Inpatient

The last couple of days have been extremely stressful and interesting. It seems that my life doesn't really slow down or stay normal for long. If it's not one thing it's another and this weekend it all revolved around my mother. On Friday evening I admitted her to a 21 day treatment facility for an eating disorder and depression. This was a strange experience for two reasons. First, for most of my life my mother has had a problem with food but it has usually always been overeating. For as long as I can remember my mother was severely obese. In fact, most of us children have been or still are overweight. I know that being overweight in my adulthood stems from my own choices but I do believe that bad habits were instilled in me as a young child from my mother’s bad eating habits. When we were younger we never really ate fruits or veggies. We mainly ate fast food, fried food and processed food. I know that this is mainly because they were less expensive meaning we could afford them but still it didn't prepare me for learning to eat well. Up until two years ago I weighted over 200 pounds myself and I am under 30. However, two years ago I decided I had to make a change and have been on a path of losing weight and eating well since. I have lost over 50 pounds but still have about 20 pounds to go. It's a long, grueling road but I will make it.

Oops, I got off track let's get back to my point. My mother was always overweight and constantly ate. However, about a year ago she decided she needed a change at got a gastric bypass. I was surprise she made it through the screening process but she did. Fast forward to know. She still has a complex with food but now to the other extreme. She doesn't eat. She is underweight. She can't keep her blood sugar stable and often faints for lack of food. I have caught her many times chewing her food and spiting it out so she can taste it but not get the calories. It wasn't until about two weeks ago when she fainted and almost broke her knee that I realized she needed more help that the traditional counseling she was receiving bringing us to Friday night when I drove her an hour away to check her into a center. She agreed she needed help but still it was strange because I have known her more of my life as the overeater not the under eater.

The second reason it was strange is because I was checking her in. Now, I am familiar with my mother being in a treatment center. This has happened a few times in my life but this is the first time I have ever had to check her in. Typically I just hear about her being admitted and either just call to check in (if she lives far away) or would go see her. This is the first time I have had to deal with the paperwork, the doctors, the glances from the staff, and the stress of having to get everything together to be approved to be admitted and then have to rush to get her admitted before the weekend. They offered to let us wait till Monday, but I know if we did she would back out. So Friday was filled with getting a power of attorney, doctor referrals, organizing bills and more just to check her in.

Next, I had to spend an hour in the car with my mother trying to keep her calm as we head there. It was difficult because she was nervous which is understandable. Upon, arriving we had to wait to be checked in and then go through an hour long session of questions and medications before we could officially sign her in and get her a bed. It was weird being in charge of all this. Of speaking up for my mother and making sure the doctors know what is going on. It was weird pointing out her problems to a person while she is sitting there. Even though this is what she needs and they need to know what is going on it felt like betraying her. It was odd.

I think what made it worse was when I left. I got in my car and drove home. It was a long hour of having to call people to let them know what was going on and why they wouldn't be able to reach her. But what was most frustrating was the lack of support and sympathy from my sisters. Especially my closest sister who I thought would understand and odd it was for me and how stressful it was but instead she just kind of shrugged it off. After a day of preparing and the stress of it all she didn't seem to care. It was so frustrating and sad because I felt alone. My husband was supportive but he wasn't with me because he was home with T. I needed my sisters to understand but no one did. No one cared what it was like for me but instead just shrugged off the experience like "just another day with mom".

So there it is. My mom is inpatient right now receiving help. I am proud of her for being willing but am frustrated because it's a long 21 days not just for her but for me, my husband and T. We have to deal with the incoming calls from doctors, from her wanting to come home. We have to deal with the awkward visitations on the weekend. We have to watch her yappy, annoying dog that my husband despises for 21 days. All to pick her up and have to work hard when she gets home to help her continue to recover to make sure she doesn’t relapse and is moving forward. It's exhausting and I wish my sisters would understand that.

On a side note, this weekend T spent the night with a friend and they woke up to a gas leak at the house and gas poisoning. So we spent Sunday worried about him and watching over him. He seems good today but it was another thing that made this weekend extra stressful. I hope this next week is much less crazy but we will see. I am just starting my new fertility meds so there could be some interesting side effects with that.