The Truth Hurts
Are you getting tired of hearing about Al? Just let me know and I will force myself to find…
http://dailypost.wordpress.com, DP, Daily Prompt
Are as comfortable in front of a camera as behind one? Being written about, as well as writing?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us DISCOMFORT.
Discomfort huh, now that is an interesting word. My discomfort may be your pleasure. We are all so different. Instead of me writing about what I find a discomfort, how about I show you some photos of this dreadful word. I bet you can figure them out just by looking at them. Now let’s have some fun friends. Can I hear a laugh now and then?
Are you getting tired of hearing about Al? Just let me know and I will force myself to find something else to talk about. I promised myself that I would write on the Daily Prompt tonight but I had to write about Al once again.
Now you may not think this is important, but to Al it is very important. He went poo today. Actually he has gone poo three days in a row.
He somewhere became obsessed about it when he was in the nursing home. If he doesn’t go every day he just gets very upset. So three days in a row, wow, he thought.
He had a new pain patch on this morning, so he is getting good doses of pain medication today. He got new gifts from me when he came home. He told me, he was the luckiest dog in the world. He went poo and got coca cola gifts. Wow, did this warm my heart.
He was chattering a way about his day and then said, “I think the illness is going a way. I think I am really lucky.”
Now I didn’t expect that remark from someone who is constantly wanting to die. It was nice to see his spirits up and we both talked about it, but in the back of my mind I was sad for him, because I knew the illness was here to stay.
After supper I got him all washed up and he was tired and wanted to take a nap. Usually when I put him to bed he struggles terribly but he can scoot himself over to the side so I can then flip him over and put a pillow behind him. He loves to sleep in his side.
But tonight he couldn’t do it. No matter how hard and long he tried the sweat poured, the body shook and he couldn’t do it. He looked at me through tear-filled eyes and said, ” I guess it made a fool out of me. The illness is not going to go anywhere. It is going to stay until I die.”
He cried and I sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand while he wept. Then with my prompting of taking deep breaths and thinking about Mom I got him to relax and he drifted to sleep.
Let me out of the washing machine. I am being spun around and washed until there is no dirt remaining. Can’t you see me in here? I am punching the safety glass, blowing more bubbles through my nose than even the soap has and yet no one rescues me.
Every day someone throws me in another dirty pile of crap. Expecting me to come clean, to know all the answers. Well listen here, I am just a plain Jane gal from the small midwest and I don’t know anymore than you do.
Take me out of the washer and place me in the dryer with some towels that will grow fluffy as they dry. I will bounce around falling gently on each soft piece of cotton. I will lay my head down and let the warmth of each slice of fabric wrap me gently up and cradle me through the timed cycle.
When the buzzer goes off, you have been warned that I am now in perfect, like-new condition once again. Hold me gently. Fold me evenly and lie me carefully on the shelf. Remember my color and please don’t grab for me first. Let me rest for a spell. Let me get my thoughts back together.
Then come for me. I promise I will be at my best. You can pick at my fiber and maybe I will not look you in the face with a dumb blank stare. Maybe I will be useful immediately when you probe me. Maybe I will be the best darn thing you have looked at all day.
This was my morning friends. My brain isn’t even a wake yet and already the phone is ringing. People want answers. People ask about Al. How is his pain, does he need anything? This is great, I couldn’t ask for more. But, can you give me five seconds to wake up? Can you wait until I have had my first cup of coffee or maybe splashed some cold water on my half-closed eyes?
You have to remember that I don’t get as much sleep as I used to. Al has rough nights and sometimes isn’t asleep until wee hours in the morning.
As I had to do a complete bed change on Al’s bed this morning and also change my bedding, fix him breakfast, wash him up, get him dressed, shave, brush his teeth, pick out which car he was taking to Day Program for Show-n-tell, fix his lunch, make sure he had pop money, start the laundry, put new sheets on the beds, answer the phone, answer the cell, I was pooped. I had all this done by 8:30am.
As I left to meet with the Hospice nurse I saw an accident waiting to happen on my way to town. A very elderly man was riding a riding lawn mower. He was mowing close to the edge of a pond. He was also on a slant. He was so darn close to the edge I just had an eerie feeling that the pond would suck him in at any moment.
I actually stopped on the edge of the road and watched him a few minutes and then I prayed for his safety. I met the nurse and she asked me 20 questions. Hospice and two doctors are considering taking more of Al’s medications a way. Letting him ride out his journey in more comfort instead of continuous side-effects.
This is something that I am totally mixed up about. If you take a way his medications what will happen? Will his heart stop? Will his blood pressure soar? Will he be more comfortable? I don’t know the answers, please don’t ask me my thoughts. This is my baby brother and I have been the one all along dragging me feet in the sand.
Don’t put this pressure on me. Ask someone else who isn’t close to him. I am not a coward. I just don’t want to be the one responsible if Al dies earlier than he should. How could I live with that?
I left the meeting and went to the car wash and washed the car. It was so full of bird poo that I am surprised the paint was not starting to chip a way. I stopped at my favorite little shop that sells used consignments and bought Al some Coca Cola post cards, a coca cola battery operated radio, and some coca cola coaster. I can’t wait to give them to him when he comes home.
I collect a few things. One of them being shakers. The old-time giant salt shakers? Yes, those. I found a really old one. The lid was tin and pretty thin, and the shaker was worn itself but the word salt was still clear and the shaker is in that old yellow color. It was a good buy so I got that to add to my shelf.
That was relaxing. Although I was thinking of Al while shopping, wondering if I could find him something, I wasn’t answering questions. I was alone and it was nice.
I stopped at the grocery store and got Al more prune juice and pop. I never want to be without either one of these. My sugar dropped too low while I was in the store so the deli gave me a chicken strip and a little cup of apple salad.
I stood there eating it kicking that stupid Diabetes right in the butt. I hate being a diabetic, I really do. When I am not hungry of I am busy I don’t want to take the time out to eat. But when my legs became jello and black shadows were forming around my eyeballs, I knew I was in trouble.
Thanks to the store I made it safely on my way and now am home. Thank goodness, I have an hour and a half before Al comes home.
Rice In His Hair?
It’s been a busy day. Getting Al up and fed. Next washed up and dressed. Teeth brushed, bed…