LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Pardon me for just a moment. I’m screaming in despair at the top of my lungs and find it hard to type as I do so.

~~ OK. I’m done for now.

~~ No one likes attending a funeral — it’s something you do out of love, respect, or obligation. Even so, paying your respects to the departed shouldn’t be done in dirty pants. Yet that’s what living in Dementia-ville made me do. My black pants were dirty, and I had two hours before I had to leave, so I walked to the washing machine, only to find it turning and turning with clothes that were not mine. Seems the aide, who has been repeatedly cautioned to ask if she needs the machine any day but Monday, decided on her own that Wednesday was a fine day to do her laundry. And what’s the big deal, she wondered — the machine wasn’t being used when she put her wash in!

~~ I believe I told you this aide is afraid of our seven-pound-dog. Instead of trying my suggestions for becoming friends with the little scaredy-yakker, the aide made matters worse. How? When she came out of Dementia-ville, she tried to block the dog from getting to her with a bed headboard. (Yes, you read that right — she used the upside down headboard as a shield.) Over the top of said headboard, she called to the dog loudly, using her name again and again and cackling. Of course the dog went crazy!
~~ That aide is now departed, replaced by an incessant gabber. Although most of what she says is indecipherable, it seems she’s very agitated at someone who put a hole in her shoe (or her wall, I’m truly not sure). I’ve listened to the size of the hole get larger and grow more expensive all afternoon as she gripes to person after person on her bullhorn cellphone. I’d say by the end of the day the hole was at least Grand Canyon size and cost twice what Elon Musk makes per hour.

~~ A friend also has a relative with dementia, but she has the luxury of having a remote Dementia-ville. When she recently visited, she heard her relative’s name being said — loudly — quite a few times as she walked down the hall. “[Name] put down those balls. [Name] put down those balls NOW” went the commands. My friend turned into the rec room to find her relative had reached into the wire basket holding bingo balls and freed them from game servitude. The staff was antsy and the geriatric players were about to riot when my friend tried to intervene. Her relative wasn’t finished, though, vociferously announcing that she would not be deterred or distracted until she had ripped apart those with “shit for brains” who wanted to deprive her of her ball bounty.

~~ I also was told the charming and simultaneously alarming tale of a spouse with dementia who was reminded that she was celebrating the 60th anniversary of her marriage. “To the SAME MAN?” she asked incredulously.

~~ Overheard one side of this cellphone conversation: “Sure, sure, I can do that…. No, not right now… yes, I know I said I would do it, but I’m in a parking lot at least 20 miles from you… yes, I really will do it, but just not now… Jesus Christ, why don’t you ever trust me?”

~~ I wanted to walk out in solidarity today, but I am working alone. I’m not sure what point I can make when no one knows where I am or what I’m doing. I’ll be cyber-cohesive but hope you’re walking or otherwise protesting today. Too many lives have been sacrificed at the altar of self-interest and profit since Columbine.

~~ I sometimes find it hard to believe we’re sliding so hard and so fast towards destruction and decimation of our Constitution, our freedom, our rights, and our sanity. But as the saying goes, Elect a Clown, Expect a Circus.

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