Tag Archives: confusion

S.R.M.

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Stark.

Raving.

Mad.

Stark Raving Mad: informal, meaning completely insane.

Yes, I am going stark raving mad. I know. I signed up for this. Dad will be 88 years old in February of 2025. I get it. I expected things would be a bit nuts as he got older but holy bat shit, Robin! 

Some days are better than others. Some days there are no issues at all. Today? Ugh. Today is one of those days where you just want to pull your damn hair out and scream. 

It started first thing this morning. I just woke up and I saw on my weather app that we are supposed to have thunderstorms on Tuesday. I told Dad that I hope I don’t lose our internet/wifi (we have a satellite phone) because I am expecting an important phone call from the SSA regarding my SSI benefit. I’d just hate to have to call them back – you know how it is. They leave you on hold for 40 minutes before they actually get to you and then they end up transferring your call to another department, and so on. Anyway, Dad said he hoped for no storms as well because he might miss his call from the Husqvarna folks regarding his mower. They are supposed to call before they come out to pick it up for repairs. I reminded Dad of what he told me last week. He said that he told them if they can’t get ahold of us then to just come pick it up. He said he never told me that. He told me what they said about calling before coming. I told him that yes, he told me that but he also told me that he told them if they couldn’t get ahold of us then to just come pick it up. He argued with me until I just dropped it. I try not to get that “I’m right and you’re wrong” attitude because there have been times that I have been wrong, but he always does this to me about so many things! I can tell him he already saw a certain movie and he’ll argue that he didn’t and swear up and down that he did not. He actually gets pissed off! So, I just let him watch the damn movie over again. No big deal but then about 30 minutes into the damn movie he tells me that I was right. He did see that movie afterall. Ugh.

Anyway, after lunch we had the same discussion we had last week. Dad had an appointment with his Cardiologist who happens to be Japanese with an accent that is hard to understand unless you concentrate very hard. When Dad came out from his appointment, he told me that the doctor wants him to take acidophilus to help lower his blood pressure. I’m look at him dumbfounded and I tell him that can’t be right because acidophilus is a probiotic and it’s for your gut. Good grief. He argued with me. It was listed on his printout. The next thing on the printout was Amlodapine (sp?) which he already takes so then we assumed that the doctor was just going to give him another script to take another dose at a different time during the day. But there was no explanation on the printout and Dad said the doctor didn’t say anything about that. I’m sure this doctor is a good one but there’s always so much confusion – and I’m not sure if it’s the doctor’s accent, or my Dad, or both.

A day after his appointment, Dad gets an email from Humana telling him that his new script for Isosorbide Mononitrate ER was being processed. Why the fuck didn’t the Cardiologist’s office put that on the printout like they did the acidophilus? You’d think anything new would be put on the list with any new instructions but I guess that’s just too much to ask. We had both forgotten about the Isosorbide Mononitrate ER today, but eventually I remembered and then he argued that he never got anything from Humana about any new medication! Holy balls. Anyway, we got it all straightened out but what’s next? 

My brain is exhausted all the time. I not only have to deal with my pain and mobility issues, which are constantly in my brain, right there (pointing to my forehead) not letting me forget, as if I could, but I have to keep up with Dad and his meds and his this, that, and the other thing. And he wonders why I stay up until 1am every night. I need those hours (3 to be exact) after he goes to bed, so that I can relax, recharge, and dump all of the shit from my brain into the atmosphere. Lol. Otherwise, I won’t sleep. During those hours I don’t have to worry about him because he’s in bed. I don’t have to be on high alert. He has a pee can in his room so he doesn’t get out of bed. I don’t have to worry about him falling down or bumping his head or spilling something…or some…thing… 

Wish me luck!

The Road of Aggravation

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Yesterday was rough. By the end of the day I was ready to pull my hair out. It all started after lunch when Dad said he needed income tax forms printed up soon so he could get his taxes filed. Ok, no problem, right? You’d think it couldn’t be that difficult. I’ll tell you it was. It went something like this:

Dad: “I need tax forms printed up soon. When you get around to it, no rush.”

Me: “No problem. I just need to know which forms.”

Dad: “The federal short form and the state short form.”

Me: “But which ones? There are a lot of forms. If you bring me last year’s forms I’ll have something to go by.” (I don’t remember which forms he had last year and I’d like to know exactly which forms because they’re easier to find!)

Dad: “The 1040, I think. But the short form, not the long form because that damn thing is 50 pages long!” (He gets up to get last year’s forms.)

Thinking this would be an easy peasy task, I go to the kitchen table where the laptop is. I notice he has brought me 2020s forms.

Me: “These aren’t last year’s forms.”

Dad: “Those are the forms I need. Last year I filed the long form. I don’t want the long form.”

I immediately found the federal 1040-SR short form. I bookmarked it so I could go back to it when I had everything needed to print them. I can’t find the short form he needs for the state, which was 1040P. After 30 minutes I’m getting aggravated because I still can’t find the short form, only the long. I thought I found it but it was for the wrong year – and come to find out, that ‘P‘ form had been discontinued. That was why he had to file the long form last year. Now I find the 1040 long form. 50 pages it was not!  I told him that according to what I was reading in the instruction booklet (another half an hour wasted) he needed the Pension Credit form and the Property Tax Credit form.

Dad: “I don’t need those. I never file them.”

Me: “Why not?”

Dad: “I don’t owe them anything so I don’t worry about it.”

Me: “You may not owe them anything but maybe they would owe you.”

Dad: “I’m not going to mess with it.”

Me: I roll my eyes and bookmark the long file.

Now, you’d think printing the files would be easier than trying to find them, right? Nope. I thought I had the printer on my laptop already because months ago, my desktop pc took a dump. I figured I’d need the printer on the laptop eventually, so I hooked it up. The laptop told me printer ready to print or something to that effect. I didn’t have anything to print then but I thought it would be ready when I needed it. I thought wrong. When I went to print the forms, the printer wasn’t communicating with the laptop. Crapola. So, I dug out the disk to install the printer. That should have been easy, too. Nope. I was ready to throw the damn printer out the window and be done with it. It kept telling me that the printer needed to be connected to the laptop via USB and turned on. Grrr…. I unplugged both and plugged them back in. I clicked continue. It just didn’t want to crapperate, as my son used to say when he was a kid. I tried numerous times. I even started the installation process again…and again. My entire afternoon was wasted on this activity that should have taken 30 minutes tops.

Me: “Dad, you’re going to have to go to the library to get your forms.” (I explained the trouble I was having.)

Dad: “I’ll have to have H&R Block do them because the library isn’t open.”

Me: “Well, I know the library isn’t open right now but next time we go to town we can stop by.”

Dad: “The library hasn’t been open since everything was shut down for Covid.”

Me: “Things haven’t been closed down for quite some time, Dad.”

Dad: “The last time we stopped by there, they were closed.”

Me: “I can’t even remember the last time we went by there. It had to have been before Covid or maybe in the beginning of Covid.”

Dad: “I’m telling you it’s still closed.”

Me: Rolling my eyes now. Grrr… I can’t seem to tell him anything so I drop it. I say, “Well, regardless. I still can’t print the forms. You’ll have to get them somewhere else.”

So, after 3 hours of messing with this situation, I decide I need to de-stress because I’m ready to pull out my hair at this point. Anyway, I sit down at the kitchen table and get my diamond painting kit. I turn on my current audiobook and start to work. 5 minutes later:

Dad: “I need a book on a shelf in the cat room but I’m afraid to get up on the chair without someone there to help steady me.”

Me: “Ok.” I turn off my audiobook and get up.

We go into the cat room to get his books. The only reason any books are in there is because Dad’s bedroom had to be vacated due to mold. We moved everything out, including him. So, I get behind him and steady him while he gets up on the chair. I would have done it myself if I didn’t have mobility issues. There’s an old dresser right under the shelf where I keep food and water for BobCat, because he needs safe place to eat where he won’t get beat up by Jack. Anyway, I move the food bowl to the left so Dad wouldn’t spill it. I knew he would need room to put a couple of books so he could get to the ones he wanted. What does he do? He spills the damn bowl of food anyway. All of a sudden cat food went flying into the air and went everywhere.

Me: “Damn it, Dad. I moved that bowl over so you wouldn’t spill it.”

Dad: “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

Me: “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” Now Jack and BobCat are eating food off the floor and under our feet. Ugh. I carefully steady Dad as he steps off the chair. “Now go sit down with your books and relax a bit.”

Dad: “Sorry you have a mess to clean up now.”

Me: “It’s ok. Jack and BobCat will help.” I do my best to pick up cat food that scattered everywhere and I leave it until the next cleaning. The least I can do is leave a little food for the mice.

It was getting close to 7pm and I had been on the Road of Aggravation since 2pm! Now I was able to de-stress and have a little bite to eat. Dad made himself a pb&j sandwich and we both sat down to relax, finally.

Confusion

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This morning I woke up around 7:30am. It was cold in the house because we turn the heat off at night and the low overnight was supposed to be around 18 degrees. It was a bit “nipply” as Dad says. He turned on the heater and we had coffee while we watched the news.

Two hours later, I was still cold. I put my hoody on and covered my legs with a blanket. We aren’t ‘breakfast people’ so I thought I’d be different and asked Dad if he wanted me to make breakfast. He said, “No, thanks. I can’t eat on an empty stomach.” I laughed and tried to occupy myself on the laptop. After a couple more hours, I was feeling chilled to the bone. I just couldn’t warm up.

It was 11:45am already; nearly lunchtime. I gave in and turned on my heated blanket and snuggled up underneath. I didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep. I woke up at 1:15pm in a panic. I said, “Shit, it’s almost 1:30 and I have to be at that thing. I’ll never make it in time!” Dad looked at me funny and asked, “What thing?” “That thing they canceled yesterday. I was still supposed to be there today,” I told him. He was still confused and asked, “What thing? If you were supposed to be somewhere today, I didn’t know anything about it.” I hid my aggravation and tried to recall details. “Oh, that thing…” I rubbed my forehead trying to remember. Then I looked up at him and asked, “Am I confused?!” He asked, “Do you know what day it is?” I said, “It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” I got up to go to the bathroom.

All the way there I tried to remember details about the thing I was supposed to go to. By the time I got to the bathroom, I realized I was confused. I must’ve been dreaming, but the dream I was having prior to waking up had nothing to do with the thing I was supposed to go to! Of course, now I can’t remember what I was dreaming!

I’ve woken up confused before. I’ve woken up not sure if I was waking from a nap or after a good night’s sleep. I’ve woken up thinking I’m going to miss the bus or that I forgot my locker combination, but it has never taken so long to realize I was dreaming! I feel like I’m losing my mind!

I’ll never live it down; Dad will tease me about it for a long time and I’ll probably regret writing about it…BUT if you can’t laugh at yourself then who can you laugh at? Unga Bunga.

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Hey, Alyssa!

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From my room, I heard Dad talking to someone. I thought maybe my son had come by and I didn’t hear the door, but Dad’s voice was the only one I heard. Maybe he’s talking to one of the cats, I thought. It sounded like he was getting a bit irritated, though so I figured I’d best go investigate.

I’m in the kitchen now, stopped in my tracks because of what I am witnessing. Here’s how it went.

“Alyssa, turn off that alarm.”

“Dammit, Alyssa! Stop it!”

“Goddam….expletive, expletive!”

“Hey, Alyssa! STOP!”

I walked into the living room and said, “Alexa, stop.” The alarm stopped. Dad looked puzzled at first and then said as he laughed, “I was calling it Alyssa!” I said, “I know, Dad. It’s ok.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I left the room. He doesn’t know I heard him from the kitchen.

We’ve only had the Echo Dot since Christmas Eve; a gift from my son and daughter-in-law. I’m still getting the hang of things too, but I think Dad is going to need a little extra time.

 

 

Crossed Wires

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The other night, Dad and I were outside walking towards the house. I heard him say something and turned to ask him what he said. He repeated it.

“Do you want me to scrape the house for the pancakes?” He asked.

“What?” I replied because I didn’t understand what he just said.

He repeated himself with more emphasis. “Do you want me to scrape the house for the pancakes?”

Again, I replied but with a little unbelief in my voice, “WHAT? Dad that doesn’t make any sense.”

He was getting angry now. “Oh, Goddammit,” he said with a raised voice.

“Sorry, Dad. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” I replied. I was thinking our wires must be crossed, as they say.

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He repeated the same thing again, except this time he used hand motions to convey his message. “Do you want me to scrape (hands motioning like a window cleaner cleaning a window with a squeegee) the house for the pancakes (motioning his hands as if he was bouncing a ball)?

Now I was thinking does he have full-blown Alzheimer’s or is it me? Do I have dementia? Good grief!

About that time I woke up and thought to myself, thank the heavens it was just a dream!