…but somehow I didn’t expect it to be so hard. I didn’t anticipate the way grief and frustration and fear sneak up on me at the strangest moments (usually when I’m out in public, strolling the grocery aisles for instance, when the last thing I want to do is burst into tears).
I spent two hours yesterday signing away my mother’s life. In a little over a week, she’ll move from rehab to her new home, a local assisted living place with a memory care unit, where she’ll remain until her money runs out, at which point we’ll file for Medicaid and have to move her again because this facility (like most of these for-profit places) don’t accept Medicaid.
I pray to God that she’s either dead long before then, or so deep into dementia that she doesn’t know what’s happening. I’ll know, though….and it’s coming to terms with that which is spinning my head.
Yes, I know I’m getting way ahead of myself, borrowing trouble as a friend of mine would put it. It’s hard not to. I way to ferret out every bump in the road, every possible problem, every suspected horror. I can’t…I know I can’t…but that doesn’t keep me from trying.