When you lose somebody there are different stages of grief that you go through - shock, denial, sadness, anger and acceptance. I think you can safely say I’ve reached the anger stage.
I’ve just come home from seeing Leeds carers. Basically they’ve told me that there are no guidelines, so far as they are aware, regarding keeping relatives informed, and that due to ‘confidentiality issues’ my Mother could have simply said that she didn’t want me to take care of her, and that would be enough. Whether she meant for ever, or just until something happened to her carer, wouldn’t matter. And, of course, they don’t have to tell me anything.
The problem is, I know what my mother is like I know that she will say black is pink to get attention. I know that one minute she will say Denis is horrible to her, and that he shouts and swears at her and sometimes hits her, the next minute Denis is wonderful and she didn’t know what she would do without him. I know because I’ve had dozens of phone calls saying that.
I wish, oh how I wish I hadn’t got back in touch with her after I moved. If I’d done that, I would have missed all the agony and stress of the past year and a half. I’ve lost so many days work, so much income, not to mention the stress the tears and the broken nights.
I keep thinking I should walk away, write the book so that people who want to know the truth can read it, and try to get on with my life. If I don’t do that, Mum’s poison is going to kill me.
Alas, that’s a lot easier said than done.
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