Oh my goodness. One page a day. Let's see how this goes.
It's 2:43 and I've been home all day so far. Really want to go take out the compost but can't seem to muster the energy to leave the apt. After a houseguest has been here, all I want to do is lie on the bed reading magazines, browse the National Day on Writing Galleries, eat yucca chips and nap. Feeling guilty because I'm on sabbatical and should be writing a book or doing something Big and Important, but instead here I am freewriting, typing without cease, just like in the old grad school days.
Afraid that someone will read this and know who I am just by the information I've given so far. Am I paranoid? Also, I want to make mosaics, play with stained glass, write a song, call a friend. I did that already; called a friend to discuss whether her father might have Alzheimer's disease. Discovered that her parents hadn't mentioned it to her, so my call set off a chain reaction. K calls her brother, worried. Brother hasn't heard anything. They both call home - the phone lines getting tangled in the rush - and mother does use the A-word. This is confusing because the doctor clearly said their dad did NOT have Alzheimer's, just two short months ago. So does Dad have it or not?
I was the analytical professor, as ever, asking: so there are some symptoms that are a cause for concern. Does it matter what caused those symptoms? What really matters is that your mom is a caregiver to your dad 24/7 and she needs respite. She needs a couple of hours every day when she can lie down and rest without worrying that your dad will wander away and do something crazy. She needs someone to talk to. She needs to go out and do something fun once in a while. She needs her children around her, or somebody younger than herself, or someone with experience handling family members with A.
She is lonely and isolated. She reminds me of myself, a burned out caregiver with nothing to live for except my charge, at the tender age of 23. Don't let her burn out her flame, like I almost did. Don't leave her in a dark room, clutching her cardigan with cold, trembling hands. Don't let her stab him with her angry words, when he doesn't understand who she used to be. Let's form a circle of hands around her, passing on the information, what he needs, how's he doing, how is she holding up, what
It's 2:43 and I've been home all day so far. Really want to go take out the compost but can't seem to muster the energy to leave the apt. After a houseguest has been here, all I want to do is lie on the bed reading magazines, browse the National Day on Writing Galleries, eat yucca chips and nap. Feeling guilty because I'm on sabbatical and should be writing a book or doing something Big and Important, but instead here I am freewriting, typing without cease, just like in the old grad school days.
Afraid that someone will read this and know who I am just by the information I've given so far. Am I paranoid? Also, I want to make mosaics, play with stained glass, write a song, call a friend. I did that already; called a friend to discuss whether her father might have Alzheimer's disease. Discovered that her parents hadn't mentioned it to her, so my call set off a chain reaction. K calls her brother, worried. Brother hasn't heard anything. They both call home - the phone lines getting tangled in the rush - and mother does use the A-word. This is confusing because the doctor clearly said their dad did NOT have Alzheimer's, just two short months ago. So does Dad have it or not?
I was the analytical professor, as ever, asking: so there are some symptoms that are a cause for concern. Does it matter what caused those symptoms? What really matters is that your mom is a caregiver to your dad 24/7 and she needs respite. She needs a couple of hours every day when she can lie down and rest without worrying that your dad will wander away and do something crazy. She needs someone to talk to. She needs to go out and do something fun once in a while. She needs her children around her, or somebody younger than herself, or someone with experience handling family members with A.
She is lonely and isolated. She reminds me of myself, a burned out caregiver with nothing to live for except my charge, at the tender age of 23. Don't let her burn out her flame, like I almost did. Don't leave her in a dark room, clutching her cardigan with cold, trembling hands. Don't let her stab him with her angry words, when he doesn't understand who she used to be. Let's form a circle of hands around her, passing on the information, what he needs, how's he doing, how is she holding up, what
