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I think I know the true meaning of that phrase lately. Seems like my whole life is: Take a deep breath and…(But when do I get to exhale?) Life is entirely too busy, and I am so frazzled. It seems like for about 2 weeks now (more like 3 years really) I have been on a speeding train that won’t slow down. We took a business trip to Jacksonville, Florida which was truly a nightmare.  We drove home, unpacked, and I spent the next day with my mother sorting out her AC problems and running the never-ending errands that life is comprised of. Then Wednesday night, my husband and I practiced singing for a Christian outreach at our local fairgrounds, and Thursday night we sang, he gave his testimony, and then we prayed with people until pretty late. On Friday I woke up almost delirious-nauseated and feverish. I was supposed to go to Pensacola with him tomorrow. He is going to a wedding, and I had planned to go shopping, but alas, I am not feeling well enough. (I always seem to miss the good things.)

And just when I thought I got things fairly squared away with my flea market booth, now the owner’s adding solar panels to the windows, and everyone who has a window booth (I’m one) has to move all shelves 3 feet away from the window, Sunday evening. That sounds easy, but when you have a hundred glass items in the booth, it is a pain for sure. Then Monday the shop will be closed for the installation, and that night we go back in, and put our booths back together for business on Tuesday. On Tuesday, my mom has an eye doctor appointment and on and on it goes…

I could not be more busy if I had a full time job. But I DO have a full time job in the care of my mom. It is one crisis after another. A few nights ago, I was trying to work on solutions to keep her from falling off her bed. I tried out the mattress, and it turns out that the bed was actually pitching her off. The thing is clearly possessed!! I think it is because she sits on the side of her bed a lot, and that has made it uneven. She has one of those Posture-Pedic hospital type beds, which has really turned out to be less than manageable. She is too feeble to make the whole king sized bed, and the single parts that go up and down make it difficult for her to even change her sheets, as she has rheumatoid arthritis, and can’t really climb on the bed to reach between the two mattresses. You’d have to see it, but it’s just not practical now that my dad’s gone, and can’t help her with it.

We bought one of the bed rails that I had used for Chelsea, when she was younger, to keep her from falling off the bed, but my mother is not mobile enough for it to work easily. We can get her safely blocked in, but then she can’t easily get out of the bed to go to the bathroom, which she does at least two times a night. (A toddler just scoots to the end of the bed, and scrambles off, but for the most part, my mother’s scooting days are over.) If she falls off the bed, not only is it dangerous, but she can’t get up. (Yes…”Help I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up.”) She has to call my brother, who works nearby, to help her up. (She is too heavy for me to lift.) She doesn’t have enough strength in either her arms or legs to lift herself. I am so afraid that one day she will break an arm or a hip.

These are difficult days, as I can tell her confusion is increasing, and several times I have caught her trying to shoot her insulin, without first taking her blood sugar. This is important because if her blood sugar is under 100, she is not supposed to take the insulin. If she does, chances are she will go low quickly, and could go into a coma. (So these are not minor concerns.) When I try to remind her, she gets fussy, and irritable. She can be very strong-willed. A lot of her frustration comes from her own realization that her mind is not as sharp, and it upsets her. (I love her, and this is painful to deal with.) So once again the child (me) becomes the parent.

My nervous system stays somewhat whacked. I find this almost the hardest thing I’ve ever done. To manage a parent with failing health and confusion. Very, very stressful.

So that’s my life. Boring to you…complicated to me. No rest for the weary, it seems. So I take a LOT of deep breaths…but when do I get to exhale?…

Please see other articles that I have written here:


One Comment

  1. good stuff

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