Perhaps it's the weather...

I have been reflecting on the past 4 years I have been spending with my mother. Initially I moved home because it was all I could do, having left my old life behind in a pile of debris and smoldering, burned bridges. Within a month or so it was obvious that I was there to help her more than the other way around.

As the years went by, her Alzheimer's progressed, my sobriety grew, her frailty increased, and my role as caregiver expanded to include more than just the occasional trip to the store for her. I have now taken over the household accounting and serve as her Power-of -Attorney. I am not alone in these tasks, and for this I am thankful. There is her financial manager in The Big City who oversees her rather large estate; her attorney who manages that as well as her estate legal affairs; her CPA who prepares her taxes each quarter; there are my two sisters who offer me support from long distance and visit when they can -- they are also listed as POA's should I not be able to fulfill this task; and the crew of amazing caregivers working 24 hours a day that allow me to not only live my own life but to handle the above responsibilities round out the team.

Mom's habits have shifted since her broken rib incident a month ago. She has withdrawn and spends much of the time in bed. Sometimes she is sleeping, and sometimes she is reading. Sometimes she just sits there and stares off into space, perhaps just thinking. Her depression is palpable. She is angry at the world and confused about what is happening to her. She is frightened by the loss of self that has accompanied this emptiness in her mind. The worst part is that she knows this is occurring.

Someone mentioned to me the other day that it must be hard to see this going on. I think I have begun dismissing this kind of statement by rationalizing my being here as a gift, some sort of frightful challenge that is helping me grow. I think from now on I am going to acknowledge the pain and tell them it is especially hard on me because I have absolutely no control over the slow and terrifying slipping away of my mother, who I will always remember as being fun-loving, brilliant, energetic, and youthful.

This may sound selfish to some, but I think that part of living my life is to not be so tough or reserved when it comes to this matter. This is the most painful time of my life, and I hope none of you ever have to go through it. But if you do, don't do it alone.

Johnnyboy

Amazing news and some of the same-same...

So...To recap the same-same...

Mom is doing better. We have put her on a mild anti-depressant and should be seeing results soon. She has been on Lexapro for about a month now. She still likes to stay in bed and read, but with weather like we have been having, who could blame her.

My school work is going along, but in fits and starts. I am having real difficulty with the PhotoShop class, mostly due to my inability to speak 'Geek'. I am stymied by the current project, but I'll get through it. It seems as if the person who wrote the instructions for our class wasn't too hot on the English language.

On the fantastic side of things, I submitted six images to an open call for the local arts council and a juried photography show. Three were chosen! I was stunned and amazed, and this makes me happy, although I am humbled by the happening. The opening is next weekend, in Hudson. I'll post the address later.

Johnnyboy

Sickness, broken bones, Alzheimer's disease, and PowerPoint...

...All of the above.

I'm sick. I have diagnosed myself with sinusitis...My left gland on my neck has been swollen for a couple of days. My neck hurts. Tylenol kills my headache for about three hours and then it comes back with shock-like stabbings from deep within my skull. My face hurts. The top of my head is sensitive. In fact, the left side of my face feels heavier than the right, and although my nose isn't stuffy, it isn' t 100% clear either. I'm tired, cranky, and running a slight fever of about 100 degrees. It's too early to go to bed...

Two weeks ago my mother decided to do a sweet thing. She thought it would be nice to come upstairs to visit me while I was building my new bookcase from IKEA. This she did, and unaccompanied. On the way down the stairs, her worn out old slippers slid out from underneath her and she almost tumbled, but instead bumped a couple of steps down. Unfortunately she broke a rib. This has meant more bed rest and Vicodin for her. After recovering fully from a broken sacrum last spring and erlichiosis this summer, she is back in bed.

Fuck.

Still it's not her fault. She's the one with Alzheimer's, not me. Why am I so pissed off? I am thankful for the 24 hour caregivers here. They allow me to move along with my life, but actually they have freed me up to assume responsibilities that I could not last year, mostly financial ones.

School is moving along. I am suddenly swamped with work this week (and I'm sick, remember?) but I'll get done what I can. I have three papers to write and a module of my Digital Art and Design class.

Yesterday I drove to Syracuse and gave a short presentation today on relief work I was involved with last summer. 3 1/2 hours each way at 80 mph for a 35 minute PowerPoint show. In some ways I was a little disappointed in the other presenters. So many of them seem to be gravitating towards the overly popular 'gender studies' subjects. It's boring, I tell you, boring. What ever happened to literature, art, science, history, and philosophy? Now all of these admirable subjects are examined through the strange lens of sexual identification? Please...! It's worse than teaching Rhetoric as a writing subject.

Still the 12 people who saw my presentation liked it, and enough so that some of the faculty want me to present it in classes in Albany. So that's good news. I guess I'm grateful.

I feels like shit. Achy, cranky, tired...Plus the caregiver who worked this morning didn't pick up the fucking mail, which means no NetFlix, therefore I cannot watch 'Grey's Anatomy: Season 4' until Monday....


Johnnyboy