One of the most intense emotional struggles I have ever been through was with myself and my mother over her independence. Mom is a very independent person by nature; she is not only unlikely to accept help from other people, but she is also a person who prefers her own company. She has never had many friends and does not like to join groups.
As my mother aged and gave up driving, she began to rely on me to take her to her many medical appointments. It is the only thing she would ask for, and not only did she appreciate the ride, but she let me manage her myriad of prescriptions and doctor's appointments for her many chronic conditions.
Over the last five years, I would try to get her to accept help from various sources, all to no avail. "No, I don't think so", she would say, turning up her nose at me. When I talked to her about moving into a private Assisted Living environment, closer to me, I got a firm "I don't want to move."
The intense emotional struggle over who was in charge was largely with myself. It seemed impossible for me to insist with any authority that my mother accept unwanted help or change living arrangements. She was my mother, right? As well as her being in charge for so many years, I also struggled with her right to make decisions that affected her life. As her psychiatrist pointed out to me, as recently as one month before her move to Long Term Care, I was just going to have to learn not to worry.
Over time, my health and well-being began to suffer with the stress of being my mother's sole source of support. I became desperate to get others involved in her care and latterly knew that she was not safe living alone. I was a 40 minute drive from her condominium.
I reached a point where I knew I was going to have to exercise my authority and insist that she get some additional help - if only for my sake. It was time I accepted that Mom was demented, and just as I would not permit a three year old to make decisions regarding her care, I could no longer allow her this power. She was incapable of making sound judgements. (For excellent reading on this, check out Your Name Is Hughes Hannibal Shanks: A Caregiver's Guide to Alzheimer's by Lela Knox Shanks.)
