Morning And Midday Musings

Entry 1     6:53 a.m.

Another day. Today's top priority, get a picture of Abby's car to Service King, get Leiney out of the house, and ignore Jenny's latest acts of infidelity. 

I spent a good deal of time last night licking my wounds. My life is one endless and boring highlight reel from the worst Olympic event ever, curling, without the slacks and brooms.

Entry 2.    7:43 a.m.

Been up since just after 6. Finally put the pot on to brew. Just can't pull it together this morning. I took Jenny some juice and meds a few minutes ago, otherwise I hadn't moved since I came downstairs.  I'm so tired, I didn't let the dogs out until 730, well south of the 6 a.m. crate opening ritual. I am in the dining room, sitting in a chair after feeding the dogs, Buddy whining at my feet, confused as to why he is not right now in my lap for a morning snuggle. 

Leiney is in a dark place. It's hard to see. I am working with her on it. She is leaving school, the uncertainty of when and the certainty that her mother will die just too much to handle. Jenny's reaction to the withdrawal is to be personally offended. She says she worked so hard to get Leiney here. She argued with her when she told her. 

Better days

This decision was not half-baked. Leiney spoke with her college counselor, with her therapist, and then wrestled with it. I told her I support whatever decision she makes. What else could I say, given the circumstances? Forcing her to continue when she isn't functioning makes little sense. Coupled with my discovery, after careful questioning, that Leiney has not been taking her antidepressants for at least two weeks, I think leaving is a wise choice. It is so hard to live even an hour away, when your mother is dying. I am worried about structure, however. As such, I am trying to build structure into her day to replace what she is giving up.

When I tore into Heather yesterday, it was in the kitchen. Kim was three feet from Heather sitting at the bar as Heather was making Jenny peppermint tea. This morning I apologized to Kim for my conversation with Heather in front of her yesterday. It was a window of opportunity that spurred my ranting at Heather--Jenny was in the bathroom and I needed to have the conversation then. I needed to state my piece. Also, it feels like a fucking boarding house at this moment here, so I have little opportunity to have time alone, never mind having a private conversation.

Entry 3.    9:10 a.m.

I just helped Jenny get up. I asked her her plans for the day.  She told me she'd like to get around Greenlake today-preumably with her walker.  Red flag. She can barely walk from the couch to the kitchen, six feet, without exhaustion. I suggested she take Leiney with her, because, you know she is her daughter who is distraught she is dying, and isn't in school or working right now.  She hesitates. Her brain was squirming. Finally she offers, "I can't spend time with her until we resolve this school thing." I respond that is ridiculous, she is home and wants to spend time with you other than cuddling on the couch--generally cuddling bappens when Jenny is spent from her day's social calendar fulfillment, or in the morning, prior to her leaving to go to her social engagements.  

An important editorial note. Some years ago I was the Director of Seattle Public Schools Labor Relations. During that time, I negotiated the collective bargaining agreement that gave teachers collaboration time on Wednesdays. That still is in effect. Kids get early release--70 minutes early. Some teachers collaborate. Some have affairs.  Jenny, meet Eric.

I asked Jenny if Moni was coming over to fix dinner tonight. I thought it was true, but plans change frequently. So, I asked. Jenny's response.  Yes, Moni is coming to make dinner.  Our niece Megan is coming as well, because, according to Jenny, "that Caringbridge posting you did last week." I said, "She isn't coming because of my post, but because we were all very worried about you last week." She has it in her mind she wasn't sick, and people were fooled by me.  She is angry at me. It makes all of this so much more lovely.

Laundry finished.

Dogs fed, watered and toileted.

Kitchen cleaned, dishwasher emptied.

Jenny dressed and meds administered.

Laundry ready for folding.

It is a glam life I lead.

Entry 4  12:15 p.m.

Encouraging Jenny to take Leiney with her forced her to change her plans. She is now with Murray heading toward Wallingford, ostensibly to return the travel wheelchair to the medical equipment place. More on that in a bit.

We are getting a wheelchair delivered by Apria today, a standard wheel chair. Jenny insisted on one because she wants to wheel herself. Meanwhile, she was crawling around on all fours upstairs to conserve energy and to not obligate anyone to stand by her as she walked to prevent a fall as recommended by the PT. Jenny will never have energy sufficient to wheel herself more than a few yards. The good news about the change of plans is, of course, now Leiney doesn't have to interfere with Eric. Literally two minutes after Murray backed out of the driveway with Jenny, her location app went dead. Weirdly, it worked just fine last night when she went to Serafina and back. So, the math is done. Nothing will stand between love and desire.

Jenny crawled to me in the office and told me her plan. She then said she had invited Leiney to go walk with them on their return, in a local park.  Leiney responded, "I don't know, we'll see." Jenny crawling away at this point shouts down the hall, "I tried Geoff."  Leiney has to wonder what that is about. Also, it always feel great feeling like your mom did something obligatory rather than out of--well, I don't know--love.  .  .

Entry 5      2:06 p.m.

If this was a Hollywood movie, it would get a rotten tomato for predictability and cliché:

How many "Bellevue Medical Equipment" stores are there on Stone Way in Wallingford? And there are two. Also, even if she did go to the wrong one, they left at 1207. 20-25 minutes to Wallingford. Let's say they got there at 12:35. It took an hour and 10 minutes to return a wheelchair. I mean, it beggars credulity.

Gaslighting. It does something to the brain of the person being gaslight. You have to unpack every instance of being lied to, to question everything about the reality constructed between the gaslighted and the gaslit. It has shaken my confidence in reality.