Making hay
By M on Tuesday 20 February 2007, 08:54 - Journal - Permalink
Things have been remarkably quiet over the last few days. I keep thinking this
is wrong, then I have to tell myself that no, this was how we wanted things to
be: mum and dad pottering around at home with a schedule of regular visits to
keep them clean and fed. It is just that it is such a change from the normalcy
that we've developed over the last year or so that it feels like something,
somewhere must be out of control and I just don't know about it.
Dad's calls have dried up almost completely. Yesterday I did not hear from him. I suspect that this is chiefly due to my recent resistance to his requests. I presume he has transferred the umbilical to either Rachel or Greg. While I am so busy with work this is a godsend for me.
Neither the day care centre nor our case manager has called recently, either. We are sitting in the eye of the storm, I expect. I know for certain that things will start to jerk back to normal this week.
First, I have to call Dr Humerus about mum, Risperidone and the whacking of people over the head. From this will surely flow some new experiment in psychopharmacology. I have to take dad to get his pacemaker checked this week. This may entail further visits to the cardiologist, Dr Iliac, and it may lead to other things too, there is always some kind of chain reaction effect when dealing with mum and dad's issues.
Meanwhile the blog has become intermittent and I've had the opportunity to clear out all the backlog of posts that I had written in my spare time but never posted. Without further ado I shall now get back to work and make hay whiie the sun shines.
Dad's calls have dried up almost completely. Yesterday I did not hear from him. I suspect that this is chiefly due to my recent resistance to his requests. I presume he has transferred the umbilical to either Rachel or Greg. While I am so busy with work this is a godsend for me.
Neither the day care centre nor our case manager has called recently, either. We are sitting in the eye of the storm, I expect. I know for certain that things will start to jerk back to normal this week.
First, I have to call Dr Humerus about mum, Risperidone and the whacking of people over the head. From this will surely flow some new experiment in psychopharmacology. I have to take dad to get his pacemaker checked this week. This may entail further visits to the cardiologist, Dr Iliac, and it may lead to other things too, there is always some kind of chain reaction effect when dealing with mum and dad's issues.
Meanwhile the blog has become intermittent and I've had the opportunity to clear out all the backlog of posts that I had written in my spare time but never posted. Without further ado I shall now get back to work and make hay whiie the sun shines.
Comments
That eye-of-the-storm feeling. I know exactly what you mean. Everything's calm and working according to plan, yet you feel you are surrounded by a powerful storm just outside your range of perception. This must be the permanent "resting" state of the dementia caregiver. Why does it also make me think of PTSD?
May that sun shine long and bright! (And a little breeze blowing over the field is always good for hay-making.)
I, too, was caught by "the eye of the storm" reference. Had a completely different reaction, though, than redcedar's. It reminded me of living through Typhoon Karen (early 1960's) on Guam; how exciting the storm was, including the eye, which seemed, to my child sensibilities, to last forever...then the excitement of living for weeks on end without power or running water. I'm sure my parents were not at all thrilled with the storm or its aftermath, but that sort of thing is right up The Alley of Children.
Thinking of that reminded me of the exhilaration that always hits me soon after I'm confronted with a crisis (usually a health crisis) in my mother's life. I can't say that I haven't appreciated (immensely) the peace of the last few years (I know, unbelievable, that we haven't had any crises for that long). It's wonderful...but, I don't know, for me, anyway, there's always something tempting about a rousing good storm...
That's probably a little sick, from the point of view of normal, but, oh well, what can you do? The call of elder care doesn't seem to be playing favorites, in this era.