Saturday, January 28, 2006
I awoke out of an excellent sex dream...
...so good and so complete that when I came to it took me a moment to realize I wasn't someplace cool, humid and foggy collapsed next to a man running at the same frequency as me...I was here, the sun blasting in through my east facing window, my mother in the next room, her oxygen concentrator breathing the desert air like a greedy beast...my spirit plummeted and that is how my bad day began.
Without wishing to amend myself I became an asshole in need of a few days-of-me...and my day quickly began disagreeing with me. Two trips became necessary on a day when I wasn't interested in making any; one to replace our old water boiler which almost caught fire while I was heating water for my first cup of coffee. Later, after Mom had arisen, I realized we were out of certain supplies of which I hadn't been keeping track and a trip to Costco was in order...couldn't wait for a day or two when I'd feel more like dealing with my mother and turning it into a walkering session.
I informed my mother soon after she arose that I was having a difficult time, today, and repetition was likely to drive me mad, or, at least, into unwarranted nastiness. Interestingly, she took note and the need for repetition was kept to a minimum. It never fails to amaze me that my mother, when the pressure of me going under becomes apparent to her, steps up to the plate and suddenly becomes easier to manage, takes me seriously, listens to me the first time. On the one hand there I times when I desperately need this cooperation from her; on the other, when I receive it because I'm under personal duress it annoys me that she can't muster this cooperation before I begin to show the strain of intense caregiving.
My spirit improved this evening. I'm still desperately in need of time to myself, though. Somehow I'm sure I'll manage a slightly less than adequate substitute over the next few days because, well, because during my mother's bedtime ritual tonight I realized the need is close to overwhelming. I mentioned to her that, just as I had designed most of this evening to suit me...watching movies I wanted to watch whether or not she enjoyed them (she did, much to her surprise), doing things on my schedule rather than on hers, I was planning to design tomorrow and possibly Monday the same way. I sounded a little arrogant, a defensive posture, I guess.
My mother smiled devilishly and said, "Oh ho, really?!?"
Upon which I unexpectedly burst into tears. "Mom," I sobbed, "don't make a joke of it. I spend all day every day most of the time designing days for you. Day after day after day. Most of the time I'm fine with it. Sometimes, though, I have to have some days designed for me, even though, right now, taking care of you, I can't completely design them for me, I have to do the best I can. You can at least respect this and not make a joke of it. This is serious. I'm at the edge. Don't make the mistake of pushing me over by making fun of me."
Whoa! That took the punch line out of her joking. She sobered up and said something I've never heard her say, "I know. You're right. I know in this situation you can't get the time you need to be alone, to be with yourself. I can't promise to remember in the morning, but if you remind me I'll do the best I can for the next few days to respect your needs."
I sobbed once more and thanked her.
And, damnit, after kissing her goodnight and leaving her room, being in the kind of mood I am, I cursed the fact that I'd have to remind her, probably more than once, that tomorrow and most likely Monday will be designed for me, as much as is possible.
How strange to be in a situation in which win-win is the same as no-win. For both of us.
Oh well.
If this is your first visit to this site and the first post you're reading, don't even wonder why I'm not assigning her to respite in a facility or why other family members aren't at hand to take her in for a bit. Search this site and read. And leave me the fuck be. I'm doing the best I can with the tools I have available and the tools I'll accept, for both her and me.
Mundane miscellanea for the day:
Without wishing to amend myself I became an asshole in need of a few days-of-me...and my day quickly began disagreeing with me. Two trips became necessary on a day when I wasn't interested in making any; one to replace our old water boiler which almost caught fire while I was heating water for my first cup of coffee. Later, after Mom had arisen, I realized we were out of certain supplies of which I hadn't been keeping track and a trip to Costco was in order...couldn't wait for a day or two when I'd feel more like dealing with my mother and turning it into a walkering session.
I informed my mother soon after she arose that I was having a difficult time, today, and repetition was likely to drive me mad, or, at least, into unwarranted nastiness. Interestingly, she took note and the need for repetition was kept to a minimum. It never fails to amaze me that my mother, when the pressure of me going under becomes apparent to her, steps up to the plate and suddenly becomes easier to manage, takes me seriously, listens to me the first time. On the one hand there I times when I desperately need this cooperation from her; on the other, when I receive it because I'm under personal duress it annoys me that she can't muster this cooperation before I begin to show the strain of intense caregiving.
My spirit improved this evening. I'm still desperately in need of time to myself, though. Somehow I'm sure I'll manage a slightly less than adequate substitute over the next few days because, well, because during my mother's bedtime ritual tonight I realized the need is close to overwhelming. I mentioned to her that, just as I had designed most of this evening to suit me...watching movies I wanted to watch whether or not she enjoyed them (she did, much to her surprise), doing things on my schedule rather than on hers, I was planning to design tomorrow and possibly Monday the same way. I sounded a little arrogant, a defensive posture, I guess.
My mother smiled devilishly and said, "Oh ho, really?!?"
Upon which I unexpectedly burst into tears. "Mom," I sobbed, "don't make a joke of it. I spend all day every day most of the time designing days for you. Day after day after day. Most of the time I'm fine with it. Sometimes, though, I have to have some days designed for me, even though, right now, taking care of you, I can't completely design them for me, I have to do the best I can. You can at least respect this and not make a joke of it. This is serious. I'm at the edge. Don't make the mistake of pushing me over by making fun of me."
Whoa! That took the punch line out of her joking. She sobered up and said something I've never heard her say, "I know. You're right. I know in this situation you can't get the time you need to be alone, to be with yourself. I can't promise to remember in the morning, but if you remind me I'll do the best I can for the next few days to respect your needs."
I sobbed once more and thanked her.
And, damnit, after kissing her goodnight and leaving her room, being in the kind of mood I am, I cursed the fact that I'd have to remind her, probably more than once, that tomorrow and most likely Monday will be designed for me, as much as is possible.
How strange to be in a situation in which win-win is the same as no-win. For both of us.
Oh well.
If this is your first visit to this site and the first post you're reading, don't even wonder why I'm not assigning her to respite in a facility or why other family members aren't at hand to take her in for a bit. Search this site and read. And leave me the fuck be. I'm doing the best I can with the tools I have available and the tools I'll accept, for both her and me.
Mundane miscellanea for the day:
- Dinner: Home made chili dog for her with a variety and lots of chopped onion and cheese on a bollilo roll, her choice; a lavish salad for me, with lots of feta, green pimiento stuffed olives and Greek dressing. Mine looked so good to my mother (and it was superior) that she wished out loud that she'd chosen that. I was not about to make yet a third dinner, though.
- Bowel Movement at 2310: Fair volume; excellent consistency (thank god, she's not dehydrated anymore); very easy elimination; very easy clean-up.
- Didn't get to any of the writing I intended. It's been hard, lately, for me to write when my mother's up. I'm not sure why. Better luck tomorrow. Maybe she'll want to sleep a lot.
