Never ever ever agree with your six year old and tell your wife that she looks like "Cruella DeVille" nor should you tell her she has an "old lady" haircut when she's trying to grow out a pixie and JUST got back from the salon.
For the record, I felt like a fucking rockstar when I got home. That lasted the whole 20 seconds from when I walked through the door and took off my hat (and the only reason I was wearing a hat was because I had to put gas in the car and it was 7 degrees outside - you'd be wearing a hat too). Thanks for completely ruining it for me. Both you and the six year old.
Oh, and then don't wonder why your wife really doesn't want to be in the same room as you. Here's a hint: you made her cry for 10 minutes. She's still so mad that she's not even sure she wants to go see Star Wars with you tomorrow. She may go, but she probably isn't going to talk to you. Just saying.
Monday, December 04, 2017
Today is feeling like a Plot Twist-y kind of day.
Today, I have to put on my super big girl pants and go see the last of the specifically made for memory care facilities that are available in the area. This means I have to make a decision. This also means I have to start planning for everything else that I have conveniently until just a few moments ago (that was when my head exploded, by the way), shoved into a box at the back of my mind. Compartmentalizing. That's what it's called. At least, that's what Casey tells me. Me? I call it "Look at me! I'm an ostrich with my head in the sand!"
The hard part? I'm the one that has to make the decision where my mom goes next. Oh, wait, I didn't tell you this was about my mom? Yep! The dementia has reached a new stage and it's not going well. My current favorite word: Aqueducts. Because it all goes without saying.
For the past few weeks I have been touring memory care specific facilities. It has become very clear to me over the course of the past few months (and especially the past few weeks) that my mom can no longer stay in her current assisted living facility. While it's lovely for people who don't have dementia, for the people that do... Well, let's just say I don't think that when a nurse, who works with geriatric folks, should be surprised when someone who has dementia behaves in a certain way that is contrary to the other people in the facility who do not suffer from dementia. Also, when there are hygiene specific issues that could have been easily remedied by just actually checking on said person the way they're supposed to be checked on? Yeahhhhhh..... I am not a happy camper and nor should I have to get all shouty at people to do the damn job that we're paying them to do.
So now I have seen all the memory care facilities in the area. Now I get the dubious task of deciding where to send my mom next. My mom, of course, should be a part of this decision. BUT if there is anything that I have learned over the course of this disease is that the more choices she has, the worse it is. I find myself constantly second guessing myself when it comes to this. Is this the best choice? Would she enjoy this place versus the other place? Is there any way in hell I can keep her where she's at and maybe just install cameras and then get shouty when people don't do the job they're supposed to? Or is that just a really bad idea and as my Hubby says "If you're thinking about installing cameras, doesn't that tell you something?" It should. It probably does. I'm just not sure, though...
But nothing is really going wrong. Nothing is going right either. Nothing is just.... going? Too much? Not enough? Ugh, I just don't know. I don't like these pants. I think I'm going to take them off and trade them for my unicorn onesie. And a cookie. And it's just for the rest of the day. I promise I'll be better tomorrow.