery, and she would be worse off having it at 75 than 72.
Here's the thing, and this happened when my dad was sick and basically dying. The closest I've lived since I got married is Birmingham, which is 2 1/2 hours away from Macon, where they live. When my dad was sick, I drove back and forth as much as possible and felt like the world's worst daughter when I had to leave to go home for work. I now live about 4 hours from Macon, and in the past week, I have driven from Albertville to Tuscaloosa, back to Albertville, to Birmingham, to Tuscaloosa, to Macon and to Albertville again. I really can't do the math on the gas I've used right now, plus math is stupid, but the point is, I couldn't stay.
On the day I left my mom in the swing bed in Macon on Saturday, they thought she might need a blood transfusion, and I offered my blood while thinking in the back of my head, "Will that make me woozy while driving?" I would've stayed the night, even though it would've meant dealing with my palsy-esque brother digging for Xanax wherever it may be, but they wouldn't take my stupid blood. You have to go through United Blood Services where they do all that stuff to it, which in theory, is smart, but when your mom needs blood and doesn't want a stranger's blood, I was considering a YouTube video on how to drain your own blood so I could give her mine. Stupid regulations. I have all this blood; if someone I love needs it, they should have it.
So I came back home Saturday, only to be calling home to check on my mother and grandmother at least twice a day. Almost every time I talk to them, they wish I could come back. I experienced this with my dad when he was dying. He always asked for me to come visit when I could and said I brightened his day. My mom and grandmother say the same thing, almost verbatim. It is so flattering to be a source of happiness to them, but it is literally heart-piercing that I can't just go visit every day. I need to talk to my mom's doctor and nurses and know what exactly her stats and vitals and situation is, but I have a husband and a life that is 200 miles away, and I have to be okay with that without feeling like the worst daughter/granddaughter in the history of the world.
It is so hard growing older and learning that you become the caretaker of your parents and grandparents, but you can't sacrifice your life for that, so you have to balance as best you can. I admit, that while I do what I can, I sometimes come home and cry to Smitty that I feel like a failure as a child/grandchild, and the situation with my drug-addicted brother compounds the issue. I don't trust him to take care of a rabid ferret, but I can't be there to constantly monitor the situation. We make our decisions, we live with them, and we do the best we can for all of our families...and that's all I'm trying to do. I am not perfect, I am not all-together, but I know what needs to be done in certain situations, and I can't understand why those closest to the situation can't get their acts together and act like adults. If I had independent income or such, I'd be there kicking asses and taking names and putting folks in rehab, but as it is, I'm here, trying to rule a mini-empire from afar.
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