Yamaneko

This morning I quit the job, effective December 31. My dream of a Ph. D. by 2011 has gone down the tubes, and I'm convinced that I'm making a grave error yet consoled that every life change I've made has felt like a grave error, so that means nothing. I'll be moving back to her house, which fills me with dread, though less dread than the status quo. The level of anger is down, now that it looks like I'll have occasional snatches of rest and peace. Being that this is the United States, I hope that I'm eligible for some sort of health insurance like COBRA after December 31, but that does not seem likely. The situation is compounded by the fact that I was diagnosed with depression (moderate major depressive syndrome) in 1993 and two of the four episodes I've gone through were triggered by family crises in which Mom played a huge part. (Suicide is not an option -- why kill myself when I can sell my car and hop a bus or train anywhere in the country?) I'm under medication, but the bloody insurance comes into play again. So now I'm worried about how I'll manage the budget and manage to scrape together enough money working from home to pay my credit-card bills and my insurance. Oh well, one day at a time, and if that's too broad, one hour at a time.

:Tantrum: :ranting: I have only been a caregiver for two months, I don't have to do some of the horror-story tasks like lifting my mother into the bathtub, cleaning her after bowel movements or spoon-feeding her three meals a day in one side of her mouth. She can walk, she can talk, and she can make me wish that my recent cold was in fact swine flu with some of the guilt trips she lays and the invidious comparisons she makes with her friends (whose kids keep the home spotless...) . When the fever hit 101.6, I was hoping for 102 or 103. I have a job that requires me to spend 16 hours/week out of the house and on the road, and on my way back she calls me 4-6 times -- "I'M WORRIED ABOUT YOU!" Never mind that if I answered when she called, I could run my car into a ditch or get killed in a hundred interesting ways by the trucks and lunatic drivers on a rain-sodden expressway. I'm also falling behind with my work, since most days the caregiving lasts until 7 pm; chances are good that I will lose my job in December for underperformance. Today was an exception -- apparently I said "I can't breathe!" in my sleep and that scared her into letting me work somewhat unmolested today. Continually threatening my own death, however, is probably not a strategy conducive to my sanity or her recovery. Anyway, the guilt-tripping resumed at 6 pm. She has also taken a liking to my church -- I should be happy but this means that the 2-3 hours each week I have to myself that are not on an expressway have disappeared. I need to find someone to sit with her, but between work and taking care of her I forget until after the office is closed. She's quite pleasant and witty to her friends and nurses, so that's not too much of a fear. It got to the point where I was wishing my persistent cough (5 weeks) were something like pneumonia or cancer, that way I could be left alone. Then she goes on about how terrible it would be to be alone; there is nothing that I crave now more that a few hours or days alone, perhaps with the cats. There is only one family member left, and he lives 700+ miles away. I'm not a patient man -- I know that lots of what is driving me mad is the stroke and probably distressing her as much as it is distressing me. I am starting to understand just why some parents get left in a nursing home and never visited, and that scares me. Rant over.