Monday, August 25, 2014
I worked late last night helping BH. He was in the midst of too much work given to him as a challenge, once again. BH suffers, as one colleague put it, from a variety of medieval diseases and disorders. He’s always in the hospital, always laid up with something, and yet, he remains employed—well, sort of. BH and his wife and the children still at home are moving yet again. They often do—sometimes to his wife’s sister’s house, sometimes to be with one of their grown daughters. They had been renting a 4-acre property in Hopewell. I myself would not be renting a 4-acre property in Hopewell if I lived on the financial edge and BH does. But they did and they loved it. Now, their hearts are broken and they are preparing to move yet again, this time from another place they love. Their lives are peppered with lovely places they have had to vacate. I could think of a worse way to live if I were near indigence.
At any rate, BH had another work crisis. It was an easy job: listen to a tape of a German-speaking man and fill in the blanks of a transcript. Was a hopeful message about the path to personalized medicine for cancer. My thoughts kept returning to Margie, my beloved sister-in-law. I didn’t want to think about being so close to sparing her life. I almost wanted to hear that we are light-years away from helping people with glios. Almost.
This morning, it was business as usual: walked the pups with Betty, met Marty’s wife, our Sikh friends, Buds’ wife with Duke (apparently Bud had a bad night and was sleeping in. Pretty rare for him!), and an array of drivers, who wave and smile as they go by. Most are on their way to work and perhaps they think I, like Betty, am retired. One thing I will never be is retired! Fortunately. Thanks to friends like BH and my (thus far) steady clients.
Decided on a big breakfast: sausage, fried potatoes (the good ones I parboiled from Rodale), green beans (also from Rodale), a slice of toast with rose apricot jam, and ginger tea with cinnamon honey. Mom got up while I was making breakfast. (She’s already been to the bathroom twice.) She declined sharing my breakfast, so I prepared her cereal. Mom wanted company while she ate, and I gave it a try. But I could not abide the sound of her sucking her lips and slurping her food. Mom is the only person I know who can actually slurp meat. She poises the spoon or fork a few inches from her lips and sucks it in like a vacuum cleaner, never bringing the food to her mouth.
Anyhow, I finished my breakfast on the porch, which is what I had originally intended, all the while feeling guilty for not giving mom the company she craves. I had put the kitchen light on for her, but as usual, she protested. You don’t need that. I protested back. Yes, you do.
Am off in a bit to bring my car in for another cosmetic treat: new side lamps. Why not? She looks prettier and prettier each time I spiff her up a bit. Greta Carbo has been so very good to me. She is nearly 239,000 miles old!
Then back to work.
Later—
Mom is at it again: going to the bathroom every 15 minutes. I have decided to allow her to go unattended. It’s the only way I can continue to work and the only way I can hold on to what sanity I have left. Between mom and Val, it has been challenging. Valentino is beside himself today and barking like a wild dog at every passing dog, person, school bus, and The Skateboarder! Yes, today was the first day back at school: children and school buses. The morning primes him for the rest of the day. It sets the stage for overreaction to just about EVERYTHING! I actually put his leash on him and went out front, where I had The Skateboarder (who was looped again) make Val sit and give him some cookies.
Hold on… mom is calling again! (She just needed me to swivel the television and close the shutters.) Oh well, it’s the least I can do.
thecaregiversdiary 