by Elizabeth M Young

Created on: August 05, 2009   Last Updated: August 06, 2009

I just found out that my Mom is in a nursing home after having a fall, a mild stroke, and apparent onset of dementia. We had a terrible time about four years ago, when I became gravely ill after taking care of her for ten years. Let's just say that the things that she said expressed a cold and terrible fury aimed at me and concerning her own well being at a time when the doctors didn't know if I was even going to live. Her worst words were "You're not one of mine. I wish you'd just died."

At the time, several people asked if she was senile or had Alzheimer's. But her doctor assured me that she didn't have those things. I suspect that she did.

The situation got so horrible that I had to leave and make a new home in the world, recovering on my own and leaving that ugliness behind. I had intended to let her children take care of her until I found out that she couldn't drive any more. My independent and formidable Mom was now on the decline. For almost three years, hardly able to move after I got home, I still made the two hour trip to make sure that she got out to shop for food and to see a little bit of the world, took her to her doctors appointments, and checked to see if her children were taking care of her. They weren't. She was all alone.

Then, her son retired and came to live with her and she made it quite apparent that I was supposed to forget that all of the hatefulness had happened. I hadn't seen or heard from her for two years, when, today, I got a call from her son, who ceased to be my brother when he got abusive and more concerned about his own fortunes out of all of this, including the house that I was supposed to inherit after propping up my Mom financially and personally for over 15 years of my life.

He's still making his sales pitches for his wonderful life and activities. As if nothing ever happened.

I've learned a lot about dysfunction, since I left, and have made my peace about my former family members and their ability to compartmentalize; to be Doctor Jekyll to outsiders, and Mr Hyde toward me. The only problems occur when they expect me to forget everything and to get back into the status quo as if nothing ever happened. They will never change. They will never get better. They will never regain my trust. They will never know where I live, and I will never be alone with them again. I will never not have the PtSD that resulted from discovering that they cared more about getting the life insurance money and some sadistic satisfaction

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