Mass Confusion

I’m super tired so I’m going to make this quick.

She’s particularly loony of late.

She thinks I’m my sister. She doesn’t call me by her name, nor my name either for that matter. But she complimented me on how I’ve really gotten to know my way around town, as if I’ve lived here most of my life. She said “she” walks my dog every day; by which she meant I walk my dog everyday but she referred to me as she like she was talking to someone who isn’t me. She said I do the best job of everyone who put her drops in at night. (I am the only one who ever does this because it’s her, me, and the dog in this house, that’s it.) She didn’t know where her bedroom was tonight. Upstairs? No, because we don’t have an upstairs.

I’m trying not to let any of this bother me. I don’t know why it bothers me at all. I don’t care that she thinks I’m my sister. I’ve heard her question many times if her bedroom is upstairs, or say that she doesn’t know where her bedroom is, or ask if I have a bed to sleep in. On some level it might be the mental gymnastics I have to do to keep up with the crazy. Don’t argue–don’t contradict–don’t correct–live in their world. I guess I’m not used to doing this and that’s what’s bothering me. It’s a challenge, and one I’m not used to meet head on.

We went to her friend’s memorial service last Saturday. She’d remembered that her friend died (February 2020) and wanted to attend the service. The other of their threesome rode with us and it was good they got to spend some time together even if it was a very sad event for them both. Their deceased friend had one son, married, two grown children. Mom knows this but does not remember. She asked the son several times if he was the son. I cringed every time she asked but he was very patient and answered every time as if it was the first time she’d ever asked. I’m always grateful for people’s patience with her repeated questions.

I’m grateful too that she continues to be kind, non-argumentative, calm, and easy going. She gets anxious which manifests as questions. Lots and lots of questions. Repeated questions. Where are we going? Which doctor is this? Have I seen him before? Why are we going? What does this doctor do? What time do we have to be there? Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Today she got frustrated which made her voice sharp, as if she was getting angry. Is this a warning sign that bad times are coming?

My only real complaint is that we have to spend every second together. From the time we get up in the morning until we go to bed at night we have to be together. Well, I guess not while I’m mowing the lawn. But every other second must be spent together. I’m grateful for Wednesday mornings when she goes out for coffee with her friends and I get a couple of hours to myself. I’m hoping to get her involved in an exercise class so I can go workout on my own during that time. Otherwise she’ll have to be right there next to me while I ride the bike or walk the treadmill. Well, it’s nothing I should be complaining about. I’m fine. It’s all fine. She’s doing well and I’m grateful. She’s just particularly wacky of late that’s all.

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