You Are Not Alone

The decision to put your parent into a care facility has to be one of the hardest and most heart-breaking decisions you'll ever make. Sue Pritchard shares her recent experience in the hope it may help others in a similar situation.

Sophie, the lovely Labrador, vising a local nursing home.

This most certainly isn’t a prize-wining photo. It is however a photo that makes my heart sing.

It’s my dog Sophie pictured in a local nursing home – bringing a smile to my face and those of the residents living there too.

I’ve ummed and ahhhed about sharing this publicly for a while now, because even though I pride myself on writing about real life, sometimes the stories aren’t always mine to share. And there are also those times when it feels inappropriate to be telling them.

But I think I’d like to share it with you now.

Overwhelming

This photo of Sophie was taken at the weekend when visiting my mum - in the nursing home we sent her to at the end of January. It’s the place where she will live out the rest of her life. And if you’ve ever had to make that decision yourself, you’ll know what I mean when I say the emotional, financial, and logistical burden is overwhelming - almost incalculable.

Then of course you also have the guilt, doubt and worry that follows in the wake of the most difficult decision you’ve ever had to make in your life – a decision that impacts your parent’s life a damn site more than it does yours. And even though you know this is the best decision for them, the only decision you can make for them to ensure they can live out their remaining years safely and in better health, it is immeasurably hard.

If you’ve been in a similar situation, you’ll also know I’m not being dramatic if I tell you I feel like I’m losing my mum. Seventeen years ago I mourned the death of my much-loved dad. Now I’m grieving the loss of my mum in a very different way. It almost feels like a betrayal to mourn the loss of a loved one you once knew, when they are still very much here on this earth. And it is so so sad, because regardless of how old we are - even when we’re in our 50s - we’re still that little child at heart who needs a hug from their mum or dad.

Regardless of how old we are, we’re still that little child at heart who needs a hug from their mum or dad.

Unprepared

My mum’s health took a real nosedive last year but her admission to a nursing home was a bolt out of the blue. We were totally unprepared. My dad had died suddenly at 63 years of age and so we’d never had to face a similar situation with him. And then my nan, one of the most independent and strong women I’ve ever known, only reluctantly went into a care home several months before she died at the grand old age of 103!

So things such as power of attorney and other financial and administrative issues were not the things we’d prepared for. Indeed, a few years ago, my mum (who’s still not officially classified as being an elderly person) was the last person we’d have expected to need them.

Once you’ve got your loved one into a home though, the heartache doesn’t stop there. I’ve likened it to leaving your offspring at school for the first time. It grinds your heart to a pulp. Are they as unhappy as they make out? Can you really believe everything they’re telling you? And are these strangers honestly taking the best care of your loved one?

And then come the tears – theirs and yours. The anger and frustration. The guilt that you’re not visiting enough and then even more guilt when it’s suggested you stay away for longer to help them settle. And boy, this hurts. You feel as if you’re abandoning them. I mean, how would we feel in their shoes?

And as a menopausal, oversensitive empath with ADHD traits, this is why it’s been one of the most confusing and emotionally overwhelming times of my life.

Grieving

It’s still early days but things are very slowly showing signs of improvement. Last week, my mum laughed for the first time in months. Admittedly, it was at someone else’s misfortune, but I took that as a win! And I’m trying not to get too hopeful but she’s also mentioning a few more names of people she loosely calls friends.

Don’t get me wrong though, there are still some very hard days.

Is it wrong to dread visiting every time because I really don’t know what I’ll be faced with?

Is it wrong to only want to visit with someone else as my mum seems more amicable to be around?

Is it wrong to miss the mum who used to voice her concern about me and always remember what my family was up to?

Is it wrong to shy away from undesirable characteristic traits, stripped bare for all to see, because at the end of the day I only ever want to view her from behind rose-tinted glasses, and as the adult and parent in our relationship?!

(And is it also wrong that for me, the hands down, best part of my mum’s nursing home is that we can bring the dog in to visit her?!)

I’ve come to realise sending a loved one to a care or nursing home brings a different dimension to grieving. It’s something we’ll never get over but is something we will eventually have to learn to live with. And hopefully, they will too.

I also know it isn’t the solution for everyone but don’t ever feel judged for making the decision that is best for your loved ones and you. No one can fully understand the complexity involved until they are in a similar situation themselves.

Thank You

And finally, I’d like to give the most resounding thank you to all the carers and nursing staff out there. They are the people we clapped for during the pandemic, and they are also the people society has once again left behind because they are carrying out the most difficult, thankless and demanding tasks many of us aren’t brave enough, or capable of doing ourselves.

So thank you.

You Are Not Alone

I didn’t know if I wanted to share this story with you just yet. After all, it’s more about my mum than me. And sadly, even though she was my biggest supporter when I tentatively started to write my book three years ago, she’ll probably never read this.

But then a friend suggested it might be a good idea, therapeutic even, to share my thoughts and feelings with you. A lot of your readers are also middle-aged women with ageing parents, she said, so there are probably a few out there experiencing the same thing.

And she’s right. After bashing away at the keyboard here for a while, I don’t feel so alone now. And if you’re facing up to something similar, I hope you know you’re not alone too.

I see you. I hear you. And I’m thinking of you.

Sue pictured with her mum back in 2000.