Friday, September 22, 2006
So far, so good.
I waited until 1300 to awaken my mother, giving both of us an extra 45 minutes. I thought that would help me deal with the day ahead, which I decided would include everything every day designed for blood glucose control includes. It seems, though, I needed yet another calming influence.
When I awoke my mother, I noticed myself tensing. I tried to ignore it but my voice edged toward its "boot camp sergeant" tone. I tried to remain as quiet as possible while getting her to the bathroom. I noticed I was avoiding playing with the cats, which is unusual: Me playing with the cats on the floor is a part of Mom's wake-up routine. It directs her to focus on something that causes her to move close to the edge of the bed, and, besides, lightens everyone's mood. I decided it might do me good to force myself to play with them. It did.
Once we were in the bathroom, though, I became tight and commanding again. This wasn't good. The tone for the day is always set during Mom's bathing time. Luckily, as I was fooling with the wash cloths my better self began a sing-song whisper through my bones to my internal ear:
"I noticed," she said.
"Anyway, I think we'll just take it easy again, today. I'm afraid if I push you to do walkering, or something else, I'll get irritated over stupid things. I don't want to do that, you know. I think it's best for everyone if we just have an easy day. I'm afraid I'm not fit company for man nor beast, today."
"Well, I'm a woman..."
I laughed and interrupted, "...with you naked on the toilet, that's hard to ignore..."
She laughed. "...I was going to say, so you should have no trouble with me. Now, the kitties..."
"Ahh, they'll just spit and me and avoid me, if they need to."
"Well, then, I'd say we're set for the day." She started to rise from the toilet.
"Almost, Mom. After you bathe."
She grinned. "I thought I might be able to pull one over on you," she admitted.
"Not today, Mom!"
So, I guess I'm getting better at negotiating bad days. We had a bit of a tiff over liquids before Mom's nap and I was a little harsh, although not nasty. Otherwise, though, today has been an easy day, thanks to my finer internal self. Better fleetingly high blood glucose than disastrously frayed relationships. Even though my mother's dementia guarantees that she'll forget the fraying tomorrow...why tempt the fates when you don't have to?
When I awoke my mother, I noticed myself tensing. I tried to ignore it but my voice edged toward its "boot camp sergeant" tone. I tried to remain as quiet as possible while getting her to the bathroom. I noticed I was avoiding playing with the cats, which is unusual: Me playing with the cats on the floor is a part of Mom's wake-up routine. It directs her to focus on something that causes her to move close to the edge of the bed, and, besides, lightens everyone's mood. I decided it might do me good to force myself to play with them. It did.
Once we were in the bathroom, though, I became tight and commanding again. This wasn't good. The tone for the day is always set during Mom's bathing time. Luckily, as I was fooling with the wash cloths my better self began a sing-song whisper through my bones to my internal ear:
Gay-yul, Re-memmm-ber...you may be doing well at this, but nurturing is not natural to you and your natural state is to live a-lo-one...when you're stressed, you instinctively push people a-waaay...re-laaax...it's not your mother's fa-ault...be caare-fuul, or you'll stress everyone in the house-hold...I stopped. I took a deep breath. "Mom," I said, "I'm still feeling kind of crummy today."
"I noticed," she said.
"Anyway, I think we'll just take it easy again, today. I'm afraid if I push you to do walkering, or something else, I'll get irritated over stupid things. I don't want to do that, you know. I think it's best for everyone if we just have an easy day. I'm afraid I'm not fit company for man nor beast, today."
"Well, I'm a woman..."
I laughed and interrupted, "...with you naked on the toilet, that's hard to ignore..."
She laughed. "...I was going to say, so you should have no trouble with me. Now, the kitties..."
"Ahh, they'll just spit and me and avoid me, if they need to."
"Well, then, I'd say we're set for the day." She started to rise from the toilet.
"Almost, Mom. After you bathe."
She grinned. "I thought I might be able to pull one over on you," she admitted.
"Not today, Mom!"
So, I guess I'm getting better at negotiating bad days. We had a bit of a tiff over liquids before Mom's nap and I was a little harsh, although not nasty. Otherwise, though, today has been an easy day, thanks to my finer internal self. Better fleetingly high blood glucose than disastrously frayed relationships. Even though my mother's dementia guarantees that she'll forget the fraying tomorrow...why tempt the fates when you don't have to?
