My ill mum makes me feel so guilty

DEAR BEL

I AM 44, happily married with two children, eight and four. Like many working mums (three days a week spent t eaching), I have little free time.

My father has Alzheimer’s and needs much attention, even with a live-in carer. My mother- i n- l aw also has dementia, so my husband spends much of his time looking after her.

This brings me to my mum — always selfish, I’m afraid.

She has MS; Dad looked after her until he couldn’t manage; she refused carers. Now she’s in a good nursing home — but l eaves me constantly feeling guilty.

I realise it’s awful having MS and living in a home, but all she does is moan.

She never asks about my job or even the children or Dad. Now my children hate to visit — though I do take them.

No matter how much time I give, she wants more. If I say I’m going to lunch with a friend, she’ll comment: ‘Surprised you’ve got time.’ She seems jealous of the children. If I mention how well they are doing at piano, she’ll tell me they do too many activities. So many nasty comments.

She’ll c o mpar e me (unfavourably) to others who visit their parents every day. I say they’re retired with adult children — plus I have Dad and my mother-in-law.

She doesn’t listen, just huffs. The other day I popped in with the children (a surprise visit) who chatted, but she didn’t look up from her tablet computer game. Another resident mentioned a trip out and Mum looked up and said: ‘Oh, she’s too busy to take me anywhere.’ But I’d taken her for an afternoon out three days before.

After that visit, for the first time I’ve seen she’s phoned and haven’t returned the call. Needless to say, I feel really guilty. What is the way forward?

ANNE

The other day a neighbour told me: ‘We should all send up fervent prayers that we don’t turn into curmudgeonly old people.’ That mani sin his 70 sand (rather like me!) has a tendency to think that, in the main, things don’t get better. It seems natural that people do become slightly more grumpy as they age, because (quite frankly) waving goodbye first to youth and then to middle age is not much fun.

So it ’s very easy to let slip sentiments like, ‘exams were proper tests when I was young’ and ,‘ Today’ s music is just noise’ and so on. half the time we may be uttering God’s own truth — but that doesn’t stop it being boring.

If all selfish people are trying , the opinionated and selfcentred elderly can be (sadly) the most trying of all.

That’s why this story is a lesson to us all. The plentiful detail of your longer email convinces me that you genuinely want the best for your mother, want her to be happy and f eel defeated by her relentless negativity. Who can blame you?

At the same time, I notice that you don ’t make it clear whether she actually agreed to go into that home happily , or whether she had to be persuaded.

You do mention in your much longer unedited letter that she has become more demanding since living there, which makes me wonder how much of a wrench it was for her to give up her own home and her marriage (in effect) at the same time. Y ou note (in your email) that ‘friends and relatives, even my brother , no longer visit very often.’ Doesn ’t this fact somewhat alleviate your guilt?

It proves that others also find your mother difficult and therefore you deserve credit for your routine visits. It ’s important that you focus on this — because guilt can become so corrosive it makes you more resentful, stops you doing the very things that you should do, and thus increases the downwards spiral of recrimination. There’s no point to it.

In the same postbag I had a heartfelt email from Rachel, whose mother’s character has changed quite horribly because of dementia, causing enormous distress.

It’s a very sad story — but (again) it’s hard to know what to say . except this; you can only do your best.

You can no more be a perfect child to an imperfect (including physically) parent than you can fly . Therefore you must accept all limitations — because there is no choice.

In your case, Anne, I would continue with the regular visits, take the children along (with activities for them to do) and face your mother’s moans with a determined smile. As you are doing.

Phone her back , but do not allow her to think you can be bullied. The people around her will notice what you do for her — and so will she, underneath it all.

And in the end, when she’s gone, you will be glad you did.