April 12, 2020

We’re well.
Mom thinks I’m over-reacting to the threat. She’s right. I think she’s under-reacting. I’m right. I cannot let her get sick and die so I demand hand washing, masks, hand sanitizer, and limited contact with people. She was a couple of feet from our neighbor today and I freaked out.
Her memory is worse than ever. She’s not confused as much as just really, really forgetful. I tell her what we’re having for dinner and seconds later she’s forgotten. A neighbor waved and said hello while we were walking and mom couldn’t remember who it was even though she’s known this woman going on 30 years. There are dozens of more instances.
One thing I think is good for her is the resumption of her Wednesday morning breakfast group. Someone set up a Zoom meeting and I get mom logged on each Wednesday morning and get her logged off a couple of hours later. Mom doesn’t have much to say but it’s good for her to see her friends– the ones she remembers, that is.
She’s getting better about staying home. She still wants to go get ice cream all the time, but she’s more agreeable to staying home. We’ve been able to do a bit of yard work, and once the weather breaks, being able to spend more time in the yard will cut down on the feeling of being stuck in the house.
We’re fine. So far. Every step outside, every minute spent out walking or shopping, every bag, box, or package brought into the house is a threat to our lives, but so far we are fine. I wait for the day when I feel sick, when mom starts running a fever, when we’re desperate for some sort of medical care and can’t get it because there just aren’t enough resources to go around. I worry about us both going into the hospital and my poor dog here at home starving to death because we’re not here to take care of him. It’s all too, too upsetting. But we’re fine for now, and I’m grateful for that.

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