clickmom

In my grandmother’s purse

I was putting muscle ointment on my back and was hit with a wave of dry warm wintergreen scent. The exact same smell as wintergreen lifesavers, which were always in my gramndmother’s purse so I’m taking a trip down memory lane. I lucked out in the grandmother department.

TISMF dementia edition

Our cable and internet has been out since last night. It’s back on now but the guide says NO DATA instead of the program’s name. The husband just got up (I was about to send you a text about how scared I was to go check on him because he wasn’t up yet) and I told him I couldn’t get the guide but would try some of his favorite channels. With the first try I find his go-to show that he watches marathons of season after season around and around and he turns to me, with this big smile on face because we are laughing at my good channel guessing, and he says “It’s crazy that I’ve seen so many of these shows and haven’t seen them all yet!”

…………..

Ummmmmmmmm

I had to break it to him. I said, in as gentle of a tone as possible “I think you’re forgetting them.”

And then I solved the mystery 8 minutes into the show and amazed him with my crime solving ability. JK. But you know I could have!

good for me

So. I am getting ready to participate in a special therapy for trauma survivors. It's based on therapies that are used in VA hospitals to treat vets.

How do I feel about it? ANXIOUS because I know that it's going to be emotionally grueling. I already had "the interview" for them to see if I was a "good fit." Hilariously it was only supposed to last 20 minutes, but after 35 minutes the lady on the other end said "Listen, I have to go do a session but we aren't done. You're definitely accepted but can I call you back later to finish up?" I am trying to learn the art of telling a story in a linear fashion without taking forever to get to the point. Hahaha. Eternal optimist reporting for duty. Place your bets folks! Can clickmom tell an abbreviated tale? The odds have yet to be published, some are hopeful others are laughing too hard to reply.

I am wondering if there is any way possible to do this without dredging up every painful memory I have because I just want to feel better without feeling worse first but I don't think that is how it's going to work. So, I am sitting here bracing myself. It would be easier if I could look into a crystal ball and see for sure how I would feel on the other end. Honestly, I am afraid it isn't going to work on me. That seems so silly sitting here before I have even jumped in and given it a chance. But I just want to cry because I am scared and this is scary. I will do it though and I have promised myself that I will be earnest in my efforts. There is no sense in wasting everyone's time. I will throw myself into this 100% no matter how shitty it feels between the beginning and the end.

Also, I feel like there were so many little trauma events that have stuck with me. Will I have to talk about them all? (whine whine whine) Do I just stick to the main characters? I might take out a legal pad and start making lists. But that seems like such an ugly thing to do. But then... wouldn't it actually be a good reference?  I guess I am caught between feeling like it's a pragmatic way to approach this and how my parents would react to me making a list of hurtful actions. I guess that answers my question. Also the reason why I am in need of trauma therapy.

I talked to the latest therapist today. I told her that somewhere along the line I think I changed from the person who could be abused to the person who didn't take shit anymore. It may have started with nursing Marion. I had to nurse in public sometimes and I perfected the DO NOT EVEN TRY TO MESS WITH ME  glare and it totally worked. I was thinking about the time I tried to schedule the flight so that I could nurse Marion right after takeoff so she would sleep the whole flight. Everything went smoothly until we got on the plane and she needed to nurse while we were still boarding. So, I began to nurse her and I gave "the look" to the passengers who were walking past me ( I had the aisle seat). Eventually a little old lady showed up and I could see her trying to figure out if my baby was nursing or not. She paused as she got to me and asked Are you nursing that baby? and I said Yes, I am. The old lady reached out her hand and patted me on the shoulder and said Good for you! and moved on. I wish my whole life went as smoothly as that.

it's Friday. it's Friday. the best day of the week. collapse.

Oh My God. This has been a week!!  It's Friday afternoon and I just can not believe how extra stressful this week has been. It all started when mr. dementia saw a commercial for a certain brand of protein shake. He became obsessed and decried his want of said shake over and over until I reluctantly made my way into the adult nutritional beverage section of the pharmacy area of the grocery store to purchase the adult formula, which I am so vehemently disgusted by - it's the advertising campaign aimed towards fit middle aged people who are capable of eating real food- and naturally ... he loved it and requested more and more of the high protein adult formula until he began a daily practice of drinking the adult formula and there in lies the problem. Unbeknownst to neither him nor I ... adult formula, especially the higher protein versions, such as the one he had been ingesting, cause constipation. Like, I told the nurse that the only cause I could think of was that product and the second the name of the product floated out of my mouth she exclaimed THAT'LL DO IT with such confidence and knowing that I could see our words bouncing off of each other in mid air. I turned to mr. dementia and shrew voice screamed  I TOLD YOU SO! I KNEW IT!  Only because he doesn't remember when I lose my cool (yay!) and because he had waved me off as some nut job - dairy suspicious person that I actually am in regards to the  poison we all know and love to eat despite it being freaking bizarre to eat the mother's milk of another species and also nearly impossible for most of the world to effectively digest, myself included.

It makes so much sense ever since the cheese binge weekend of 2010 I knew that excessive dairy could have terrifying results on him. I just didn't put the high protein adult formula and cheese connection together until it was so bad that I could actually feel the outline of his intestines when I touched his belly. Also, I am ashamed to admit that the first 2 days he complained I thought that there was fair chance he forgot that he pooped and was just making a big deal out of nothing. Sorry. I am really sorry about that.

He's been begging me for laxatives since last weekend. I kept rolling my eyes. I am so sorry.

Anyways, the things that help that type of situation were taken throughout the day on Wednesday and after a long uncomfortable night the things that can help did help.... all morning long. Over and over again. As a matter of fact, they seem to be still helping 36 hours later. (insert that facial expression which reads: I AM DEAD INSIDE NOW.)  He was so exhausted yesterday (after the morning of poop purging after a sleepless night) that he only stayed out of bed for a few hours and now it looks like the same thing might be happening to him today. On days like today I am too scared to leave the house when he is so depleted and confused.

Poor sweet pea, she is so patient and understanding of this current state of neglect.

 

assisted

So, my phone rang at 7:30 this morning and it was my neighbor who was worried that her 15 year old had slept through his alarms and asked if I could go across the street and check on him. Could I?? I was out of bed and getting dressed in an instant! 

This is the kid, who at 3 years of age, reached towards me with open arms and let me hold him while he hugged me on the day I woke up super sad and homesick for stepford (I know! Right???) I WOULD JUMP OVER AN ALLIGATOR FILLED MOAT TO ASSIST THIS KID. So, I threw on my clothes and ran over there to assist this kid. He was actually up and happily accepted my offer of a ride to school. Did I know how much I missed driving my own kids to school every morning? NO, I did not realize how much I missed driving my own kids to school each morning. And if I'm gonna be honest about it, I totally felt like an imposter driving up there with somebody else's kid, but I was just so flooded memories of being alone in the car with my own beloved sweeties for just a few minutes each day. This set me off on a sadness trajectory that ended  up with me asking myself that all important and completely obvious question: Am I having some delayed reaction empty nest sorrow? Because, guys, I am crying all day over here thinking about how much I miss my own kids. I had to do such a fucking great job that not even one of them wants to live in my basement.

That's all I got for now. Maybe later I'll sit down and pour my heart out again.

TISMF

He has a new diabetic foot ulcer.

I made this analogy today:

Not long after I moved to stepford I was reading up on safe driving techniques. I read about what to do when you fish tail on a slippery road. Fast forward to the first snowstorm forecasted for that winter. I think I have time for a quick shopping trip before the snow arrives. I run into the store with my baby and 4 year old- we come out 45 minutes later to a thick layer of wet slushy snow. Shoot!  We load up the car and head home. At some point my car begins to fish tail- I turn the steering wheel- we overcompensate and fishtail the other way. I turn the wheel. Same thing happens. I try to steer us out of the fishtail at least half a dozen times probably more just to fishtail in the opposite direction before I just think to myself I WILL NEVER CONTROL THIS RIDE and I let go of the wheel and let the car fishtail freely- we spin around 180 degrees and stop ONE INCH away from a telephone pole. A cop was right behind me watching the whole time and he jumped out of his car to check us- we were fine. He stopped traffic so I could U Turn back to the right direction and I made it home.

I feel like I’ve already fishtailed about 5 times here and I don’t know how many more fishtails I can get him through.

TIS Evan

I just remembered this and I have to share it with you, so I don’t forget. When you were little one time, somehow you got a hold of these kids multivitamins with iron and you ate a bunch and I had to call the poison control hotline and they determined that you did not consume a dangerous dose of any vitamin. The next day you had so much iron that you made black poop for two days straight.

TISMF response to “How is your day going?”

Today was not my proudest moment as a care giver.

Gotta admit that last night I realized that he thinks it’s kind of hilarious that half his dinner ends up on his shirt every night. In the mean time I’m over here putting every kind of pretreatment under the sun on his shirts so they don’t look like I have been flinging grease at him. I actually looked at laundry TikTok before I deleted the app from my phone. It’s an area of contention for me. Obviously I would prefer his food be on his plate or in his mouth and not smeared across the front of his shirt looking like he slid through the freshly filled pig’s trough.

It’s Friday, which means a visit to wound care. Before we even left the house he was irritating the F out of me by trying to seem “with it”. I don’t why he does this kind of thing and I don’t why it drives me insane but I’m being honest here. Example: He has just asked me for the 86th time what time we need to leave the house . I tell him in 5 minutes. I am bending over three feet in front of him to grab his sneakers - my arm is outstretched in the direction of his sneakers and he SMUGLY says “Shouldn’t I be putting my sneakers on if we are leaving in 5 minutes?” Like he is catching me slacking off or something. It’s the smugness that makes me see red.

The whole morning was like that. I could tell he woke up feeling kind of full of himself. It was weird. I tried so hard to just keep the momentum moving forward and not explode. We get into the car and get to the hospital, I pull into the handicapped spot, go to the rear of the car and begin the assemblage of his wheelchair. I have to haul it out of the trunk, unflatten it, pop the handles up, put the foot rests on, and finally put a special cushion on the seat. Half way through I look up and see that he has not only opened his door, but that he has managed to stand up and is precariously balanced in his car doorway leaning heavily on the door frame on the car to stay upright.

Upon registering exactly what it is that I am seeing I lose my composure and it sounds like this:

(Imagine a screeching tone)

Jesus fucking Christ. Are you F-ing kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Do you want to slam your head onto the F-ing concrete garage floor? Why would you F-ing get out of the F-ing car when I’m not there to spot you? OH MY GOD I am so F-ing finished with you. I’m done. I F-ing dedicate my life to taking care of you and this is how you pay me back? By putting yourself in F-ing danger?? Go ahead and F-ing fall. I’ll stand over you and F-ing laugh when you’re lying there bleeding from the F-ing head. Don’t ask me for help. I am beyond done. I’m finished. I can’t take you anymore.

And then…. I see this dapper looking gentleman with a silk scarf and super expensive shoes jauntily strolling towards us and realize he has witnessed my entire rant.

Nice right?

The F-ing asshole clearly used someone else’s handicapped placard to park in the next handicapped spot because he took the wrong elevator down and walked the length of the parking lot get to his car and I wanted to yell at him too (What are you looking at F face? You don’t even F-ing belong here) but I didn’t.

Then, after a seriously excruciatingly long visit where we waited and waited followed by an unusually serious discussion about his many many wounds, scrapes and scabs, and a horrifying visit to the handicap bathroom where I had to flee just prior to a surprise #2 (there is no dignity in dementia) when leaving the hospital he who is in POOR poor health turns to me and says “You know what I want? A five piece chicken strip meal from Popeyes”

That’s how my day is going.