Start Your Engines

We are on the move again. For about two weeks now, Gregory has not been able to smoothly begin his morning routines. As you know, I am not my best in the morning so this has been difficult for me.

From now on, I think we are at the point that I need to "walk" him through the morning activities: take off your sleep clothes, turn on the heat, set up your shaver, shave, clean and put your shaver away, put on your underclothes, put on your sweats, begin your day. By accepting this responsibility (which I really don't want to do and probably resent) I will make his and my life easier. Let me explain the "less than saintly" way I handled it this morning.

This morning when I suggested that it was time to begin the day, he got out of bed and hung around the bed lifting and lowering his sleep shirt with an inquisitive look on his face. "Go in the bathroom and shave," I prompted. I think he wakes up and is disoriented about where he is, who he is, and what he should be doing.

I must have drifted back to sleep, which I sometimes do while he is shaving, because next thing I knew, he came to me for help. He had gotten out of his sleep clothes, had not begun shaving, and was trying to get his sweat shirt on starting with putting his arms into the sleeves from the outside. Can you picture this? I won't bother even trying to describe, just believe me.

I helped him off with the shirt and asked, "Do you NOT know how to begin the day?" Fatal mistake on my part number one, when will I learn? He couldn't answer and became frustrated instead. When will I learn? I think I would do OK if he could say, "No Michael I do not know how to do this today." Then I would help but instead he closes down and I fume. Why was I waiting for an answer and why did I think he would be able to communicate with me?

By now I am just short of raging. But I control myself. So what do I do? Did I mention that I am not good in the morning? I made him get back into his sleep clothes, get back into bed, and we started over from the beginning. I never did say I was perfect! He probably had no idea what I was doing but it kept me under control so it must have been good.

I walked him through the beginning of the morning activities, probably not in the nicest tone of voice, did I say I am not good in the morning?

As we went through each step he behaved as though he knew what he was doing from the beginning leaving me numb and wondering what I had just spent my last half hour doing. For some reason when I trigger the memory he thinks he has always been acting on that memory and for some reason that makes me angrier then having had to help him through it in the first place.

You see I am still normal but he is the new normal and most often I find it hard to live in his crazy world. I use the word crazy loosely if only because Gregory is NOT crazy, but sometimes I think I am when I am trying to operate in his world.

An Apology

I apologize for being impatient.
I apologize for loosing my temper.
I apologize for raging at you.
I apologize for being violent with you.
(Read less than kind. Read abrupt.)
I apologize for saying unkind things.
I apologize for being mean.

I love you, never doubt that.
And I know that you love me.
I just don't love myself right now.

I took a vow of silence yesterday and for a day or two. This may seem like being melodramatic but if I am going to cope with Gregory's continued decline, especially his current digestive illness, I need to get a grip on myself and be the kind, loving, gentle caregiver partner that I know I am.

I used the above apology and explained that I would be here for him, to help him, to love him, but that I was going to take a vow of silence because that would prevent me from getting upset and therefore upsetting him.

If I can't show or demonstrate it, I will do what he needs done. This will help me avoid having to use words. I will not need to apologize for the above listed reactions that I have been working at controlling.

Just now he brought me his glass of water, ready to take his pills. "Is this enough?" he asked referring to how much water was in the glass. Bringing him with me, I took the glass into the kitchen, filled it with more water, said not a word. He headed back to the bedroom. I tapped him, gestured at the now full glass of water and he got the picture. Success. This time.

With my vow of silence, I have been more aware of talking to myself in my head. Perhaps this will lessen the time between the triggering of an emotion and my reaction.

Why?

You are not invited to answer this. Most people do not comment anyway and this time you are off the hook. This is a rhetorical blog.

The question is why am I so angry? Why do I loose my temper? Why am I at times close to raging?

Why can't I just be accepting? Why can't I just be patient? Why can't I just be calm?

Every night G reads three words he asked me to post on his night table: SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, COMPASSION. G is and has all three. Why can't I master that?

I am forgiving and so is he!

Rage

RAGE: A Poem

I rage.
Over what?
The inability to cope,
With his disease.

He doesn't.
Over what?
The inability.
The inability.

An almost smashed cabinet door.
An almost smashed coffee cup.
At least inanimate objects.
At least almost.

They say when at the bottom,
Lessons can be learned.
Is rage the bottom?
When will I learn?



FLASH POETRY VERSION (10 words:)

I rage
He doesn't
I rage
He forgives
He forgives.