Decisions Made... We Think

      The Mama's health is worsening. 

     I had hoped she was improving since my visit earlier this fall. (Daughter #2 and Son #1 had cared for her before I got there, and were also sanguine that she might improve.) At the very least, I'd hoped she could hang in there until after hunting season in mid-October. After saving his points for decades, the Brick finally won a much-competed-for permit to a local guide ranch. We both wanted him to be able to take advantage of this. 

     He will...but the Mama is no better. She no longer trusts her legs when walking, and her fear of falling has made even trudging to the bathroom, leaning on the walker, a 30-minute nightmare. She would use a wheelchair more often...but she is nearly impossible to lift out of it. Even her bed has been moved into the living room, rather than make her struggle on the way to the bedroom. 

     Our family has been enormously helped by visits from family members -- plus a special cousin who has cheerfully stayed with The Mama most of her time off. (She works nights, then comes back to The Mama's to sleep and care for her.) Other cousins, plus the rest of the family, have stopped by to visit and help out. 

So grateful for them. 

      The maple and pear trees by The Mama's house

     After much talk, including reviewing options, it seems clear: the Mama needs protracted (and muscular) help. We've been so grateful for our cousin...but she needs to have her life back, too. Hiring 12- or 24-hour help is very expensive. So the answer is clear:

     A care facility. 

     Neither of us is thrilled about this. I worked in care facilities during college. Some are better than others, of course, but at the best, they're often just 'care' -- and that's it. Benign neglect. The local home, only a few miles from The Mama's farm, isn't bad. I've been there often to visit family and friends -- and we've volunteered there, as well. But...The Mama staying there?

    There is, quite frankly, not much choice. 

    She needs people who can respond 24/7 when she has problems -- or to help lift her in and out of chairs, bed, etc. There's more room for her to use a wheelchair, as well. She needs immediate help for medical issues. They'll help her bathe, cover her meals and do her laundry. The price per month is stiff, but not insurmountable. 

     Yesterday the family packed up furniture and helped Mom move in. (She's currently in a 'luxury' room, which was the only thing available. Maybe she'll move to a 'basic' room when it opens up -- maybe not.) Meanwhile, we'll clear out and pack up here, to get ready to move. I need to get every single appraisal report sent out, and finish up a restoration. If the Brick does get an animal (and we hope he does), we'll also need to process the meat. We'll take some with us, and leave some on our shelf in our landlord's freezer. 

    And then we'll head for Michigan. 

   

photo by a family member

 Plans are to go sometime after Oct. 19. We'll stay in The Mama's barnyard as long as needed this fall...and most probably winter. That way, we can look after the farm -- and spend days with The Mama while she gets used to this new change in her world. 

     Some good can come out of this. First and foremost is the fact that we CAN be with The Mama, because we can literally move our "house" nearly 2000 miles away. We could never have done this before selling the Castle Rock property. Second, because The Mama will be in residence elsewhere, we can bring the dogs. (They were banned before this, for fear of her tripping over them.) And finally, we'll be able to spend time with the Michigan part of the family, including several much-loved cousins. We've rarely had more than a quick visit -- now we should be able to see them regularly. There will still be a week or so left to enjoy Michigan's glorious autumn colors.

 These are all good things.

   

  On less of a bright side, it will probably mean living in the Mitten State during some of the dreariest months of the year. (I grew up there, and can handle it to some degree. But for the Brick, it is harder. We both had difficulty last November.) It means giving up any plans we had for the winter, including going back to volunteer at McNeal. And of course, we must leave our world here in Colorado: friends, church, activities. Our kind landlords haven't complained about their caretakers pulling up stakes for a while. (Fortunately, someone else can watch over the ranch until we return.) It means uncertainty -- we have little idea how long The Mama will need us to stay. I do not look forward to most probably missing the holidays with our children, either -- we've had to do it before, and I was really hoping we could be together this year. 

     But it seems clear that we need to go.