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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ In Dementia-ville, it’s never a good sign if the entire permanent population screams, Pig! Pig! Pig! at the top of her lungs for close to 30 minutes. It’s also not a lot of fun when she disliked a new aide so much she shrieked every time the aide opened her mouth. Although I am not sure if what she was yelling broke down into repeated, No Shit!s or Shit, No!s.

~~ Seems a past aide left behind an opened can of sweetened condensed milk, so the next aide made the patient drink it. And then, the aide put it on the shopping list! When my husband questioned the request, he was told, “Oh, [the prior aide] told me she drinks it all the time.”

~~ “What color do you wash?” the aide asks. I tell her I don’t understand the question. After about six more go-rounds, it turned out she wanted to know if our washing machine — the one she was standing right in front of as we spoke — had a cold setting for dark colors. I thought I then asked a legit question: “Do you read English so you can understand the knobs and buttons on the appliances?” Her answer told me that I had no business asking: “Of course. What do you think, I’m dumb?”

~~ The patient has very long gray hair. I am finding long gray hairs on my clothing often enough that it is driving me batty. Petty, you say? I’d agree, but insanity triggers aren’t buttons we select from a vending machine. We either deal with what suddenly unnerves us, or we step out into a 26-degree afternoon and shriek for approximately 45 seconds.

~~ I heard an NPR report on middle-aged “deaths of despair.” Though I have passed the middle of my life, and opioid addiction isn’t my issue, the rising rates of mortality seem relatable. Why embrace and continue on with a life that has no demonstrable upside? http://wshu.org/post/forces-driving-middle-aged-white-peoples-deaths-despair

~~ I caught myself in an uncomfortable bias this week. A woman in yoga class, directly in my line of sight, kept grabbing her phone and texting throughout class. Grrr! A friend in another class forgot to turn her phone off. It rang and rang, snapping me right out of my relaxed state. She smiled and shrugged towards me, I smiled and shrugged back. They both disturbed me, but one got a pass. You see where I’m going, right?

~~ He put his arm around me conspiratorially and leaned in. “I really like that tee shirt.” I moved away swiftly, grabbed my coat, and said, “Thanks. You could have said that from over there.” Afterwards, walking down the street, I wondered if I over-reacted. Nope — he touched me. Then I wondered if I could have said something snarkier. Yep — I should have said, “My husband likes it, too.” Nope, that’s not right: my marital status has nothing to do with his invasion of my space. By the time I reached my car, I decided that short of a karate chop to the arm, my response was perfect.

~~ I was going to write about politics, but high blood pressure is something I want to avoid — if the thugs in DC get their way, they won’t cover me for that health malady any more than they’ll lower my costs. If you want to see my latest rantings and flaming arrows, click on my Twitter account (you don’t have to be “on Twitter” to see it): https://twitter.com/LitaTweets.  I’ll try to jot down notes during the week so maybe I’ll be less agitated writing next week’s blog. For now, I’ll just say, Прощай.

Dasvidaniya. Have a good weekend.




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