September 1, 2014

We are on our way to Cheryl’s house in Pottstown. Mom is in the living room, waiting to be walked to the car. She spent the morning asking for the usual things: tissue, juice, and for me to comb her hair. Yes, I washed her hair again this morning. She hates having her hair washed. But why not today? Valentino just got groomed. The whole family will be spic and span, with the exception of Lucia, who will be groomed on Wednesday.

And, yes, mom asked for her fuzzy jacket (a lightweight Polartec). It’s August and it’s 86 degrees in the shade, mind you. The humidity is horrible and the bugs are biting. And, yes, mom asked me if I had my coat, too. No, I am not carrying my coat. It’s hot out there. Shades of my youth. I had to carry a coat or a sweater for half my life (OK, for one-third of my life) nearly everywhere I went. I would rather freeze than carry another item. I don’t even carry a purse any more. I carried stuff, lots of stuff, while I was living at home. I’m an adult now, having lived on my own lo these many years. And I don’t want to carry anything! Got it!

Well, today is one of those days. The mold count is high. The mosquitoes have had their lunch break on me yet again. (I swear the government is out to see if they can cut down on the population by reintroducing yellow fever and malaria!) But I remember mosquitoes being far worse at the outdoor theater. Those days were wild. The pics didn’t work against the mosquitoes, and their offspring are still out to show that our meager attempts at keeping them at bay remain useless.

 

 

Friday, August 29, 2014

Awoke a little after 5:00. Mom makes quite a racket when she goes to the bathroom. Thumps cane loudly, slams doors shut, slams windows shut. Ah the symphony that is my mother. Later, she will add her other instrument: the spoons!

I decided to run some errands after she went back to bed: Farmer’s Market, where I had tea with RB and shopped for cheese, milk, and organic veggies; PetSmart for dog food; the bank; and the post office. I am back home and ready to sit down and begin working on an edit for a foreign client.

Mom is in the kitchen clanking away at her cereal. She asked about her husband again.

What did he die of?

Heart disease.

Oh.

Do you know who my father was?

I forget.

Do you remember who your husband was?

I forget.

I showed mom a photo of dad and herself.

Who’s this?

My husband.

Well, he was also my father.

I know.

Pointing to her, I asked, Who is this?”

His wife.

Mom, that’s you.

I know. That’s me. 

The mind is a very strange thing. We can compartmentalize things to such a degree that it makes very little sense in the real world. Or is what we are experiencing the real world, indeed?

And now, another mind might be laying to rest. Nancy’s husband is unresponsive. Very low blood pressure and was taken to the ER from Kessler early this morning. Nancy and Eric were slated to return home on Tuesday. All bets might be off at this point for his returning as soon. Here was a brilliant and successful man, only in his late 60s. He was an avid tennis player and in otherwise excellent shape, still contributing to society. And now…

And then there’s my mother. Some of life makes very little sense. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy that my mother is still alive, but very little of who she was survived with her physical body.

 

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

 

This morning, I am Rose, maybe.

Where’s Sandy?

I don’t know. (I am Sandy, but I’m tired and not feeling playful. I woke up exasperated!)

Are you Rose?

No, who am I?

I don’t know. Are you Rose?

No.

Are you Sandy?

Do you think I am?

I don’t know.

 Not an auspicious start of the day.

I showered mom and filled her cereal bowl. She is now in the kitchen beating the hell out of the Cheerios. It’s a wonder my cereal bowls aren’t all chipped by now! This is one of those days for me. Not a good one. I need to go out onto the porch and escape whatever madness awaits me.