Monday, September 3, 2007

How do I tell you, you're cRazy?

It's really not funny, but that phrase keeps going through my head with Cat Steven's voice and the tune to How do I tell you that I love you.....

My brother is here on his visit and we finally had a chance to talk. I didn't want to have to talk about it-his MIL just passed away after a fairly lengthy illness and sporadic in home dementia. But I think our own mother is in the first, well, well into the first stages of some type of dementia.

Dementia Rescue on Yahoo has been a great source of support for me. And, I have a lot of practice with Uncle John. Yesterday I unclogged his sink (he'd put a big piece of cardboard over the drain hole) and today I just shut the open refrigerator without comment. But Uncle John was already IN the hospital when he came back to me-and he's my Uncle, not my mother.

Bill said there was a lot of wisdom in just letting the doctor handle it-and following "medical advice". He's had a lot of experience lately and Dr.'s orders carry a lot of weight with that generation (my parent's not my brother's).

I love both my parents and the truth is, they are probably both in the dementia years, but Mom's getting to the hurtful outburst stage. The other thing is, I am always and will forever be the black sheep of the family. If I am suddenly excommunicated from the family for suggesting a Dr. visit, that will be really awkward since I live one house down. But, if that happens, maybe they'll both forget that they hate me in a little while.

The thing is, it's not about me-it's about what's best for Mom, Dad and their life. I would hate to feel like I could have done something to make things better and didn't because I was afraid to. Mid life crisis is not all about red sport car and affairs withh hot young men.

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