I Can Type Through Closed Eyes

How can someone, let’s say me, go from a woman who was thrilled only a night ago when Al said he loved his sister  to the wicked witch of the west this morning.

This is the fourth night in a row I am not getting any quality of sleep. Quality, an interesting word, I think.

Quality of life, quality of living, quality of spending time together. Now suddenly this seven letter word can’t seem to release itself from my pointy tongue this morning.

I am not usually awake at 7am but here I am. Sitting here with a half-empty cup of coffee. A smoldering blue line of smoke rising from my ashtray. My  pink long-sleeved nightgown with Christmas gifts for its scene. I think this is to remind me that it is truly the Christmas season we are about to enter into.

As I look out through half-slit blinds I see the first ray of daylight peeking through. Another night has come and gone. Al has just gone to sleep and I am sitting here bitchy inside. I know I am tired but I don’t know how to fix it.

Yesterday Al went to the Day Program. I had an appointment I had to attend to and then I scurried to the grocery store; like a squirrel going after nuts to store for the winter. Except I was replenishing our kitchen cupboards and refrigerator.

Grocery shopping has become a chore more than a pleasure. Maybe a lot of you don’t see pushing a noisy, wire, gum stuck on the wheeled cart down the aisles a pleasure, but I always did. It was a chance to look out for people I know, a chat here and there, looking for the bargains.

But anymore it is do I have everything I need for Al. Will he be able to eat this meat or not? Do I have the apple juice, prune juice, the kind of snacks he eats. Which by the way the latest rage in our house is Little Debbie Star Crunch or Kellogg’s Pop Tarts. Do I have his yogurt. I hope I have enough macaroni and cheese since he can eat this pretty easy. Do I have  enough pancake batter? Oh that reminds me, do I have enough chocolate chips left at home for the week? We have to add the chips to the batter.

Ever since Al has become worse he extremely enjoys chocolate and sweets. Oh crap, I didn’t check the amount of chocolate ice-cream. I better pick up another box. Can you believe I take a list with me also?

This is how scatter brained I am it seems lately. In between the list I  need to be home running the washer, which will be Al’s bedding. I really should be sweeping and dusting his room since he is gone right now.

Have I changed my own sheets this week? Oh forget that, change the sheet on the couch, because this is where I have laid my  head this past week.  A much shorter walk to Al’s bed then my bedroom.

I feel like my life is out of control. It is spinning but never stopping. I look at that empty couch and dream of my head on that pillow but also realize that the helper will be here in less than an hour and I am still not dressed. I haven’t touched my hair or brushed my teeth.

I did manage to give Rhino fresh food and water. Saving the cleaning of the cat box for when my eyes are more awake. That fat cat is in on my comfy bed, sleeping on my extra pillow. Al has finally drifted off to sleep, and so here I sit, the wicked witch of the west.

Feeling sorry for myself, pouring my tired thoughts out to you. Obviously looking for a pity party. It is funny as I look back at what I wrote. A grown woman, full of love and compassion. Empathy is my middle name and yet I am definitely green-faced and cat claws are showing, just like the photo above.

And all this is from a silly thing called lack of sleep. Do you think I will turn into Dorothy’s worst nightmare and remain this way? Lord I hope not. When the caregiver comes and breakfast and medications are over, I am going to find my pillow and we are going to meet somewhere in the middle. I don’t care if it is daylight or not.