Well, the owl’s still hanging around and so is Uncle C. Everyday when he rises (which is earlier and earlier daily) we ask how he’s doing. Everyday we get the same answer, “Oh, I don’t know. I hate to keep complaining all the time. And nobody wants to hear me complain, but…” Several times he has walked in looking dejected and declared to us, “I think this is the end. I’ll be gone soon. Don’t think I have much time left here. I’m okay with that. But I thought I’d be around for a couple more years so we could go to Europe or Florida, or Colorado (or fill in the blank)…” But then daily when I get home from work and ask his sitter how he was that day, she always says good, he had a good day. He has her take him to Wal-Mart for items he wants, even bought some wine that he likes this week and drank it with lunch and most nights with supper (that’s in addition to the nightly Bloody Marys). She finally told me yesterday, “He just playing y’all. You don’t know about old people, but they always complain so they can get you to feel sorry for them. He’s fine. I’d know if he sick.” And she would. She has that instinct that I don’t have. I tend to believe everything he tells me.
Every morning he complains about having the sweats during the night, complains about having to change his shirt two or three times a night. My husband keeps telling Uncle C that it is probably because he’s running a low fever. Naw, I don’t think so. I think it is because he had us get him a portable heater for his room and keeps it on 83 degrees! It’s like a sauna in there. When I mentioned to Uncle C that I thought maybe it was because his room was so warm he vehemently disagreed.
One day he tells us that he’s ready to move into the house we own across the street from us and the next day he’s dying so we’re too afraid to move him. Maybe he actually wants to move, wants some privacy, some place to call his own, but he’s scared. I don’t know. Wish I did! It’s not like I can say, “Hey, Uncle C, are you dying or do you want to move? If you don’t want to move just say so, it’s okay, you can stay, just quit dying on us.”
I’m just not sure what to think honestly. Are you on death’s bed as you proclaim or are you just wanting a little extra attention from us? Or is it that you’re just not sure yourself? Whichever, it is killing me. This emotional rollercoaster ride is just torture. One minute he’s dying, the next he’s talking about getting in his camper and driving to Florida for the winter. Holy cow! I’m having trouble dealing with it all.
And then there’s my mom who has her ups and downs as well. One day she looks really good, chatting a bit and clear-eyed. The next might be completely different. The hallucinations continue, Princess is still with her (I haven’t mentioned Princess to dad yet, he might be surprised to know that they have a dog) and invisible people still arrive daily, usually me. She takes it all in stride, but dad doesn’t.
Mom told me the other day that she really looks forward to seeing me everyday. “I do too, mom,” I replied and gave her a kiss. It was a sweet, tender moment and I want to focus on those moments instead of the chaos in my life. It’s difficult, but I’m trying.
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