In the morning after she has had her meds and has had something to eat and has been up for a little bit, she seems like her old self for awhile. It’s different on different days but this day she is like her old self for an hour or two.
It is interesting and calming to me when it happens. We have little teasers in the morning. I ask her if she wants coffee. She says no. I don’t drink coffee. She used to drink tea but she has not for several months, maybe a couple years. But I always ask her still.
When we were still working for someone else it is how we started our day. She never drank coffee in any form. It was how I got through college and everyday since. I stopped using sugar in about 1974 or so as a protest against the sugar industry. I am able to remember when sugar was ten cents for a five pound bag. I have not seen five pound bags in our little IGA for some time.
Cheryl always drank tea. I have some year-old tea bags in the pantry. Occasionally I will drink tea. Iced tea in the summer is pretty good. Dad used to drink iced tea. I think that I drink iced tea in his memory.
These days Cheryl drinks orange juice with breakfast whatever breakfast may be. Nothing else is satisfactory for breakfast. No milk, no coffee, no tea only orange juice satisfies.
In the evening and on this particular evening she wants to go home. She seems to understand that she is home and somehow not home as I explain why all her pictures, papers and clothes are here. She will say, yes but I want to go home. My heart sinks when she says this. It used to make me panicky. There is no answer. I explain that we are home already and we will sleep here. If she wants we can go home tomorrow. That is okay with her but sometimes we have to call her sister to tell her where we are overnight.
In the morning she had been so much like her old self. In the evening she is different, unsure of where we are, uncertain of who I am, and wants to go home. The ups and downs and general upheaval in the same twelve hours or so of wakefulness is remarkable. Parkinson is scary stuff. (Some would say “shit” but I will not.)
…And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.– Desiderata by Max Ehrmann
I am not convinced, Max.