I am all cried out this morning. Yesterday did NOT go well. Not that I expected it would, but I did expect to be able to get out of mum and dad's house without a screaming match. Stupid me. I managed to get away from there just before bursting into tears, whereupon I went and sat on my friends porch crying for an hour waiting for her to get home. The tears came again in the middle of the night after rehashing the events of the day and realising that yet again my mother has managed to make me feel like a horrible person.
I'm exhausted. Monkey Boy, who sat up with me and helped talk me through the anguish, is also exhausted. Spudly took the opportunity to start a bit of enthusiastic dancing on my cervix to let me know that he/she actually is still alive.
Apart from the usual crap that she spews forth in these situations (nothing wrong, not having help, blah blah) she also took the opportunity to let me know that:
- If I hadnt left her at the supermarket that day she would never have had the fall and wouldnt be injured in the first place.
- I dont care about her at all, I only care about my father.
- I dont care about anyone but myself.
- I'm an interfering, problem-causing bitch.
- I've never done anything to help them before so why start now.
- I should just go home and leave her alone and not come back.
Dad's GP is very concerned about the situation, very concerned about mum's fall and the fact that she hasnt had any treatment, and very concerned about the level of care (or lack thereof) that dad is getting. But here's the thing: our wonderful health system seems to operate on the premise that the patient has to want assistance before they can receive it. Yes, that's right. Ask the crazy person if they're insane. Even if I could get an ACAT (Aged Care Assessment Team) through the door, they will ask dad (with dementia) if he needs help, and ask my mum (lying, in denial, stubborn and/or suffering head trauma or complete breakdown) if she needs help. Neither one will say yes, so they wont get help.
And that is the bottom line. I could go to the Supreme Court to have the Medical Power of Attorney declared invalid. Which, it turns out, it is, since dad already had dementia when he signed it. Then I would have to apply for Guardianship of dad, if not both of them. And then what? I'm solely responsible for every single decision about my parents lives while trying to get through this pregnancy and deal with a new baby? Monkey Boy made it perfectly clear that even if I were insane enough to consider this option, he would put both feet firmly down and absolutely forbid it.
I feel like no matter what I do at this point, I am doing the wrong thing. If I do everything possible to help my parents, I'm putting my own health and Spudly's at risk. If I look after myself and Spud then I'm putting my parents' health at risk. If I accept that the system is fucked then I am condoning it, helping to perpetuate its fuckedness and letting down people who manifestly need help.
There is nothing I can do to help my parents without - ultimately - compromising the health of Spudly. Therefore the only thing I can do is walk away. And this sits very painfully with me.