Archive for May 17th, 2009

He is such a dear

I feel so, so guilty

It’s just so frustrating

What is it like

How does One function

In a fog all day?

I listen to myself

Sound like a recorder

Turn on the light

Yes, you wanted the bathroom

No, don’t come back here

Go down the hall

Why? Cause you need the bathroom

Yes, Buddy’s been fed

A thousand times “yes” to myself

I just had a bath. No, it was Friday.

Take your jeans off for bed

Take your slippers off

Mark’s in Vancouver with MiHwa

Let me help you with your runners

We fed Buddy, did we?

No, get in the front seat

I’ll help you get the grocery cart

Come here, let’s wash

I just washed

No, that was this morning, let’s wash

No, Brian is at his home

Buzzzzzzzz – my brain is buzzing, my heart is hurting, his brain’s not working

Why is my heart racing

What is that stabbing pain

Why the nausea

Time to go to bed, sleep it off, so to speak. Get up and start all over again. Tonight I listened to “us” – Lordy, sounds like a tape recorder. The poor guy can’t do anything on his own. I really don’t mind, he would do this and more for me. I’m afraid I could crack and not be able to function for a bit. I’ve always been known a wimp, physically. At what point do I say “enough” even tho I want to carry on?

There is guilt for home care – he is cooling toward the care aids

Guilt for day care – he hates it

Guilt cause I feel guilty

Guilt cause we had respite, well, I did. He was so hurt to be put in a care facility

He is funny, kind and gentle. Feel so sorry for him, sorry for me. Someone mentioned that they  “miss us”  and the things we used to do – I miss us, too.

But, tomorrow is another day, we’re planting pots for the deck. Maybe that will kick start me again.

As I moved the cursor to hit publish, he asked, “So we fed Buddy, didn’t we?” The poor guy.