In “Humpty Dumpty”, part of a 1902 Mother Goose story book by William Wallace Denslow, the verse says that after his “great fall”,

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

I learned that verse as a child and the words still roll effortlessly and rhythmically off the tongue. Although I remember as a child feeling a little sorry for Humpty, I’m unsure whether I ever thought to what extent someone who loved Humpty might try to fix him, fail and then grieve over the failure to fix.

My 91 year old mother fell at my house about a month ago and broke her hip. I am at a similar juncture to whoever tried to fix Humpty and was unable to.

My mom up until now has been still living independently in her home in another state with “in home” caregivers for several hours a day, 5 days a week. She is of the Depression era, gentle and quiet but no less fiercely independent. Her home is her “castle” and her desire is to live there for the rest of her life. My two sisters and I, all out of town to her, have been helping her for years to stay there by taking over bills, ensuring groceries were delivered after she was unable to drive any more, and keeping on top of Doctor’s appointments for her. We have also known and accepted for years that her desire to stay in her home would likely mean that eventually someday something would happen to her.

My brother and his family moved about a year ago…they were fairly far away across the country and now are even farther. My mom longed to visit my brother and his family and the lovely location in which they now live. My husband and I took a week in early July and flew out there with her. We had a wonderful time gazing at gorgeous scenery, catching up with the latest activities of the grandkids and just talking quietly over coffee, creating cherished moments to look back upon.

The night before we left my brother’s house, my mom was sitting in a comfy cushioned chair in the family room. My brother set up the camera on a tripod on delay and we all gathered around “Grandma” and took a picture; my husband and I, my brother and my sister in law, their son and daughter. I have seen the picture since then…lo and behold, we all look good…all eyes are open, all smiling. My mom is in the middle, looking loving and proud as matriarch of the little group. Was it prophetic that we took that picture before leaving? So much has happened this past month.

As the trip back from my brother’s house involved multiple airports and flights, I had us stop for a couple of nights at my house to rest up for a day before flying my mom on the final leg of the trip to her house. It was at the end of that rest day when my mom fell at my house and broke her hip.

Of course none of us wanted this to happen. The silver lining though that we siblings all agree on is that it happened at the end of the trip rather than the beginning and that she fell with family members around her rather than in her home alone or at an airport while traveling back.

The surgeon has told me that my mom didn’t just break her hip, she smashed it; three big pieces but counting the little pieces, a total of 7 or 8. It’s still the same surgery…a pin and a rod however the recovery is difficult and slow. My mom has good insurance, however the way the different insurances work, the patient must be making forward progress in therapy to continue payment. I just got the “heads up” a couple of days ago that my mom appears to be plateauing which means that therapy stops being paid for. We will pay privately to keep her doing therapy but her best chance for recovery…to get back to her level of walking (with a walker) is right now during this rehab time with intensive physical therapy 6 days a week.

Plan A was to get her back to her house with probable time spent at my house as an intermediary point to get stronger. Plan B was to start living with us at our house. I realized early in the recovery though that even to be in my house safely she would have to be able to get from bed to bathroom, bed to chair safely. We are now looking at Plan C…a skilled long term nursing facility as my mom still needs 24 hour nursing care. She is still unable to safely transfer from wheelchair to bed and back. She can only walk with a walker with someone closely watching her and supporting her with one of those therapy belts around her middle for added stability. She still needs help to get dressed, with bathroom needs, she is more often now confused about where she is and short term memory is like a sieve.

I look at her now when I visit and think, “Oh mom, this isn’t what you wanted. We tried to put you back together to where you were before but we have been unable to do so.” My husband calls it the “tipping point”. My mom was very frail before this and really right on the edge of living alone safely. This event has tipped her so far over the edge she is unable to come back. Six weeks ago, mom could have lived in our house, now unless we had 24 hour care, that possibility is gone.

I’m so sorry, Mom. I write this blog anonymously so you won’t read about what I can see now…that you will never be able to walk more than a few steps even with a walker, that you will spend most of your time in a wheelchair and that you will spend the remainder of your days in a skilled nursing, long term facility. I will make sure the location is as close to my house as I can arrange and I will visit you as much as I can but it won’t be the same. My siblings and I tried so hard to keep you in your own home. I’m so sorry, Mom. I love you.