Podiatry and Drama

My mother's feet have a long, sordid history. She had surgery for bunions on her right foot several years ago, but the surgeon blundered it and her poor footsie came out worse than before. So then she had corrective surgery. That didn't work. It's very painful and it swells like a sponge in a Georgia swamp.

So on Thursday she had a 3rd surgery to correct the mistakes of the previous two surgeons. And my dad is an evil bastard about it! He seems to view the state of mom's foot as a moral failing, one entirely preventable by her, and only there because she wasn't of strong enough mettle. Which, in Dad's mind, means she shouldn't have any pain medication now. Because, you see, if she doesn't get pain medication for the foot which was ripped apart and then sewn back together, then she will be forced to confront it with moral character and the foot will magically heal itself. Or something. I can't actually begin to imagine what goes on in his head. I just know that he keeps trying to persuade me to not give her her pain meds; my favorite bullshit from him thus far: mom is "allergic" to pain medication.

Friday morning Dad took me aside and told me, "Now that you're a caretaker, taking care of your mom, you need to know some things. You have a right to demand that she do some things. I know that you care for her and have compassion, but you have to put that away and just command her. Just short, brief commands. Because she can't think or make decisions for herself, so we have to."

Okay, I'm supposed to 'put away' compassion and caring? She can't think for herself? I have to command her? She's not a ship! Try to imagine, for yourself, what he is like. He doesn't believe you can think (so he doesn't care about anything you say), he has no compassion, and he's demanding you do things. It's like living with an SS commander. I'm not leaving my mom alone with him. He believes it's within his rights to exercise his will over mom while she's in this incredibly vulnerable state - stuck in a recliner, can't walk, in immense pain. He's already reversing decisions on things they had made before the surgery, but what can she do? She can't get up or do anything to fight it. Ain't no way in hell I'm leaving her alone with that man.

But, sweet heavens, I'm tired. The last couple nights she and I haven't managed to get to bed 'til the wee hours of the morning because of the veritable logistics of it all.  And then I slept 6 hours this evening and woke up awake and rested at midnight. Hopefully I can stay awake tomorrow.