To hell with it. I'll rewrite the post. Last night, my mom went to the bathroom. I heard a thump, and then heard her crying out for help. She's 78, has had a couple of strokes, and uses a cane to get around. In the meantime, my dad was oblivious, because he doesn't wear the hearing aid he should be.
I tried to open the bathroom door, but my mom was prone on the floor and blocking it. I asked her to try to move her legs just a little so I could get in. So my mom, a once-dignified woman, had lost her balance and fallen into the side of the tub. She was lying on the floor between the tub and the toilet, with her pants and underwear down to her ankles. She'd also peed all over herself. So I tried to help her up, but then my OWN f--king hip gave out, so I called for Andrew. My mom didn't want him to see her like that. One of my brothers was there, so he lifted her up onto the toilet seat, and then I told him to leave us alone. I helped her clean herself, get into clean underwear, panties and socks, and she was crying the whole time. "I can't believe my daughter has to dress me now." I joked with her about how she'd cleaned my bottom enough in her day, and it was only fair. In the meantime, the a**hole who charades as my father was yelling, "How much longer are you going to be? It's time to eat."
My mom is wasting away. Her physician sees her as so old she's a write-off. My dad's only concern is that she's a burden to him (whereas she used to make him three meals a day, do his laundry, iron his clothes). I guess she's outlived her usefulness to him.
The saddest thing was that five minutes after she was dressed, she told Andrew (my husband) that she thought she may have fallen down in the hall earlier.
I had to go outside and just sob. That's all I can say.