A Speeding Bus

On this post I am not going to beat myself up as my friends say to me. I do want to try and fix my problem. So what better place to go to get the help I need. I start my mornings rushing. The first thing I try to do is give thanks to God that I have one more day to cherish. I look outside to see the weather so I know how to dress.

I make the coffee. Before I get Al up I feel that I must clean the cat box. Sweep up the kitty litter so I don’t get it on my feet. Sometimes if I think about it I will wear socks upon getting out of bed. But then again, I will transfer it from my socks to the carpet. I try to make my bed. Feed the cat. Wash up and brush my teeth, get dressed.

By now I am getting tired because I still have to get Al up. So I race into his bedroom. I get him up. Take him to the bathroom. Scrub-a-dub him and dress him for the day. Shave him and then take him to the kitchen table.

I try to smile and ask politely what he wishes for breakfast, then I start that process. After his second or third bite I give him his medications. I try to force myself to sit down with him and smoke a cigarette and drink one cup of coffee. The problem is while I am sitting my mind is racing about what can I really be doing instead of sitting.

Before I put Al on the bus I have beds made and kitchen floor swept, dishes down, laundry is getting ready to be placed in dryer. On Thursdays like today, I have already changed both beds and it is washing.

Once he leaves I come in and take my own medications and eat my breakfast. Then I sit down to the computer or meet with Hospice. Maybe get groceries. I have to get groceries on Thursdays or Fridays. It is too hard to take Al to the grocery store so I feel like I have to get that done. Medication boxes need to be refilled.

Trash is constantly being gathered. I try to get out in my yard to do some yard work, but that doesn’t happen often. I think about the days I could go see my friend two  hours a way but something always comes up.

Just sitting here reading what I have read makes me tired. A few hours after I have been up I want to take a nap. Sometimes I do, but not much. I will try to take a nap in the afternoon so I can be ready to tackle the evening when Al comes home.

What did I enjoy through the day? Not much really. It sucks, it stinks and I don’t know how I got this way. But, in real truth, I don’t know how to stop. I guess I want everything perfect. I want everything to run perfect. I want to  prepare myself as much as I can for what ever may happen in the evening.

I even lay Al’s clothes out for the next day early today. That is crazy crap. No time for shopping usually. I have wasted it being to prepared. Prepared for what? A fire, tornado, break in, what?

How do I stop this? I really do believe in the words, slow down and smell the roses.

But I don’t know how to make it happen.speeding bus

One Lovely Blog Award


If you want to spend great laughter with a high energy writer, please make sure to visit this fantastic web page!

I discovered a moment ago, that I was nominated for One Lovely Blog Award.

This is wonderful, but now I am worried, as I worked hard to think up new things to tell you about with the prior award, so what is a person to do? Place thinking cap on. Tick tock!

The seven things I should not tell you but today I will bring myself to do so are

Golden Girls is my number two show I watch

American Idol is where you will find me all winter long

I watch Young and the Restless almost daily, but at least on Fridays

I have to sleep with the fan running and on me 365 days a year and I have a spare, in case one breaks during the winter months and you can’t pay a million dollars to find one

I love going to the zoos, but don’t want any of them critters living inside my home

I always wished I had thick, shiny hair, like the women on the television commercials

The nominations are




Thank you so much for this beautiful nomination!!

There Are Changes, And No Changes

licking salt off the plate at the thai curry i...

licking salt off the plate at the thai curry in a hurry restaurant – _MG_8072 (Photo credit: sean dreilinger)

How do I do it? Get over myself? Get used to this is the way it is, and there is nothing I can do about it. It is not his fault, it is not my fault, it is the disease’s fault. I tell myself that I am being stupid, that people aren’t really looking at him, but I know they are, I have seen it many times. It bothers me very little when we are at home, because I realize that he can’t help it nor fix it, but when out in public, I want to sit somewhere else. I have to change myself, and quit thinking on me. Parkinson’s has helped my brother, Al, to stick his nose to the plate when eating. I have questioned Al here at home as to why he does this, and he tells me so he doesn’t drop his food, or miss his mouth. I understood immediately, so why aren’t I understanding out in open view? Is it my upbringing of good table manners? I sometimes think it is. My mom was very strict about table manners. No swinging of feet under the table while eating. Sit up straight, raise the fork and spoon to the mouth. Don’t lean-to the silver ware,lift, lift, lift. I have even been poked with my mom’s fork, for having my elbows on the table before. It used to make me mad when she did this, but I learned quickly in order not to get poked again. You can not leave the table until your plate is emptied. If I didn’t care for a food she served that day, I could just sit there until I did learn to like it and eat it. Don’t get up from the table until you ask permission. May I be excused please? Today, if I was placed at a table, where you had many pieces of silver ware, I would know which to use first, but I eat at my computer table, while Al eats at the kitchen table, because it is uncomfortable to be stared at the entire meal, plus the silence kills me. Al watches me like a hawk looking for prey. It is instilled in him from the unkind remarks our dad used to make to him. Dad never said a kind word to Al, he always cut him down. Al didn’t do anything wrong, it was his mentally challenged brain that dad would not learn to accept, therefore taking it out on Al constantly. Now that I am his caregiver, he has just transferred all his feelings of dad over to me. I used to ask Al to quit staring, and stop being so quiet. It didn’t work. He would get angry with me, because I was putting him on the defense again, and I got so nervous, that I would get up from the table and not eat supper. The solution was, separate us. Now, I have less table manners than before. I remember them, I just don’t use them. My elbows are on the table, and no one is poking them.  He watches the news, and I listen to the news, and eat, and try to read blog stories. It doesn’t feel very friendly, but it works. I also don’t like watching the news any longer. Not for the reason, that you think, that the news sucks, or that all is negative and bad things, but because Al doesn’t understand a lot of things. He picks up what the newscaster is saying, but he doesn’t go deep enough in his mind, to analyze the reasons behind what is being said. An example is yesterday evening, the weather man was telling the weather. When he commented that the next three days were going to be exceptionally warm for spring, with very little rain, my brother got pretty upset. He was talking not to the weatherman, but to the weather itself. He told the weather that it knew better. That it knew that it was supposed to be not so hot for spring, and then he answered the weather sitting on the opposite chair, as if the weather could talk and there was a two-way conversation, although it was only Al. He told the weather, that it knew better and that it would be sorry, and then he said, I thought you would see it my way, you bad thing! Al does this two-party conversation alone all the time with the complete news. I have asked Al if he would like me to change the TV, or maybe we could just turn it off during meal times, but he said no. He explained to me that he always watches the news during his meals, and that I should know this by now. We don’t change Al’s routines, unless it is a dire emergency. He gets very confused and can become quite agitated over the slightest changes. I am the one who has made all of the changes in our lives. I do not get out and walk any longer. I no longer sleep in because he could get up before me. I can no longer pick up and go to anyplace in the afternoons, because he has to nap between three thirty and five thirty daily. I have to change his bedding each Thursday whether I feel like it or not. His room and bathroom has to be cleaned and swept on Fridays, because this is the way he has always done it. Suppers have to be served at six because this is when he has always eaten, so sometimes I don’t even eat my own until seven or seven-thirty, because I am not hungry. We may eat a late lunch, and he is not hungry either at six, but he has to eat. After his birthday party, there was left over ice-cream, so Al started having a dish of it at bed time. Now I have to make sure there is ice-cream here each night, because he has formed a new routine. So I am always going around here checking my mental list of what day is it, are the right foods  here, planning my activities according to what I am serving for dinner. I never lived like this before. I was much calmer, a happy-go-lucky gal, that played my free time from work as I saw fit. Now, I am trying to figure out how to get myself to accept and be calmer about his nose in the plate out in public. Although, I do understand, I still get embarrassed. What can I do?