Cussing a Blue Streak

I took grandmama to see granddaddy and daddy today.

Oh what fun we had.

NOT!!

I had a whole lot of clean clothes that needed to be hung up in daddy and granddaddy's closet. I would say about 2 very large trash bags full (they were on hangers though). I managed to get the clothes and grandmama in the wheelchair into the nursing home. We made a stop in daddy's room first. He wasn't there. He was watching the ceiling at the nurses station not too far away from his room. Daddy's room smelled *terrible*. His roommate was about 2 minutes away from being 'changed'. I think I turned slightly blue, holding my breath while hanging up clothes. I didn't get daddy's dirty clothes and empty hangers as I couldn't take the smell anymore. I spoke with his roommate. He was wanting Thanksgiving to hurry up and get here. I asked him if he liked turkey that much. He said no, he likes chitterlings (chitlins' for those of you familiar with them). For those of you who don't know what they are, they are (cleaned) pig intestines, sometimes stuffed and fried or boiled. I've never tasted it and not sure I want to try them.

We rolled down to granddaddy's room. He met us halfway to his room. He was very happy to see us. He hugged us on the way to his room and talked about not seeing us in months. We were just there last week (Thursday). We didn't go back until now because of race week in our area. I can't make it through the traffic without losing my sanity.

As I put up his clean clothes, he talked with grandmama. He always wants to 'negotiate' a way home, even for just a week. He was really giving grandmama a rough time of it, not that he meant to. She knows he doesn't really understand but it's still hard on her. Once I got the clothes put away, I got all of his dirty laundry and proceeded back to daddy's room. It still smelled even though his roommate was changed. That smell just lingers. I managed to get all of daddy's things to take home and got them to the van. I'm hauling 2 trash bags full of dirty, smelly clothes, a laundry bag and a heavy pocketbook. I stopped along the way to the van to talk with nurses and residents. By the time I got back, granddaddy was getting antsy. He wasn't taking no for answer on going home. I gave him my usual talk about how I couldn't take care of him at home and that he always told me to do the best thing I could for him. Well, that just opens up a can of worms. He wants to know why I would have to take care of him. I don't want to mention the adult diapers and feeding tube. That will only serve to upset him more. I don't want to take the chance he will try to pull the tube out. If it comes out, it stays out. It will not go back in or at least that is what the dr told us.

I find a nurse coming toward us and I motion to her that we were trying to leave. She started to distract him by telling him that she needed his help. He didn't fall for it, that's for sure. The last thing I heard from him as I was wheeling grandmama down the hall toward the exit was, "now that was a damn dirty-ass trick!" He had plenty to say before that; it's not fit to type here.

He seems to go through phases. He has times where he doesn't throw a fit when we leave. He then has times where he gets just short of violent about it. I guess we've just come round about to the nasty phase again.

Well, grandmama and I make it to the front door. I have parked right next to the ramp from the porch to the parking lot. I told her to STAY PUT while I unlocked the van and put my pocketbook in. Did she listen???

NOOOOOOO.

I happened to catch a movement out of the corner of my eye. I jumped back from the door, only to stop dead in front of her rolling at a high rate of speed (for a wheelchair). I got her stopped with my face in hers. She had purposely rolled forward, even though I said not to. I know because I saw her jerk her fingers up (I thought she had broken them in the wheels). She didn't deny it. I wasn't sure whether to change underwear or just take myself over to the hospital for the heart attack she had just given me. She told me that her fingers/hands/arms were fine. She didn't speak of it again. After losing that scared feeling, the really ticked off feeling kicked in. All I could see in my mind was her wheelchair racing into the parking lot where either she would hit a car (face first) or flip over and out (face first). She has severe osteoporosis and has had it forever. That rollover/flip/hit would have broken her into a million pieces. Her bones are so brittle that when I was about 12, I hugged her so hard (not meaning to, I was happy to see her), I broke 3 ribs. She didn't say anything about it in front of me. I only found out about it about a year ago (so let's do the math.... I didn't know for 20+ yrs). I had just about had it with her today. It's like she purposely does things like this just so she can feel independent. I try not to impinge upon her independence as much as possible but since she can't drive, can hardly walk and has a heart condition, there is not much I can't do. Does that make sense???

I start off my day doing pretty good. I'm happy, perky and ready to take on life. By the end of the same day (today!), I'm stressed, anxious, tense, jumpy and not a little ticked off at everybody for anything. I'd make a great case for Prozac if it didn't make me a walking zombie. LOLOLOL

Maybe more later. We'll see.....


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