Thursday, May 31, 2012

The gifts...

A friend, who is a member of an online group that I belong to, is also a caretaker of a dementia patient.  We commented on each other's posts last night about some of the things that our family member does.  We started laughing and were just so silly for over an hour.  I can honestly say that I haven't laughed that hard in a very long while. 

In the middle of the hilarity we threw out the idea that what if these situations really aren't that funny? What if the stress of "living through it" makes a horrible situation just seem funny?  Does stress really gift you with that release valve? What if seeing someone poop YOUR stolen panties doesn't cause the normal person to break out into fits of giggles (after the fact, of course)?  How wondrous is that?  That we are given an escape of an otherwise intolerable situation with the gift of laughter is nothing short of amazing. And another amazing gift?  Just being able to talk to someone else who understands, someone who gets it and knows that you aren't crazy and that you are not a hero. Thanks, Jennifer.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Walk a mile in my shoes, if you can find them...

Most people who are not caretakers do NOT understand how I can possibly laugh at some of my mother's actions. Some go so far as to lecture me that she can't help her actions.  I, of all people, get that.   Some days it is the laughter that allows my family and I to remain sane.  I hope you can see the humor.

Today I was using the Voice to Text feature on my phone.  Everytime I said something into the phone, my mom yelled an answer to what she thought she heard. 
Me: I had to get the brakes fixed today. 
Mom:  No thank you. I already ate. I think.
Me: They wanted $500! 
Mom:  I am not hollering! (as she yelled from across the room). 
Me:  The shop thinks I'm a stupid woman. 
Mom:  No, I don't feel like vacuuming.

I buy myself a lot of new shoes, not because I want them, because she steals them and hides them from me.

My favorite things are the collections. She has collections that she doesn't know she has.  I have to sneak into her room daily and remove the pieces of bread that she has hidden. She goes to the kitchen for a glass of water and hides the bread in her pockets.  Oh, and she loves used straws and lids. Any and all lids... even if they are still being used, she just removes them and hides them.

Last Summer she found the box of bomb pops...

Apparently, she didn't like them.