I feel guilty for checking my mother into long-term care against her will
CBC
This First Person column is written by Karen Wilson who provides support to her parents in Sherwood Park, Alta. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
"Find your own way home!" my mom screeched as she rolled up her car window. I jumped back, narrowly avoiding crushed fingers.
"Drive Terry!" she ordered as she pinched my dad's thigh.
"Stop it Mom! Dad's not going anywhere!" I screamed, losing my patience yet again.
My dad looked defeated and beaten. For close to two hours, my mom had stubbornly resisted our cajoling, pleading and arguing as we tried to get her out of the vehicle and into Villa Caritas, a geriatric psychiatric hospital and the only place in Edmonton that could handle her.
She has aggressive Alzheimer's. And it's a hard thing to admit, but like many Canadian families trying to care for older relatives, we reached the point where our family couldn't handle the swearing, hitting and other behaviour anymore.
At Villa Caritas, the health-care team — a psychiatrist, nurse and orderly — were patiently standing by to admit my mom but it took the hospital's security guard to convince her to get out of the car. I missed that because I was anxiously pacing and sobbing uncontrollably in the hospital's foyer.
She was restrained in a wheelchair and became agitated as she was wheeled past me. "Traitor!" she screamed.
Tears continued to pour down my face as my mom's accusation cut my heart into tiny pieces. I was overwhelmed by guilt because I had done all the legwork that brought her here. Granted, my dad was signing the legal documents but I had made all the arrangements since emotionally he couldn't.
What kind of evil, terrible daughter was I?
My 82-year-old mother has always been high-strung (her siblings' words) but her generation would never admit to having mental issues. My mom's embarrassing, erratic behaviour was our family secret.
We were so used to dealing with her undiagnosed anxiety that we didn't see the worsening aggressiveness of her Alzheimer's.
A few years ago, my youngest sister and I began looking into support to help both our parents. That's when our rollercoaster journey through the convoluted and confusing health-care system began.
My mom developed physical problems, such as a broken tailbone after falling down a flight of stairs. My dad covered as much as he could for my mom, even taking her out of the hospital against medical advice. He desperately wanted to believe she was going to get better but he eventually was forced to admit her memory was failing.