Communication

Yesterday morning dh was trying to get dressed; I'd laid his clothes out on the bed as usual. I walked into the room and he was rummaging about -- clearly distraught and looking for something.
"Can I help?"
"I can't find, I can't find ... my ... dirty things."
"Huh?"
"You know! My dirty things."
I'm not sure how I figured this one out, but he was looking for his underwear and let me assure all of us that it was clean :)

The day before he got a bit upset with me because I was giving him way too many oranges. "I mean, I'm only supposed to eat ONE!" He held one slice of orange in his hand and emphasized his point with it. Of course, he was considering each slice of one small clementine an entire orange.
Language can be so sticky!

A new caregiver

This morning as I was trying to help Bob get his socks on, Mickey Mouse socks no less, his toenails were too long and I snagged one, hurt him, and he yelped like a bear in pain.
What annoys me at these times is that his reaction is always as if I intentionally hurt him. Then he needs long lectures (which I can NOT interrupt) to explain what happened, as if I didn't know.
Today in his annoyance with my complete withdrawal, he asked me totally calmly, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but wouldn't you be happier if we found someone else to take care of me and you went on your way?"
Could we have bets on my reply? Actually, I asked him who he would suggest.
He's currently sitting there; I suspect he's considering an answer.
This isn't just for laughs.

Is the (clock) radio on?

Yesterday when Bob woke up at 2:34 a.m. and asked if I wanted him to turn the coffee on, I was reminded that I'd not blogged about the coffee and radio saga.

Six days out of seven I am awakened by my clock radio playing music at 5:40 a.m. This is the point when my DH generally goes to the kitchen and flips the switch on the ready-to-go coffee pot. He enjoys being able to do that for us and I love the coffee in bed service. Several weeks ago he came to the bedroom door about 3:30 in the morning and sweetly asked the sleeping me, "Ready for your coffee?"
I did not respond nicely: "We don't officially get up until the radio comes on."
He replied, "The radio is on!"

He had turned on the radio in the kitchen! When I listened carefully, I could hear it playing.

You're always the boss!

We’re sitting watching the BBC news and sipping coffee when Bob says, “Here feel here.” He wants me to feel the beard growth on his neck just under the chin line. I do.
Then I’m asked to feel the other side. Again I do. Now he’s off on a tour of his face. I balk. “Why do you want me to do this?” “Just do it.”

(Is this a secret commercial?) Why do I have to feel his face where he doesn’t have a cute Elvis sideburn? “Because! I never get anything! Feel that beard!”
I do. His response: “Was that so hard? I never get anything. You get it all because you’re always the boss!” Explanation? None.

I’m still looking for the humor in this one.

Today's Question

"What are these for? They look totally clean and ready to wear." He stands at the bottom of the stairs holding two hangers with shirts.
"What?" me; I'm a little slow first thing on a Monday.
"What are these for? They were in the laundry room." He looks genuinely puzzled. Ah the confusing life of AzD. Just clean shirts that hadn't made it up to the bedroom closet but they become a puzzle.
I get it finally. I explain ... clean shirts for his closet.
"Oh, where do you want them?"

Speaking of pills

Failure to see/ to recognize is an ongoing problem for the guy with AzD. This morning as I was working here at the computer, Bob came walking in, perplexed, "What is this little thing that was in my pill case?" (I'd already opened the lid on Thursday for him.) I looked at the "small hard white thing" as he described it.
Want to guess?
It was, of all things, a pill!!
Merry, merry!

Changes and stuff

You know, if you don't laugh you are indeed doomed. This morning went well with only small problems like Bob having two different colors of shoes on (although exactly the same kind of shoe:) and his shirt on backwards, a daily occurrence.
When I decided to begin recording these small descents into hell, I thought of all the tiny details of my daughters' lives which I am sure I've lost over time. We recorded their voices because a friend said, you think you'll remember but you won't. He was right and now I have those darling angel voices on tape. What of all this current journey will I certainly forget? And actually the question is which events will I want to remember.
Thinking back over changes I was remembering the sequence of inability to handle his own pills. He's gone over the course of maybe 15 months from being able to fill his own 7-day pill case, to not being able to figure out what goes where for when, to being able to count (Sunday / Monday / Tuesday...) and find the right day's potions after I tell him what day it is, to needing me to open the right lid so that we are sure he gets his pills.
So many changes. You just have to be water not rock.
Ciao!