The shakes  are getting worse with each moment. They last longer than they used to. We haven't whittled it down to anything. There has been four generations of Parkinson's and I also worked at the company Scotts which has been linked to the  disease.   

 The shaking has affected my typing which is another one of those ironies. I used to type faster than anyone. I used to type over a hundred words a minutes. It really pissed the woman secretaries off alot. Of course I'm crazy so no matter how times I did something spectacular I was always doing something equally destructive. It is a raging sign of the  bipolar disorder.  It's I'm fucking crazy and here is some more proof. Should help my art sales. Here is Gunnar not only is he the crazy one he is also in a nursing home with his mother. Sixty one years old with blown kidneys, a number of other  physical ailments. Got this S droppings when I type now and playing the guitar has become impossible.  I'm trying to learn keyboards and having problems getting the hang of it all.  

Jesus What have you done? You have created a beautifully cruel perfection here in this home of dynamic torture. We are given a soft  bed to sleep  in and three square meals. There are angels and their helpers giving out spills and concoctions. Baths and repair and all this cost us is everything we were worth except for a penance allowed monthly and no transportation to spend this. They created games and duties to do to lull us into thinking we are special and important.  

The afternoon was controlled by my four year old grandson. For the first time in my life I found myself pleading with my mother to join us in a late celebration of my birthday. More importantly spend the time with her great grandson and granddaughter. For fuck sake maybe make up for the times that she wasn't there because she had to do whatever the hell my asshat father wanted and he wanted nothing to do with me and my family.  

Me and My daughter work together to achieve ah who am I kidding my daughter has achieved a divorced father and daughter relationship that is loving and endearing. No matter how hard I try I just feel like a raving idiot  

Whenever I have company coming over I am a nervous wreck. I was more of a wreck than usual because the meeting of Nathan and his boys or just his boys and my daughter's visiting were appearing to show up at the same time. Tuck and Chuckles show up when I was visiting mom which is just me rolling around from room 206 to room 411 for me. Tuck and Chuckles and myself go back to my room and I am talking to them and texting my daughter who was talking to the Bob Evans getting our order together. my head was spinning.  

I was running back and forth between both rooms, talking to the gang that is in the middle and dealing with mother who finally came around to going with me and who heard me say to her for the time, thank you. What a hard head.    

It turned out to be a beautiful afternoonWe watched Wyeth wear out the adults He's all boy and more 

Such are those moments that we wake up too that are what we call memories. I just woke up to a memory of Wyeth and I playing bubbles. Every single time he comes to visit he remembers that we play bubbles which is where I blow bubbles and he tries to catch them. Such simplicity to the memory, such beauty and art. 

I think about death a lot more these days. While reading through the Huffington Post daily stories there is always one about someone in their sixties suddenly dying. I wish I knew more about what is after. IT would be nice to to have a clear vision of what is really out there after this little ride through a vast and conscious life. What really is the connection to the all? 

I just took mom a bologna sandwich and some chips. She had a sloppy Joe in front of her also. I figured I would let her choose. As I wheeled by the gang we started talking about the one doctor that came to see us all each month and how disliked he was. The man came in almost waving like he was some movie star. The year I have been here I've talked to him once. Now the nurse practitioner that comes in my room and actually meets with me is a jewel. She actually visits and finds out what our needs may be. 

Nursing home days are slow and manufactured events don't change it that much. My mother has settled in quite nicely by making friends and learning how to sleep through the rest of the day. Me I'm still anxious and still trying to adjust. Every time I get settled something changes. 

What can I say.  I'n tired of sitting. My ass hurts. I would love to stand up and walk away from this whole event but that is not going to happen. 



Views: 66

Comment by Zanelle on February 9, 2016 at 6:15pm

Excellent writing and Art! Thank you!   You are special and chasing bubbles is important.  The staff there is probably getting all geared up for Valentines day....I remember some fun activities I planned.  Smile!

Comment by Arthur James on February 9, 2016 at 6:31pm


It sad...

Rewarding too

to Visit

Nursing Homes.


I miss feeding a

Elder Woman in

a baby-like high

chair. Memory



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