Surgery Report for uBPD Mom

[todayistheday]

I've posted a couple times that this was upcoming.

Last April, Mom had arthroscopic knee surgery.  She didn't do her PT.  Told us that she didn't need to.  She keeps telling us how she's a nurse and she knows these things.  She graduated nursing school in 1960 and worked off and on part-time until 1963 or 1964, at most.

As a result of not doing what she was supposed to do, now she needs a knee replacement.  That happened today.

For my Dad's sake, I've committed myself to helping her.  Really, helping him.  I stayed for 3 days when she had her first surgery.  She lied to everyone that after I left nobody would take care of her.  She would not let anybody. 

Yesterday, I spent a couple hours alone with my Dad.  He's learned that he can unload on me.  He didn't used to.  I grew up scapegoat, but now that I'm away most of the time, I'm golden.  I lived in fear of her as a kid, so I DO understand what he's going through.  Sister is more complex.  She's former golden, enmeshed, but now a bit of a scapegoat because she doesn't like the control that comes with the enmeshment. 

I heard things that a child (even a 53 year old child) should not hear from a parent.  Nothing highly personal.  Just about how miserable he is and a lot of the hurtful things she says to him.  He's truly afraid of her. (54 year marriage, I was born 11-1/2 months in.)  He's a sweet man. Not without his own faults, but not deserving of what he gets from her.  When she complains to me about him, I try to say "yeah, men are like that".  No insult intended to the men on the board, it's my way of trying to diffuse.  And indeed my own husband does some of the same things.  The "Normal" women who I spend time with will vent, and then say "what can you do?" then we go on and continue loving our husbands.

Now he comes to me all the time with his frustrations.  It's just not fair for a "child", regardless of age to referee their parents. 

That was yesterday.  Today was her surgery. Knee replacement.  Dr. said she did fine in surgery.  When we got to her room, she was complaining complaining.  Because of her personality, it's hard to sort out what's real and what's going overboard.  She had a spinal and some sort of nerve block in her leg that was operated on. So she was not supposed to get nauseous or have pain from it today.  Discomfort, yes.  She was acting nauseous whenever she was awake.  And complaining some of pain but refusing meds.

Then when they came to take a blood sample, she acted like an 8 year old about the needle stick.  This the person who is an ex-nurse.   

Given her personality, it's hard to sort out how she's really feeling and what's in her head and what's the drugs that they gave her in surgery.

I am committed to staying here until she's able to do some things for herself.  Not for her sake but for my Dad's sake.

And my Dad's OCD is making me a bit nuts too.  (He's sweet, but if any of you know anyone with OCD, you know it can make you want to run screaming sometimes.) 

I came with a prescription of Xanax and a bottle of wine. Saving the Xanax for when it gets really bad.  Might have to break out the wine tomorrow night.  I'll avoid self-medicating as much as possible, but it's getting edgy around here.

I could be here a couple weeks. This only my second night. I miss home, I miss my life, my routine, and the difficulty of  dealing with HER on top of her infirmity multiplies all that and make me more homesick. 

(PS - I didn't have kids because I feared turning out like her.  i was too old when I learned about BPD from my therapist.  So that's not a factor in this.)

[HappyChappy]

Hang in there for a couple of weeks. Your farther sounds exactly like mine “nice man” but totally under the thumb. Don’t know if the following helps in your context, but it helped me. When I rationalised about this, I remembered my dad hardly ever intervened with the abuse. He was in truth a flying monkey at times, and an unknowing enabler.  So he chose his bed, and he must lie in it. He succumbed to my BPD will for a few minutes peace, at my expense, but as we all know that just tells the BPD they techniques are work and they do more.

I expect you know this, but you BPD mom will probably use every trick in the book to keep you there. She probably won’t recover (ever) etc. She may try and convince only you can care for her. Do you think only you can care for you BPD mom? Is your BPD holding your dad hostage, so to speek? Should we negotiate with hostage takers ? A couple of weeks will fly by if you use the wine. If you join a wine club they deliver by the crate to the doar (apparently). Best wishes  

[todayistheday]

Hang in there for a couple of weeks. Your farther sounds exactly like mine “nice man” but totally under the thumb. Don’t know if the following helps in your context, but it helped me. When I rationalised about this, I remembered my dad hardly ever intervened with the abuse. He was in truth a flying monkey at times, and an unknowing enabler.  So he chose his bed, and he must lie in it. He succumbed to my BPD will for a few minutes peace, at my expense, but as we all know that just tells the BPD they techniques are work and they do more.

I expect you know this, but you BPD mom will probably use every trick in the book to keep you there. She probably won’t recover (ever) etc. She may try and convince only you can care for her. Do you think only you can care for you BPD mom? Is your BPD holding your dad hostage, so to speek? Should we negotiate with hostage takers ? A couple of weeks will fly by if you use the wine. If you join a wine club they deliver by the crate to the doar (apparently). Best wishes 

Thanks so much!

That's partially, but not completely, my parents.  My Dad is not a flying monkey as much as afraid of her and unsure of how to deal with her.  I've only recently taught him the value of "don't poke the bear".  For example, she doesn't "approve" of any of his friends and hobbies.  For no good reason.   I've finally convinced him to NOT answer his cell phone (which is on silent) when she's around and NOT to talk about it.  He took me on a hobby detour Monday night. He actually had the sense to tell me not to tell her about it.  Which I would not have, because I knew she'd hit the ceiling.  I was planning to tell him that it should be our little secret.

While he did not intervene in the abuse directly when it was happening in front of him, it did not happen as much when he was around. He may not have been aware of how bad it was.

Moms a martyr, so she's actually NOT trying to keep me here.  She's saying she'll be fine and I don't need to be here.   But my Dad has an in-office procedure himself today.  I told her that I would go with him in case he needed moral support, and she said "but I need a coach here to help with my PT."  She'll be trying to send me home.  I choose to stay until I become her nightmare and intimidate her into getting well.

My sister is in next door.  As nice as she is, having been an enmeshed golden child, frankly, she's an airhead.  When Mom had the other surgery, she'd come visit.  She'd bring flowers and balloons but she was clueless about helping or managing the situation.  That was both before and after I left.  All she did after I left was call to tell me how badly things were going and how she didn't now what to do about it but she wanted me to know.

I do feel trapped.  Frankly, if Dad wasn't living here, I'd make my sister deal with her.

As for the box of wine, if what I brought is not enough, I'll be into the Xanax instead.  I'm only an occasional drinker with a low threshold so it won't take but a very small amount to go from "take the edge off" to "tipsy".

[HappyChappy]

Thanks for the update. Hope you parents both pull through their ailments, and the ops go well. Sound like you’ve got a good battle plan, just a case of manuvering the troupes until the coast is clear.

My BPDm also does the martyr thing. Just before I went NC she did the “I don’t need any of you.” Speech. She lied. BPD do that. When I saw the book title “I hate you, don’t leave me” reminded me of my BPD doing her leaving routine. She’d pack her bags and wait out on the main road. A taxi never came, because our dad was too scared to leave it too long. Sucker.

As for being an occasional drinker, just to take to bite the nerves – me to. So glad I don’t like alcohol, hate the taste, but counting the empties it’s a good barometer for how stressed I am. Any hoo, glad you’re sorted on this one.