The New (Old) Crazy

My 85 year old mom has been having trouble with her knee for the last several months and it had gotten so she couldn’t walk or even stand for more than a few minutes.  I took her to the orthopedic surgeon who said she had 2 options “neither of them good” at her age...do nothing or have a knee replacement.  She and I discussed it with the doctor, and the fact is that she was getting increasingly depressed due to not being able to get around, walk her dogs, etc.  The fact also is she could possibly live another 10 years, which meant that doing nothing was not really an option either.

So she had knee replacement last Thursday, and I spent 3 days at the hospital with her, with a few breaks to go to her house and take care of her dogs.  The surgery went well, and she’s already able to walk on the knee (with a walker of course).  The first day after surgery, she was all sweetness and light, happy and chatty to the nurses and any visitors.  Then the dark side started to come out.  I chalk some of it up to the anesthesia and pain drugs, but she became so angry and abusive towards me. First, she refused to talk to me, then every time I tried to help her with anything (get out of bed, or use the bathroom), she would scream at me and start to accuse me of all sorts of crazy stuff.  She said she knows I want her to fall down and die.  She even told the nurses I was trying to kill her.  It got so bad, the nurses finally told me I should go home, just stay away for a while.  

My cousin and brother also were there a lot of the time, and when I wasn’t there, my mother would ask where I was and when was I coming back, she missed me so!  But whenever I would be there, she’d get angry again.  Apparently she blames me for everything that she feels is wrong right now. The nurses think it is probably because I was the one who went with her to the doctor when the decision to have the operation was made.

So my brother has been down there keeping an eye on her, but I came home Sunday morning (the hospital is about  an hour away from me).  At this point, I haven’t seen or talked to her since Saturday night.  To be honest, I’ve been too traumatized to contact her directly. 

If any of you have read my blog from the beginning, you know I have always had a difficult relationship with my mom.  She was very physically and emotionally abusive to both my brother and me when we were growing up. She was also anorexic and alcoholic, and there is evidence that she also has borderline personality disorder (think Mommie Dearest).  As a result of this dysfunctional childhood, I developed a severe eating disorder (anorexia alternating with bulimia) in my teens that lasted until my 40's, and even after that I continued to have a strange restricted way of eating and a distorted view of my body until I finally got into therapy a few years ago.

I feel like this experience has caused a huge step back in my recovery.  I truly haven’t binged or starved myself or purged in over 10 years.  But the last few days have brought up a lot of bad memories and emotions, and I've even had some PTSD type flashbacks and nightmares this weekend.  I’ve spent the last two days (today being a holiday) on the couch in my sweats, watching TV and bingeing off and on.  I haven’t even taken a shower since I got home and I just noticed I'm starting to smell bad!  As much as I know all that is counterproductive, it seems the only thing that soothes me (at least temporarily) is eating ice cream and potato chips.  My stomach is so bloated I look like I’m pregnant.  All of this is so out of character for me now that my husband asked me today what's going on...so I told him I thought I was getting the flu.  I was too ashamed to tell him the truth (and I didn't even really tell him everything that happened at the hospital).  Of course, he's working all day, so he doesn't know what I've been eating and the wrappers are easily hidden.

So now I'm feeling a TON of SHAME...shame about what happened at the hospital, shame that the nurses witnessed the whole crazy scene, and now about all the crap I've been eating.  But a little while ago, I decided instead of continuing to wallow and feeling sorry for myself, I’ll feel better and stop eating my emotions if I put all this crap out there.  So I’m blogging about it as therapy. And I'm trying to be as honest here as I can be, rather than hide behind a facade that everything is great (which is my usual MO). 

Tomorrow is another day.  This afternoon, they took her to a rehab facility where she’ll get physical therapy and skilled nursing care until she is ready to go home (if she ever can) in a month or so.   So I’ll be visiting her tomorrow in her new "home".  We’ll see how it goes. 

The bottom line is I can’t allow myself be abused like that, as it obviously takes a terrible toll on me.