A table for two
I’m pleased to report that today is looking a little brighter. Fewer sleep interruptions during the night may have helped; Gilly slept for 3 hour blocks instead of two,. I think we both benefited from more extended sleep time.
I arrived home from work at 1:30 to the news that Gilly is steadier on his feet today. He refused to use the walker all day long, and avoided falling; a slight increment of improvement to motor functioning.
I invited Gilly to the dinner table, but he repeatedly uttered the word “atmosphere” from his perch on the couch. He appeared distraught at first and then began to look annoyed. Yaron and I glanced at one another and shrugged our shoulders. He vehemently pointed towards the kitchen. Yaron got up from his seat and noticed that he had left the fridge door open. Wrong word; right idea. How frustrating it must be to try and get your point across, but have others confused as to what you mean to say. His words have been misfiled, it seems. It’s as if he speaks a foreign language; no one understands unless he offers a cue of some kind. If there is no clue as to the context of his utterance, it’s challenging to guess what he’s trying to express. He often shakes his head and says, “Never mind,” after awhile. I want so badly to find the key to release his thoughts that are locked up inside.
Tomorrow it’s off to Lethbridge VERY early in the morning. I am already dreading the preparation for getting out the door; I suspect that Gilly will have trouble getting up at 7:00, but there’s no other choice if we’re to be out the door by 8:00 (and that’s cutting it close). I suggested to him that we ought to get to sleep early, but he flatly refused. I realize that it’s a control issue; how much control does he actually have over his life? He cannot be forced to eat or sleep; these choices are still within his grasp. I must respect his wishes and try to be patient, but I’m well aware of what awaits me in the morning. We’ll get through it somehow; my anticipation is often worse than the eventuality. I’m banking on that being so…Be strong, Cindy.
We’ll play physio by ear. He may be too tired to go, but I’d like to keep the option open in case he’s game, so I haven’t cancelled. I used to say “one day at a time,” but now I have to split the day up, and say, “one appointment at a time,” especially when we must move from one part of town to another. I have Jerry waiting in the wings to take over as needed in case it appears as if I will have time to see at least one student in the afternoon, so as to ease Friday’s supervision schedule. We’ll see how the morning goes and take it from there.
Every little improvement is cause for celebration, so perhaps I’ll take my boyfriend out to lunch tomorrow. Throughout our married life, I cannot remember ever having the time to break bread together in the middle of the day during the work week, so why not take advantage when the opportunity presents itself? We could both use a change of scenery.
I arrived home from work at 1:30 to the news that Gilly is steadier on his feet today. He refused to use the walker all day long, and avoided falling; a slight increment of improvement to motor functioning.
I invited Gilly to the dinner table, but he repeatedly uttered the word “atmosphere” from his perch on the couch. He appeared distraught at first and then began to look annoyed. Yaron and I glanced at one another and shrugged our shoulders. He vehemently pointed towards the kitchen. Yaron got up from his seat and noticed that he had left the fridge door open. Wrong word; right idea. How frustrating it must be to try and get your point across, but have others confused as to what you mean to say. His words have been misfiled, it seems. It’s as if he speaks a foreign language; no one understands unless he offers a cue of some kind. If there is no clue as to the context of his utterance, it’s challenging to guess what he’s trying to express. He often shakes his head and says, “Never mind,” after awhile. I want so badly to find the key to release his thoughts that are locked up inside.
Tomorrow it’s off to Lethbridge VERY early in the morning. I am already dreading the preparation for getting out the door; I suspect that Gilly will have trouble getting up at 7:00, but there’s no other choice if we’re to be out the door by 8:00 (and that’s cutting it close). I suggested to him that we ought to get to sleep early, but he flatly refused. I realize that it’s a control issue; how much control does he actually have over his life? He cannot be forced to eat or sleep; these choices are still within his grasp. I must respect his wishes and try to be patient, but I’m well aware of what awaits me in the morning. We’ll get through it somehow; my anticipation is often worse than the eventuality. I’m banking on that being so…Be strong, Cindy.
We’ll play physio by ear. He may be too tired to go, but I’d like to keep the option open in case he’s game, so I haven’t cancelled. I used to say “one day at a time,” but now I have to split the day up, and say, “one appointment at a time,” especially when we must move from one part of town to another. I have Jerry waiting in the wings to take over as needed in case it appears as if I will have time to see at least one student in the afternoon, so as to ease Friday’s supervision schedule. We’ll see how the morning goes and take it from there.
Every little improvement is cause for celebration, so perhaps I’ll take my boyfriend out to lunch tomorrow. Throughout our married life, I cannot remember ever having the time to break bread together in the middle of the day during the work week, so why not take advantage when the opportunity presents itself? We could both use a change of scenery.
posted by Gilly at 9:15 PM
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