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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ I’ll start this week’s blog by updating escapades in Dementia-ville.
Lady Chatterley still resides among us as I write this although the agency has indicated her moments are numbered. Stay tuned.

~~ The dementia patient squealed something high-pitched and very plaintive, so in I went. Lady C. is playing to her strength (i.e. talking on the phone) so I ask, “What’s up?” With steely eyes and a wicked grin, the patient roars, I’ll kick your ass! Good luck with that — your legs are enfeebled and your balance is nonexistent. However, threaten me as much as you like if it makes you feel in control.

~~ The sounds of swearing moderated, but the moment couldn’t be fully savored. Almost immediately, the smell swelled and crashed upon the shore (AKA my nostrils). If I had to describe rather than run screaming from the aroma, I’d say the overall bouquet was railroad restroom with a hint of meatloaf and a whiff of long-dead marine creature.

~~ Lady C. is at the washing machine and I need to pass her to let the dogs outside. She doesn’t tuck in to create space, so I attribute it to her not facing in my direction. “Excuse me!” I say. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi. “Ahem, excuse me!” Five-Mississippi, six-Mississippi… just as we’re rounding towards seven, she turns around. The dull look is her eyes sparks a bit and she says, “You want to pass?” I respond that of course I do, and wonder if the earbuds embedded in her eardrums prevent her from hearing the patient. “Oh, no, no, no.” So just me, then?

~~ The emotions in Dementia-ville are more numerous than the smells and the irritations. It’s heartrending to see a person in this condition, unable to enjoy any known quality of life and certainly powerless to make choices. It’s hard to hear dreadful screams and cries because you’re never certain whether they are unhappy ruminations or random noises from a misfiring brain. It’s wearying to have one person with diminished function be the locus of family life for almost one year. And counting.

~~ Overheard: I can’t believe she said she was sick 15 minutes before our reservation. She didn’t know she was sick three hours earlier?

~~ I heard on NPR that there’s such a thing as a “book camp.” An actual camp for young people who love to read! How I wish that had existed when I was young, because maybe I could have gone to book camp instead of Camp Let’s Make Baskets, Lanyards, and Stuff with Popsicle Sticks. I would have been in my element at book camp!

~~ There are actually voters as well as elected representatives scolding anti-tRump protestors for being “mean,” “undignified,” “indecorous,” and/or “rude.” So it’s OK to break apart families, work on denying health care, shame people for their gender identity, discriminate based on religion, make groups of people feel second-rate, but it’s not OK to be loud and wear a freaking pink pussy hat?

~~ By the way, the right’s assault on bathrooms is no more about restrooms than racial discrimination was about water fountains. The haters don’t want anyone but themselves to exist in their own realm.

~~ I was at a Not My President Day rally, and had to listen to a jackass with a bullhorn scream at protestors that we weren’t patriots. Go tell that to Lady Liberty, Bud, ‘cause I ain’t listening. I’m too busy trying to save freedom of speech, religion, privacy, and a whole lot of AMERICAN VALUES.

~~ Next to the bullhorn guy was a 2017 Nazi. Holding up an SS sign and yelling about arm tattoos. Screw dignity.

Have a good weekend! Baseball starts on the radio today — yay!



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