The Move

It was an agressive plan. 

I thought it had to be. 

A Celebration of life party on Oct 25th, the moving truck ariving on the 28th. Drive the four hours to Lancaster. Unload on the 29th. Get the cat on the 30th 

I have stage four cancer. 

She has Alzheimer's.

I'm her primary caregiver. 

We needed to implemepent our plan B. Our third plan B.

To make matters more difficult, my cancer was acting out. My belly hurt, my hip hurt, and the surgery on my scalp hurt. I took an oxycodone for pain, and a Promethazine for nausa.  Of course, I also took two Stimulant to head of constipation.

I was drugged.

I also taken too much of the 'anti-atigation' medician that hospice gave me.  I had forgoten they said take only 1/2 the dose printed on the label.  I took too much.

At the party I felt like I was drunk.  I remember very little of it.  

Jen and Jesse left that afternoon after saying they would be back to help on the loading day.  That, as it worked out, would save the plan.  

On Oct 28, I had gotten up at 4:30 am to finish the packing.  

At 8:50 am. Rita and Alison took Sophie to get her shots so we could qualify to take her to Homestead  Village.

At 10:00 am Jen and Jessee arrived. I had just started packing the kitchen.

Three of us packed like mad.

Rita, Alison, and Sophie got back aroun noon.  

The moving truck hadn't arrived. 

I called them. 

Rita went around trying to help, but in reality, just caused trouble.

Jen chased after her mom, trying to keep her from making a total mess of things. 

We convienced Rita that she and Jen should leave and take Sophie, still in the crate, should go to Jen's house for the night.  We would follow when the movers were done.

The van got there around 2:00.  Three strong, young, capable men started loading the truck while I finished packing my office and trying to rest. Jesse managed the movers. 

Jesse and I left about an hour after the moving van.  I was exhausted and still sick.  I threw up after being on the road for an hour. I called hospice.  I never got their call back.

We arrived at Jen and Jesse's house around 11:30 pm.  I crawed in bed with Rita then got back out of bed to throw up again.  She never heard me.

The next morning we drove two cars to Homestead to meet the movers at 10:30 am. I got the keys to my apartment and while Jesse and I started to unload my stuff from my car, the movers arrived to unload Rita's stuff into her room. 

I gave Jesse the furniture layout for Rita's room and he left me to manage that activity. 

I stayed in my apartment while they unloaded Rita's stuff. 

We broke for lunch, then they unloaded my fruniture.

My apartment got very small.  I wondered if I had made a bad decision to bring a queen bed instead of a twin.

Later that night, when I crawed into bed, I decided the decision was correct.

Sophie kept me awake most of the night.

Rita's room felt smaller. Where I had a small kittchenett, she had a large walk-in closet.  Where I had only one chair, she had three.

Not all was just moving furniture and unpacking boxes.  There were some painful moments. 

"I can't live like this." she said in tears.

I was lost as to how to comfort her.  We had to make this work. There were no options. I held her and tried to hid my own tears.  

"There is nothing here for me.  I'm locked up in this room. I can't do any art. There is no creative outlet for me here. I can't cook.  I can't do anything I love doing.   I can't live like this.  I rather jump out that second story window."

She was correct.

I hurt for her so much.

The staff rather have the residents in their room where they don't cause them to work.  If they come out of their rooms, the night shift staff can't watch TV or take naps. They are not really interested in the residents. They just want to get throught the night themsleves.  The residents are not interested in the welfare of other residents.  They act crazy, repeating themselves, saying crazy things, or are depressed to the point of vacent stares or sleep.  They are also our loved ones.

That was our first full day at Homestead. Oct 31.

I hurt, physically, mentally, and emotionally.