Hubbin and the MIL had a shouting match followed by a serious discussion tonight. About her wanting to move back to her house and him trying numerous ways to explain that it’s not safe and she’s not thinking right.
Today I spent an hour or two avoiding the situation and ‘going out for coffee’ then when I got home she and I set off on what would become an hour long odyssey to sign her up for the senior citizens taxi service. After she wrote down the address wrong TWICE leading my GPS to the complete wrong area of town and FOUR phone calls to the moronic woman giving terrible directions we got that squared away. But by the time we arrived I was about over the edge of life.
Then hubbin came home. I know it’s much harder on him than on me. Not only is he dealing with the mother he remembers changing and fear of what will ultimately happen to her, but I know he doesn’t appreciate not feeling like his living room is his own anymore either. She is very sweet and has been cleaning the downstairs and doing the dishes — but things are ending up in strange places already (which is what got her key confiscated not long after we got married, because she would come ‘clean’ and our dustbuster would be MIA til months later when you would find it on a self in the garage behind a bin) Tonight hubbin told her relocating our things was not okay. And told me she’s behaving, “like a cat pissing in the corner, she’s angry to be here so she’s piled all my stuff on the steps and her stuff is strewn all about while she’s ‘cleaning'”
In the past 5 years both my grandmothers succumbed to alzheimers and it’s awful to see it starting again and the effect it has on everyone around it.