45 days later
Six weeks and three days after the shock of seeing my fall marathon photos, yesterday I hit and slightly surpassed my goal weight. Here's what 139.6 pounds of f.z. looks like:
Sorry about the crappy lighting. Hopefully, you can see the beginnings of my baby six-pack.
That's a US size six you're looking at, which translates to 28.25 inches (a 2.75 inch drop) around the waist. I feel So. Much. Better.
That's the good news. The bad? Well, I'm at my mom's place on the West Coast, and I can't say it's been a good visit so far. My mom's physical abilities have deteriorated alarmingly just in the past couple of weeks. Two nights ago, she woke me up at 2:00 in the morning after spending an hour unable to get up and go to the bathroom. I couldn't get her up: I like to think I'm stronger than the average forty-something woman, but I can't lift my 165-pound mom. After another hour of struggling and an unfortunate bathroom accident, I had to call paramedics in to get my mom standing. I was done sleeping (I had all of three hours), but I had a full day of work to put in after that.
One incident like that would be bad enough, but this morning we did it all over again. After my mom woke me up calling for help because she couldn't stand, I lost an hour and a half begging and pleading with her to let me phone for help. I finally gave her the phone and left the room because I couldn't handle it any more. Half an hour later, she picked up the phone and asked for help herself.
My mom needs assisted living; that's obvious. She totally refuses.
I think it's safe to say that my mom's judgment as far as her own safety and independence are concerned is horrible. At the same time, she's an adult with rights and a very strong will, and I need to respect the decisions she makes for her own life.
To say that this situation is frustrating is an understatement in the extreme. I'm trying my damndest to respect her wishes and decisions, and I'm also trying not to shield her too much from the consequences of bad decision-making. At the same time, however, it's not my mom cleaning urine off the carpet. It's me. More importantly, if this is what's happening while I'm here, what the heck is going to happen when I leave next week?
I don't know what to do here, folks. I'd welcome your suggestions.
If I hadn't gotten the religion back about general fitness and especially weight lifting, by the way, the last few days certainly would have done it. While a large part of my mom's problems stem both from the stroke and from a neurological disorder (think Michael J Fox) that I have no reason to believe is hereditary, the fact that she suddenly doesn't have the strength to reliably lift herself out of a sitting position is huge motivation to me to get stronger and stay that way.
Have you had any special challenges to face with aging parents? What happened and how did you handle it?

