The challenge of finding balance--a blog update on my mom and life

This has been my mom's first week home from the nursing home where she's been living since she was paralyzed in December.  I haven't shared too much, as it's much easier for me to give a shallow, "Things are fine.  Thanks for asking." than it is for me to admit just how difficult this has been and open up to the range of emotions her injury and other life circumstances have brought.  I've decided, however, that it's got to be healthier in the long run to "let it all out"; I even hope that one day years from now I'll look back at this journey and be amazed by how far my entire family has come.

A brief background:  In December, my mom, a 53-year old type I Diabetic, was home alone when her blood sugar skyrocketed to over 1,000.  She went into a coma, had multiple heart attacks and spent nine hours on the floor before my brother found her.  Hours before he drove to her house, he called me to see if I had spoken with her yet that day.  I was watching a movie with my teenage daughter and didn’t take the call (initiate guilt sequence now).  Doctors were not optimistic.  Her brain functions were non-exisistent, and we prepared for the worst. 

At this point, I was just two months pregnant.  With a history of miscarriage, my family was terrified the stress would be too much for me.  When my mother awoke from her coma, we were overjoyed.  This joy was short-lived, however, as we quickly learned she was paralyzed from T-6 down (roughly the middle of her back).  Not one to shy away from adversity, we bound together, hopeful she would overcome her paralysis. 

I'm sure with events like this, a person follows the grieving cycle in a way.  In December and January, we were so happy to have mom alive.  Yes, she was still in the hospital, 45-minutes away from family.  But we were willing to make the drive!  Yes, she was paralyzed.  But she was going to recover!  We talked about how we could survive anything.  She would walk again.  Miracles happen every day, right?  We talked about how we'd band together and do what needed to be done.  We just knew there were resources out there to help us sort through the myriad of medical and financial issues we would be facing.  We were positive and strong.  I began spotting in January and discovered I had placenta previa.  I was put on pelvic rest (no sex!) and lifting restrictions.  My husband took ownership of carting our 1.5 year old around the house, up and down the stairs and into the car, all without complaint. 

February brought frustrations, as we learned just how difficult it is to wade through insurance, therapists, dieticians, disability, paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork.  So much discussion, so many phone calls, no accountability or action.  Dad resumed working his 80-hour work weeks.  I continued to work full time, but my employers and co-workers happily covered for me when I need to sit in on doctor's appointments or run errands for my mom.  My spotting got worse.  Ultrasounds showed a nice healthy heartbeat, so my doctor warned I would be put on bedrest if I couldn’t abide by the strict guidelines and take it easy. 

March came, with Mom still in the wheelchair.   MRI's showed no improvement to the spinal cord.  The offers of help for visits and meals waned.  My dad started to take his frustrations out on us, my mom and the nursing staff.  I began to feel like I was doing more than my brother.  I began to resent the energy and time I spent taking her to church each Sunday, my only day off.  She began to lose her sunny demeanor, finding fault with the food, her care, her roommates.  She felt abandoned, sitting in a nursing home filled with people thirty years her senior all day.  I felt exhausted and unappreciated.  I was working 45 hours a week, balancing a toddler, a husband and another pregnancy.  My one team member quit without notice, leaving the entire workload of my department on my shoulders.  My bleeding had stopped, but I still feared constantly I was going to lose this baby.  Changing my own mother's diapers was not what I wanted to do on my day off.  And I felt guilty.  So guilty!  How could I NOT spend every free minute I had attending to her?  She's my mother!  I felt angry.  I thought my mom should FORCE my brother to help more.  He's a student, attending school two days a week, and a part-time youth pastor at our church.  Surely he has more free time than I do!?

Now this month….My mom didn't feel she was ready to come home, but Blue Cross/Blue Shield determined she was no longer making progress at the nursing home and stopped paying for her stay.  Her doctor appealed their decision and was overruled by the insurance company--how is that possible?.  She is now home-bound, in a wheelchair in her tri-level house.  "How can that work?" you ask?  We're not sure yet!  My mother getting sent home this week has brought a new set of emotions and challenges, and I’ll be sorting them out here, as I continue the quest for the concept of balance!