I’m not going to lie. The loss of my independence at least for the short term has started to hit me hard. I know the best thing for me is to go to my parents, and although I love them tremendously, that doesn’t mean I want to live with them full-time. They are working hard and making sacrifices so I can be there with them. This all came to a head last night when the three of us had a very serious conversation on what me coming to stay with them ultimately is going to look like. It also involved talking about my cats.
First, I AM thankful that I have a place to go to continue my recovery, SO many people don’t have those resources, and I know I am truly lucky in that way, whether that is in family willing and able to help, or housing that accommodate my new reality. It really isn’t bad, I will have my own room for my privacy, I will have my own bathroom to take care of my needs, and I will have access to the living and laundry areas so I am able to help out, and grow in my skills with my new/changing mobility. I can even practice stairs with a very safe railing. Family friends (Thanks Scott and Randy!) are also helping out make some minor modifications in the bathroom, like a diagonal grab bar in the shower and a shower wand. Dan (my brother-in-law) and probably Scott’s sons will help do some heavy lifting and rearrange the bedroom so it’s easiest for me.
What actually made me break down crying and bawling (for the first real time since this happened) a bit last night on the video call with my parents is decision making about Marty and Lorraine. I have an awesome cat care team in place currently, and they have been able to remain in place, which is great because the fewer transitions they have the better it will be long term for them.
I really really do love my Dad, but I knew since I was little he “tolerated” my obsessions with cats. Mom has been generally okay with cats but she doesn’t like the fact that I haven’t really trained Marty and Lorraine to not be on the counters and things. They both generally get along with Dixie, my parents dog, so that’s good.
Mentally, Marty and Lorraine are my children. They are my furbabies. I know I will make a much better recovery if I am able to be with them even though I will be living for my parents for the foreseeable future. At the beginning of all of this, Mom and Dad suggested maybe I find a foster situation for them. Luckily, I didn’t have to do that, and I have an awesome daily cat care team in place, which allows people to help me out in a way where it isn’t a huge commitment on their part, and Marty and Lorraine get to stay in place. I also know this isn’t feasible long term.
Last night, as we were discussing my future housing needs, I have accepted that I need to sell my place. There is no way long term I can stay there. However, I may need to stay with my parents for the better part of this year. Dad was very hesitant to take my cats in (this caused me to start bawling). Mom not so much, but is worried about the counter thing, which we will try to break them of while they are there. My Mom put her foot down a bit with Dad, and said “Your Daughter will recover much better if she has the emotional support of her cats through this transition.” And that is basically the end of the topic, but I am looking into purchasing a litter robot…
Right now, the goal is to have the kitties moved to Mom and Dad’s by my birthday in early March. It will be a wondrous birthday gift. That enables me at least a couple of weeks at my parent’s house before I have to worry about dodging a cat or two. Right now, it is looking like I will be released from the rehab hospital around valentines day but that will be determined later this week. Insurance can be a little bitch sometimes.