Every once in awhile I get the what-if-I-did-this-instead-of-that in life blues (mood, meditation, discernment). They have been strong for the past couple weeks.

I suppose this winter has gotten me down more than previous. Cheryl seems more and more mentally frail as the PD/dementia progresses. I think that bothers me more than I want to admit to myself.

She has not seen the woman who lives in the corner of our bedroom for several weeks. Cheryl thinks her name is Jean but she is not sure of that.

The what-ifs instill a background anger. It is a sort of smoldering why-isn’t-there-a-fix mood. Perhaps it is time for me to find a shrink.

Therapy for me is to find a novel that captures and keeps my interest. I have never been one to stick with it if the story has wandered off into the weeds. Recently I read “A Man Called Ove” by Fredrik Bachman. It spoke to my heart and kept my interest. Ove was pretty down after his wife passed away but many of his neighbors kept inadvertently messing with his suicide plans and the story goes on from there.

Typically I read for an hour or two before going to bed in the evening. If Cheryl is awake when I come to bed I notice that she does not sleep well through the night. I let her sleep later and then feel guilty all day while I am getting her back onto her med schedule. And it creates anxious stress in me as I keep track of her medications more closely until she is caught up.

The medications only seem to work sorta.

Parkinson does seem to be endless and that starts to get me thinking about the What-Ifs again. There are no take-backs in this life but wow does PD suck.

I am hoping that she will get her earrings in in time for us to go for a walk in the sunshine today. I would help but that merely causes a spat. So far it is not looking good.

Carpe Diem. (And then she appears.)