My brother refuses to put Mum in a care home, yet wont take her to live with him apparently, theres no room!
For the past three months, my brother and I have been going around in circles over what to do about Mum. Ever since her stroke, shes not been quite herself. Memory all over the place, never a dull moment and she needs somebody with her at all times. Care is absolutely non-negotiable. Guess whos shouldered the lot? Thats right: me. I swear, its basically like looking after a toddler only, you know, with slightly less Peppa Pig but much more existential angst. Ive got my own job, home, family. How exactly am I supposed to split myself in two? I suggested we find a care home, but my brother went off like a firework, accusing me of being some heartless monster. Of course, hes not about to whisk her off to his flat oh no, thats impossible. He lives with his wife, after all.
We used to be a proper little unit: the classic family of four. Just a year between us, my brother Peter and me. Our parents had us late-ish in life; Im 36 now, Peters 35, and Mum is 72. Everything ticked along nicely, right up until Dad pegged it. After that, Peter buggered off to university in another city, then got married and settled down there. Meanwhile, I stayed in our hometown, nesting in familiar territory. I lived with Mum and Dad while I got on my feet, but once I married, my husband and I rented with visions of someday owning our own place and raising kids. That was the grand dream.
Barely two years ago, Dad passed away, and Mum went from sparkle to sorrow overnight. She just faded. She was always a bit wobbly health-wise, and six months back had a stroke. For a while, we thought she wouldnt pull through. She struggled to speak, her limbs didnt do what they were told you get the picture. Then things improved physically, but neither time nor medicine could patch her up mentally.
Doctors said it was permanent. So, guess who became her nurse? I packed up my house, dragged my husband along, and moved in with Mum. I swapped my steady job for freelance work so I could keep an eye on her 24/7. There was no way we could leave her on her own. Once she had her mobility back, things didnt exactly get easier.
Shed ramble, wander, refuse to come home, burst into tears and insist Dad was waiting for her somewhere. Honestly, what a laugh. Sleep? Whats that? Most nights, Im convinced shes about to vanish out the door. As for work, well… good luck focusing for more than five minutes before being summoned for another mini crisis. My husband eventually suggested the care home route.
Its pricey seriously, you might as well hand over a small fortune in pound sterling but if were careful, we could just about swing it. My husband piped up: Dont forget your brother its only fair he chips in! And you know what? Fair enough.
I was torn for ages, but reality bites: what else can we do? How long is this supposed to go on? Mum would have proper round-the-clock care, actual medical professionals. I went to visit a home and checked everything out. Blimey, it costs a kings ransom, but whats the alternative?
So, I rang Peter and lay it all out no sugarcoating the situation. I was hoping for a bit of common sense, but of course, he went nuclear.
Have you lost your marbles? he hollered down the phone. How can you send your own mother to a care home? Its all strangers! Who knows how theyll treat her? Youre utterly cold-hearted! Plus he threw in, Or maybe you just want her out of your hair?
I tried reasoning with him, but he wasnt having any of it. So, I kept soldiering on with Mum. Eventually, I started to crack not sure how much longer I could be Superwoman. Raised the topic again with my brother, but his stance remained as rigid as a Chelsea pensioners posture.
He laid it on thick: Id never do that to Mum. She raised us, gave us a home, educated us. Shes always been there for us. We both owe her, so whys it all on you? If you dont like my solution, you can bring Mum to us. That way, Ill get my chance to be the doting son.
Then came his excuse: Well, you know I live in my wife Emilys flat how exactly do I convince her to look after her mother-in-law?
So I shot back: My husbands looking after his mother-in-law. Why cant Emily do the same?
He countered, You and your husband live with Mum, so naturally he helps, as if Id landed us there for fun.
I told Peter frankly that I could step away meaning he and Emily could come deal with it. But he hesitated: hes busy, work is demanding, he cant be distracted. Apparently, me even suggesting backing out just means I want rid of the responsibility.
Honestly, its like living in a soap opera. On one hand, I know Mum would be better off with proper care wed all breathe easier. On the other, I worry itll make me feel like the worlds worst daughter. My husbands very much in the shell be cared for move on with your life camp.
So Ive decided: one more week. If Peter doesnt swoop in, Ill put Mum in a care home. Its about time someone stopped simply giving advice, because only I know how tough this actually is. And if Peter wants to get creative with his excuses for his mates, let him Ive had quite enough of playing martyr, thank you very much.
