My mother is no longer here.  She never completely returns. She is instead at a movie theater on the west side or at uncle Melvins farm that is on the west side also. 

She finds herself at places before her marriage and her children or finds herself at places when her boys were still  young enough to not be getting in real trouble like  with drugs or getting caught with a woman who is pregnant. 

I got drunk before I told my parents that my girlfriend was pregnant. My younger brother decided to get drunk and tell my mother and father that his girlfriend was pregnant. He decided to tell the this right after I had told them. He didn't plan this it just worked out that way. My mother was fine to hear that I was going to have a wife and child at the age of seventeen with a place to live with Maggie's mother. She was however not ok hearing an hour later that her sixteen year old second son was with a pregnant wife to be and really had nowhere  to go. My mother spent the next three days in the basement smoking. 

These are the times and period of times that my mother does not recall. 

Probably just as well... 

I finally get home from dialysis and wheel through the common area when I hear two of the nurses talking about my mother. Apparently she had been a problem this morning. I figured I might as well go and see how she was. 

She was completely out of her mind. As soon as she saw me and I saw the look on her face it was obvious she didn't have a clue. She exclaimed, "How did you get here?"  I ask where here was and she said London Hospital which I would guess the last time any of us including mom had to deal with London Hospital was when one of the kids were sick. 

I became immediately upset with the situation. I tried to say to her as patently as possible that we were in Lima, Ohio and  the place we were at was Lost Creek nursing home. She told me to get my head out the clouds and listen to her. 

That for some reason just infuriated me and I started yelling that she was in Lima, Ohio at the nursing home Lost Creek. I finally threw my hands in the air and told her I was leaving. This obviously upset her terribly and she got teary eyed and told me that she didn't get upset when I told her she was wrong. I settled down and apologized for things that didn't even pertain to the current situation. I just wanted it all to be ok. 

How do you deal with a situation where the reality that one person is thought of as not as real as the other and which one is real. My mother packed a bag and went to London Ohio for something, some reason. I logically knew that in the time that had passed when I met back up with her she hadn't gotten any farther than packing a bag. 

My brother Nathan ask me the other day on text what was I doing and I said Well I'm having a nervous breakdown. He texted back to me, Well it's about time. I understood his response completely. 

My next text was, "Mom was absolutely right, I drank all of the diet Pepsi" 

My brother's response was, "That's 24 in 4 days. You gonna die." 

I responded, "Mom drank her share but I drank more." 

I participated in making crafts today. Made a rock boy standing on the bank throwing a rock into the water showing the ripples of the stream. It was a simplistic view and nobody got it which is the essence of my art. Nobody gets it. The activities director found an I-station of music and we glued shit to a whiteboard and sang to Patsy Cline and Roy Orbison. I felt like I had been transported to a different universe. We were in a gentle hell. It was hell but it was not completely a place of pain. 

I had that feeling of being transported to another universe a lot lately. I wasn't sure which was real anymore. I wasn't sure of how I had spent my first sixty years of life anymore. I had fears that it was almost over  this plane and I was about to be transported again. 

As I write each chapter of the collection of stories for the blog book I try to make sure each one is five pages long or at least going onto five pages. Recently I figured out that it was ridiculous trying to fill space with words and instead let the flow of thought take up what space it needed and leave it at that. So be it... 

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Comment by Zanelle on February 25, 2016 at 5:31pm

So be it.  Your mother is now the kind of patient I loved.  Void of that reality stuff that weighs the rest of us down.  Sounds like that activity director has some good ideas.  That was me.  The staff wants you to be ok.  Safety first is what I learned.  So play with your mom, don't yell at her for any reason.  Hugs and kindness rule.  Your art is fantastic.  You have a book here.

Comment by nerd cred on February 25, 2016 at 5:57pm

I love what Z said - Void of that reality stuff that weighs the rest of us down.

It seems like you react to your  mom much the way my sister reacted to our mother when she was her primary caregiver. (Mom was never as incapacitated as your mother.) My sister felt strongly about reality.

Two weeks or so after mom died, sister landed in the hospital and it's been one thing after another for over two years. She says it's not all due to the stress of the mom years but I'm sure that at least some of it would have been identified earlier without it.

I'm just saying, listen to Zanelle, let your mother be where she has to be, ride with it. You could even maybe learn about your family past since that's all she has left. You won't react like my sister did but stress is still not good for you. And no matter how much you demand reality from her, she just may not have access any more.

The painting is great and I'd love to see a picture of the little rock man.

Comment by Arthur James on February 25, 2016 at 6:16pm


Great off-line read...

I guess I gotta visit ?


Best But's Nerd

Geek Gang nice

Squad and DC's

Nice Tech Folk?








Comment by Jeanne Sathre on February 25, 2016 at 7:37pm

My mom was convinced that Dad lived on the second floor of the nursing home. He had actually died and the nursing home only had one level, but we played along. Sometimes reality isn't the best place to be. 

Comment by Sheila Reep on March 22, 2016 at 9:39am

My dad is is difficult, yet he seems happy.  It is the ones he doesn't remember who get upset.


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