Today I have no pictures for you except for the ones in your head, because I am not at home. I am at my parents' house, taking care of my mother who is 78 and has dementia. So I'm just going to help you imagine what that's like.
First, a disclaimer: I know it could be a lot worse.
Imagine: blue skies, white clouds, boat horns, whisper winds, bobbing daisies....and Clorox cleaner. My proud father, bless his heart, will not take more help or ever complain about anything. But he's one man. And he's 81. And a half. So I look to this as a great opportunity to reach some cobwebs that are out of his reach or take some rugs to the laundromat or wash some floors. And, honestly people, I really am happy to do it. It's productive, I'm here and able, and my mom needs constant vigilance, but she doesn't need me hovering over her all day. But it just so happens that after a summer of rainy-cold days, this week has had beautiful weather. Of course.
Imagine: orange barrels, flashes of traffic, whooshes of cars, McDonald's Mocha Frappe, someone in the passenger seat who is 78 and has dementia telling you, in no uncertain terms, how to drive. As she spills her coffee (which is half cream and a little ice, so don't worry about a burn, I've got that covered at least) all down the front of her white shirt. Which is kept immaculately clean by my father. And which I cover with a jacket for the rest of the day because I can't get her shirt off of her.
Imagine: shiny floors, fresh rugs, Wii whees, shuffling feet, abandoned walkers, "Hot, hot, hot!" Jimmie is here with me. And he really has been great. Of course he has gotten to play the Wii three-times-more-per-day than he would at home with no chore to earn it. He had McDonald's for lunch. With a strawberry shake. He had ice cream for dessert after dinner. Did I mention that it's been sunny? Because I have a bit of guilt that my son will turn into one of "those" kids. While I was cleaning my mother was hanging tightly to the counter in the kitchen. She doesn't have a lick of balance and the walker is not always remembered so she hangs on like a it's her parachute line, the deck rail of a keeling boat, the edge of a bridge where she's decided the bungee jump is not such a great idea. Yesterday she was hanging around the stove as I cleaned the kitchen. All of a sudden I hear, "Hot! Hot! Hot!" and I look over to see the front burner on, coils red, heat exploding. I shuffle her away, again. Again. Until it cools. Because this adds a whole new element (no pun intended) to this story.
Kate had the great idea of taking off the burner knobs. She has a toddler. There are similarities.
Imagine: Granny from Madagascar2 showing up at 8 pm and staying until 8 am. Except add a halo above her head. And call her Marie.
Imagine: sitting with family you haven't seen in a year, not worrying about laundry, sleeping more than 3 hours at a time, laughing, clearing your head, letting someone take care of you, putting your feet up, allowing someone else to drive, seeing every day worries flit through your head, briefly, occasionally, an not running after them because there's nothing you can do about them. Except let them go. And enjoy where you are.
That's what I hope my dad is doing.
