uncomfortable

Well, she's started eating again, and she seems a bit more alert. Nate's here, and we're trying to get things cleaned up and sorted out. It's very creepy to be stripping the house and deciding how to dispose of Mom's stuff while she's still lying there in the living room, listening.

We've been trying to make sure we caregivers get out at least once a day, but I guess I've been gone too much, because Mom's complaining. This makes me feel very squeezed, and irritated. Robert keeps calling to ask me exactly what is going to happen, when will I be home, should he cancel the Spain trip, should he bring the kids out here, what? We all know what is going to happen, but nobody knows when, but he keeps asking, like if he nags me enough an answer will miraculously appear. Which is also fucking creepy, because Mom can hear every word I say, no matter where I am in the house, so my half of that phone conversation has to be heavily censored. It is nice that he misses me, and the kids do too - I rather like feeling needed - but I also feel pulled in opposite directions.

Meanwhile, Mom's getting ... um, querulous is a good word. Annoyed when I spend time with anyone but her, but I can't watch TV - well I can watch, but I can't listen because the sound annoys her, and today Nate and I tried to watch a football game (Seattle vs. Houston) without sound, but she got mad at us for talking about it. And I "wear her out" when I'm bustling around cleaning and organizing things. So yeah. What little shine there was on this trip is wearing off real fast.

But we talked with Jerry about it, about how much time out of our busy lives we can really afford, and I said I didn't feel I could stay beyond the 30th of October or so. He said well, by then she will either have died or stabilized, and in either case, I can reasonably go away. Fortunately, Nate is the executor of her will, not me, so he's the one who will have to come back and deal with stuff. Even more fortunately, he doesn't mind.

I can't believe how much I miss my family.