I have failed to keep my temper. I have failed to understand the disease Jack has and what part is him and what part is Parkinsons or Dementia. I have failed to treat him tenderly in the face of what reminds me of abuse.
I have busied myself with the outside stuff. the management of living and keeping him clean, fed and providing some entertainment and activities. I have failed to tell others of the battle inside me. When I am able to say something I think I have to have a solution. A way to start again. A leg up. A plan.
I got nothing. I can talk to myself .til I believe I might get it. I pray and ask for help but somehow am avoiding God despite my admission of my total dependency. I am failing daily and my heart is wounded. Maybe it is an old wound that has never healed. My anger may be old anger that I have pronounced neutralized but this is rising it up into my throat. Suzanne calls me from the other room if she hears my anger. LYNDA! I am in check and begin again.
Jack is clinging to me tightly. He is obsessed with where I am and can I hear him when he calls. He doesn't want me to stay mad. He antagonizes me one minute and begs forgiveness in some wierd way that doesn't really sound like an apology. He sees my frustration as the enemy and blames his mother for not telling him he would get this disease. I explain and I direct and I talk loud so he can hear and I touch him to help direct and he rebels and say he knows and does it his way. I tell him his mother didn't know. He doesn't believe me.
He awakens often to see where I am after he has fallen and the struggle has been great to get him to hear me and try what I suggest. He feels guilty and bad because I try to tell him to go slower and listen to my helps.
He doesn't understand why the kids don't come or call or take him and care for him. He doesn't understand why Eliana doesn't love him and smile at him or give him attention. He wants to see Evie and maybe thinks she will like him a little.
I don't understand why I have leprosy now to most of my friends. They stay away. They are distant and I resent their absence and their silence. I vacillate from making excuses for them as they have lives and their own problems. I cannot leave him. Not long enough to run to Petersons or go to Kwik Trip for bananas. I barely can get the mail or go to the laundry room for a load. I hear the walker and I am nervous. Will he fall? Will he have an accident? What is he doing? Run quick and see. I run. I ask. I watch.
He needs to get stronger for us to keep him safe. He sits a lot. I stay busy with other things. He hates taking direction from me. He dislikes exercise. I let it slide. When he does decide to walk he gets too far from the walker and he is so likely to fall and then he falls. I cannot get him up from the floor alone. I am not able to lift him, he is heavy and resistant due to the Parkinsons symptoms.
I do not know how to be me in this situation. I am a take charge, get it done if we can person. No, I do not have a plan for tomorrow. It will come and take it's own shape. All my plans seem to fall short of success. Struck down by a disease and a man that is lamenting the disease and hating the next step, as am I. He says it when I say I don't know what more I can do. "Just find a place for me Lynda. " It makes me sad, but I wonder how long I can go until I must.
I reach for my Bible at last and find some comfort in that God knows and I don't.