Once, many years back, my brother rang me to say that he and his family were heading off for a holiday. Not wanting to leave our mother alone, he asked if I could take her in while they were away. I didn’t mind, as he and his wife had been the ones mostly looking after Mum for some time. My mother had always been a difficult woman, capable of starting a row over the slightest thing.
At the time, I only had one bed in my flat, so I decided to let Mum have it and resigned myself to sleeping on the floor. All was peaceful at first, but when it came time to sleep, Mum began to complain she was terribly uncomfortable and something was digging into her back. The thing was, I had only recently bought that bed there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with it. Nevertheless, I fetched her an extra duvet, hoping that might help her settle in. No luck Mum was unable to rest and grew ever more agitated.
The next morning, I awoke, brewed myself a cup of tea, and started getting ready for work. Before I left the house, Mum called after me, Where are you off to? Who’s going to give me my injection?
Her question took me aback. No one had said a word to me about injections. I rang my brother, only to learn that Mum had always managed her own injections. Relieved, I hurried off to work, already an hour and a half behind schedule.
That evening, when I returned, I found Mum sprawled on the bed, breathing heavily. Lifting her up proved a real effort. It turned out she had eaten all sorts of foods she was forbidden to have, and now she was paying for it.
You dont care about me thats why this is happening. Youd rather I died, wouldnt you? Mum declared.
I cant just quit my job to look after you, I replied.
The truth is, Mums still quite capable of managing herself. Its just that a few years ago, my brother sold her old flat and bought himself a three-bedroom place. Thats when Mum started living with him. I simply dont know what to do with her constant whims. She behaves dreadfully, like a spoilt child but her tantrums are nothing like those of a child, for they bring me no joy at all. With Mum, its just misery. Shes impossible.
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