6 Years

Today marks six years since the last time things were ever "normal". I remember exactly what you were wearing. I can still hear you asking what I, Lisa, was doing home. I remember my heart dropping when I heard you call me a different name. It was so sudden. You were fine when I left home three and a half hours prior. 

I don't often tell the full story of what led to this moment. 11 months prior to this life changing moment my mother suddenly could not walk. She was getting weaker each day and her and I did not know why. I did not realize the severity of her alcoholism, or know how little she was eating. After three months of rigorous testing in the hospital, the doctors drew zero conclusions and released her into my care. I was 20, in third year university with a job, and now caring for a wheelchair bound 63 year old woman. 

I spent from April until July finding a wheelchair safe home for her and I. I contacted occupational therapists to assess apartments with us, had one of my best friends literally carry my mother down the stairs of our current apartment for all of these viewings and all of her appointments, until finally we found a place. It was the nicest place we ever lived in. Behind all of my 'joyful' Facebook posts at the time, my mom was suicidal, depressed and her alcoholism had gotten worse. I did not know how to help her or myself and eventually staged an intervention at one of her physiotherapy appointments. She was prescribed anti-depressants but they made her sick. She also suddenly developed a UTI. That medication did not mix well with the anti-depressants and she could not keep anything down. She also refused to be sober, and continued to drink throughout this week of illness.

Two nights before she forgot who I was she started hallucinating. She asked for her dead husband, tried to call someone on the phone and light a cigarette all at 3AM. I was terrified because it was startling. She could have lit the house on fire. She was asking for someone dead. In the morning she had no recollection and claimed it was a dream. We watched Hells Kitchen together and I slowly spoon fed her broth. She went to bed, and again started making noises and trying to get up on her own (which she didn't do at the time). In my fear and anger, because I had an exam the next day, I yelled at her. I reminded her I had an exam. I told her I needed to sleep. In the morning she didn't remember any of it.

And three hours later I was no longer Hillary her daughter. I was now Lisa, my white 50 year old cousin. In the hour that I sat with her deciding what to do next I kept replaying her voice in my head saying she never wanted to go back to the hospital., that she'd rather die at home. She looked at me and looked like a terrified child. I felt like a parent, lying about taking their kid to the dentist, or the dog to the vet. I told her we were going for a drive and wheeled her to the hospital. I brought her to the emergency room and two weeks later she was diagnosed with dementia.

For almost the entire six years that have passed I have looked back on that time with such heartache. "I worked so hard to get an apartment for nothing", "I helped her drink", "Maybe had I not put her on anti-depressants she wouldn't have been pushed over the edge", "I promised her I'd never bring her back to the hospital". No child should ever feel so alone that they have to make any of these decisions on their own. 

After six years I still look back at that moment as one of the most terrifying in my life. I thought I was losing my best friend, my person, my parent, and the only constant I had. It has taken me six years to appreciate our new relationship. A lot of people ask me if she knows me now and she does. She knows where I am, and what I'm doing, and that I love her. She doesn't seem to be able to grasp that she is in a home. She still thinks she is able, capable, and that I should be able to go get her from there at any point. If you've ever met my mom you would know that she was a savage, and a badass who loved rap music, and she still does. She still makes hilarious dirty jokes, and has the same sense of humour as always. I'm finally able to talk to her about how trash men are, and only plan to help this friendship and relationship evolve and grow no matter what obstacles get in our way.

Had you asked me two years ago, I would've said I went through everything in 2014 for nothing because she ended up going back to the hospital. I would have talked about how endless it all felt. If you ask me now, it was not all for nothing. We have gone through hell and back together. The bond my mother and I have is like no other, and I would do all of it again just to live with her and cook for her one more time.

These six years have felt like a life time, but we continue to persevere.

I love you my constant, no matter what you call me.