For the Record

Today was a good day until it was not a good day.  Then it became a lousy day.

This morning my aunt called to warn me that my mother was in a bad mood, so I decided to take my time getting ready to leave.  I drank three cups of coffee.  I watched music videos, then a few minutes of Lethal Weapon II.  I put away a lot of my clothes and I packed my things.  I decided to dress nicely, so I took my time to apply some makeup as well.  And then, when it because clear that I was stalling, I hurried out of the house.

It would have been SOOO much better if I had just stayed put. 

For Lent I have decided to give up cursing, which is really hard when dealing with a difficult person who suffers with dementia.  Everything was fine when I walked into the house, but once I got out of the bathroom, all heck broke loose.  (See how hard it is not to curse?)

I have suggested that members of my family are selfish and stupid and while I might edit those statements for posterity, I am not going to edit the sentiment here...Yes, members of my family are absolutely selfish.  And I am the stupid one.

For the record, I just want to say that I am really trying to be a good daughter.  But I feel like that daughter from the Joy Luck Club who sacrificed her flesh for her dying mother and still her family disowned her.  My family probably will not disown me, but at times it seems that the sacrifices that I make are just all in my head.

And can I also just say for the record that I am not thin-skinned.  There are callouses all over my body from the wounds inflicted over the years.  And just because I get upset every now and then, that does not mean that I do not deserve any empathy!

So at the beginning of this Lenten season when I really want to curse, especially at God, I will hold my tongue. 

Where to Begin

I watched the Alzheimer's special about Glen Campbell today and just visited Maria Shriver's website.  I wish I had not done this.

All of the stories about Alz patients end the exact same way.  Loved ones die.  People who were intelligent, vibrant, and engaging become forgetful, withdrawn, and paranoid.  They become helpless.  And they die.

I cannot wrap my head around this eventuality.  I am going to lose my mother to this horrible disease.

Of course, I do not know this yet because we do not have a definitive diagnosis.  And as long as some members of my family bask in the luxury and carelessness of their wanton igorance, I just have to try to stay calm.  I just need to pray.

I am she of little faith...

The website invites caregivers to share their stories, and I was tempted, but for what purpose?  To know that one day someone will be desperate for answers and may stumble across my ramblings and discover that they too are going through Hell?  Yes, this is hell, even on days when we only have a minor meltdown.

By minor meltdown, I mean on a day when there is only one slammed door or perhaps one indignant declaration that she is in charge and that it is her house and whatever else she decides someone has not appropriately acknowledged.  On those days when the meltdowns are more like thermal nuclear reactions, well...

And this is what I do not see in the stories of others--how to deal with someone who is determined to be angry about any little thing.  Someone who has become so self-centered and totally unaware of the tumult she causes with her anger, especially when the target of her ire can barely reason herself.  How are we supposed to diffuse those atom bombs?  I guess the answer is to take cover.