Tonight's picture was taken in September of 2008. It maybe difficult to understand what you are looking at! Mattie was lying in his hospital bed and was miserable. He did not want to hear or see anyone. NOT an easy feat when living in a pediatric intensive care unit. When I tell you that people came into the room at ALL times of the day, some without knocking, I am NOT kidding. It was very unsettling at first, until we adjusted to life on the "inside." That day, we tried to set up a tent of blankets for Mattie to give him some privacy and security. But you can see from Mattie's face, he was very upset, scared, and not happy with this existence.
Quote of the day: The single moment when I knew that I had to get busy and do more was around the death of my son. ~ Bobby Rush
Saturday night turned out to be a very difficult night as my mom started peppering me about things and then said (what drives me up the wall), "I should never have left California." To be specific, she said that she hates living here. Literally I felt like World War III broke out in my house and my dad had absolutely no idea what was going on. I wish I could buy my mom a plane ticket and have her visit Los Angeles, but she is no longer capable of logistics or managing herself safely. Of course she will not acknowledge or accept that reality! Any case, my mom stormed upstairs and left my dad sitting in his chair, and she did not come downstairs again. I asked my dad if he wanted to go to bed, but since it was only 8:30pm, he instead wanted to watch TV with me. Which I did, until I took him upstairs at 10pm. My point to all of this is I am NOT just balancing the physical issues and tasks associated with caregiving. NO, I am also absorbing a lot of emotional angst, hostility, and anger. Needless to say, it is very difficult for one human being.
I tried to keep things even keeled today because I couldn't handle another day like yesterday. I took my parents out to brunch, as I do every Sunday. Though I had my dad use the bathroom before helping him into the car, I knew trouble was coming my way! While driving, I could see my dad making a grimace, which is the tell tale sign that a massive bowel movement is on the way. But of course I was driving and on a highway. As soon as I entered the restaurant, I escorted my dad to the ladies room to clean and change him. So the fun started early. The only beauty about dementia is my dad forgets things that have happened five minutes ago. I may remember the bathroom nightmare, but fortunately he doesn't. He carries on like nothing happened, which is a blessing. Because he feels no shame, disappointment, or disgust about his accidents.
I am grateful to all our servers and the managers of the restaurants we visit. They all understand my dad's condition, and have no problem with me heading right into the ladies room with him. For the most part, most women have no issues with this either, though I have run into a few people who have given me a hard time in the restroom. For them, all I can say is I hope they age with grace and dignity and never need the help that I am providing my parents.
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