The Mom & Me Journals dot Net
The definitive, eccentric journal of an unlikely caregiver, continued.

Apologia for these journals:
    They are not about taking care of a relative with moderate to severe Alzheimer's/senile dementia.
    For an explanation of what these journals are about, click the link above.
    For internet sources that are about caring for relatives with moderate to severe
        Alzheimer's/senile dementia, click through the Honorable Alzheimer's Blogs in my
        links section to the right.

7 minute Audio Introduction to The Mom & Me Journals [a bit dated, at the moment]

Saturday, January 31, 2009
 
Here's the fundamental conversation I imagine (several times a day)...
...between my parents at the Elsewhere Bar or some other equally amiable spot in Above and Beyond Other Land:

Dad:  I don't know, Chick Chick (my father's nickname for my mother). That Dealie (my father's nickname for me), she's dragging her feet about getting that Death Business done. Look at her...going through that damned website of hers, editing that friend's novel, she's not getting paid for that. Crying all over the place, staying home, watching that cop show instead of doing business...
Mom:  She's not crying all over the place. Anyway, you're a fine one to talk. She got that from you. And, I seem to remember...what was the name of that fellow you used to watch? Cannon? I also remember...
Dad:  That's enough Chick Chick. We're not talking about me. I'm just saying...
Mom:  She'll be fine. She's got a lot to deal with. It's not unusual for her to take things down to the wire. She always comes through.
Dad:  I hope you're right but, I don't know, Chick Chick. You always say everything'll be all right. It's not always all right.
Mom:  It's all been all right. Isn't everything all right now?
Dad:  Everything's always all right, here. She's not here. We're not there. We can't help out.
Mom:  I couldn't help out for several years while she and I lived together. She did fine. You know she did fine.
Dad:  I know. I told her, right after you showed up, that she did fine.
Mom:  I don't think she believes that was you, you know how she is, but, regardless of what she believes, you were right.
Dad:  You weren't always right, though, there.
Mom:  That's what you think. Haven't you figured out, yet, that things always work out for the best?
Dad:  That's not the point. She's taking waaaay too much time grieving your death. That's a problem.
Mom:  She's not just grieving my death, she's finally grieving yours. She's grieving the death of her life with me. She can't see into the future. She doesn't know, yet. That's a lot to deal with, a lot to grieve.
Dad:  Nobody was ever hit harder by their mother's death than I was. But I didn't stop midstream. I couldn't.
Mom:  Well, maybe you should have. You might have lived a longer life than your mother did if you had.
Dad:  [chuckles] Well, you might have a point, Chick Chick. Cain't say I wanted to die, that was frightening, even though, lots of times, I wished I was already dead. But, it's okay now. Since I got here, though, I haven't been sorry I left there.
Mom:  Well, no, I'm not surprised. I like it here, too, but I still wish I was there. Here is always here. There isn't always there. I'd like another run at it.
Dad:  Not me, Chick Chick. You might get your wish, though, and if you do, I hope I get mine. I don't want to go back. It's hell, there, hell on Earth. [snickers at his joke]
Mom:  That's what's got you worried. You're worried that the Dad part of Gail is going to win over the Mom part of Gail. And, you're not taking into account the Gail part of Gail.
Dad:  Now, Chick Chick, you just said something, there. She was good about following her Chick Chick part while the two of you were together.
Mom:  She's always been good about following her Chick Chick part. Look at all the chances she took. Look at the chances she takes.
Dad:  You got me there, Chick Chick. Her whole life has been one big, excuse my, weeeellll, one big chance.
Mom:  That's what life there is.
Dad:  But, did we ever know, really know, what the Gail part of Gail was? She might be even better at following her Dad part, now that you're gone.
Mom:  I'm gone, but not forgotten.
Dad:  She hasn't forgotten me, either. How about a little bet, Chick Chick?
Mom:  Okay. I'll bet a million.
Dad:  A million what?
Mom:  Whatever you want. I'll raise you to two million.
Dad:  You're awfully sure of yourself.
Mom:  Aren't you?
Dad:  Okay, I'm bettin' my side, but I hope I lose.
Mom:  You will. You always do.
Dad:  Aw, come on, Chick Chick! I've won a few.
Mom:  Even when you win, you lose. That's what you always thought when you were there. You know what they say, "Thinking makes it so." I know you understand that, now.
Dad:  Well, you might have a point.
Mom:  Gail thinks she'll be all right, no matter what happens. So she will be.
Dad:  Damn, Chick Chick! I'll bet you three million.
Mom:  Three million what?
Dad:  Whatever you're bettin'.

    In their Background Here and Now I'm chanting: "I'm trying, guys. I'm doing the best I can. I know it doesn't look good, I know it looks like everyone is adjusting better than me, sometimes even I think it doesn't look good, but I'm working on it. I have high hopes. I hope, whomever wins the bet, neither of you is disappointed."
    In my Background There and Then they're saying: "Don't worry, our children have never disappointed us, no matter what. You know this. Do what you have to do. Don't mind our bet. Whatever happens, we all win, after The End.

    And so it goes. The Superbowl is tomorrow. Early tomorrow morning, while I'm supposed to be asleep (maybe I will be asleep, who knows) I'm recording the AKC Eukanuba Dog Show to watch during The [Other] Big Game. Watching it might be touch and go for me. The various dog shows were Mom-and-me favorites. But, I'm ready. I started surfing for dog shows a few weeks ago. For my pre-game show I'll be watching a recording of the Newfoundland segment of Breed All About It, my favorite dog; I'll probably watch it several times. I'll probably also spend some time daydreaming about moving to Newfoundland...perfect place to live with a Newfie. That's how all but two of my moves have started...with daydreams. With any luck, this time next year, or the year after...
    ...later.
Comments:
I see my father wiping off the bar like Jackie Gleason waiting for Crazy Googinheim, Bert's dad reading the paper, Mike's Mom and Dad slow dancing, and your mother and father discussing the finer points of child rearing and its surprising, unexpected results

It's night. It's an outdoor bar. And there are lots and lots of trees with lanterns shining from their branches.

Everyone is fine.
 
Gail--I'm finding that it's a gentle rollercoaster. Some days I'm doing fine and other are just rife with reminders of my mother. Grief is just so different from what I anticipated. We each have our own timetable. I'm here if you need me.
 
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