I'm back at Joe and Lola's after 2 days at home. Heaven. The sitter remarked that she thinks Joe is getting more forgetful. She related that one night when he was going to bed, he went into the den and put his coat on. She asked him what he was doing, and he replied he was going to bed. Hello. She tried to tell him he didn't need his coat to go to bed, but nothing got through. He tottered into his bedroom, went back out to the den and took the coat off and finally went to bed.
After that, yes, Joe's meanderings for going to bed are getting worse. At 8:30 the night I got back, he started wandering the house. I went into the kitchen while he was brushing his teeth (amazing), and found the orange juice, the punch, and a grape soda from the refrigerator sitting on the kitchen table. I put them back in the fridge.
I turned off all the lights in the den. He wandered some more, went back into the den, turned the lights on, did something, left the room leaving the lights on. At 9:15 he was in the kitchen in the fridge getting a soda out. He's always wanted water for bed. Don't know what's up with this. I gave him some punch which he carried back to his room. I went back out to the den. The table light was on along with the garage light and the garage door unlocked. Turned off lights and locked door.
I looked in Dad's bedroom. He's now sleeping with a lamp on. He has 3 styrofoam cups lined up with water in them along with his glass of punch.
Wednesday, the first full day of me being back, Joe spent the whole day messing with the meal schedule. Thursday went no better. Joe slept until 10:00 a.m., which is most unusual for him. All the previous schedules are now out the window. There's no telling when he's up, when he's in the room, when he wants a meal, nothing. Just let the toddler run free, keep it from killing itself, and feed it if it settles down.
Bad storms were in the offing for Tuesday night. I did due diligence and got medicines, purses, phones, etc., down in the basement just in case. Had to gather candles cause flashlights have again gone awol. There used to be many kerosene lamps here, but they, too, have gone awol. Fortunately, we didn't have to flee to the basement.
Tonight, Wednesday, at 1:00 a.m. Mom came into the living room to tell me that the bulb had broken off in her flashlight. First, there's no need for her to use a flashlight when there are other lights on in the house. Second, she's not supposed to walk to the bathroom at night as she has a potty not more than 3 feet from her bed. Third, no bulb had broken; the batteries were dead. But can I find an alternative flashlight? Hell no.
Excuse my French, but what the hell are they doing with the friggin' flashlights? How are they disappearing before my eyes? I've bought, what, five? in the last 3 months? In the vernacular, Mother was like, well, Gayle, there's no need to get upset, and I'm like, No? I've bought five flashlights in 3 months and I can't give you one to replace yours unless I give you my one which I've kept hidden?
There is nothing upbeat or uplifting to write about in caring for elderly parents in the average run of a day. The very few things that may be funny or joyful are so overweighed by the dismal, the irritating, the hopeless, the fatigue, the anxiety, that they simply get left behind and overshadowed.