This week, I was very focused on work. We sent documents to the state for approval. That can get really weird. I used to be terrified of receiving feedback from them because the person that did this before had nightmare exchanges with them about commas and semicolons and capitalization and where exactly does that sentence end? I brought in proofreaders and took a technical writing course and I haven't gotten any punctuation feedback from them, so we get to focus on what my documents mean, not how they are punctuated. I'm much better at that type discussion.
I need to spend some time quilting. I really didn't take any time to quilt this week and my soul needs the recharge. During TV time and last Friday with Linda, I worked on this and finished it yesterday morning.
When I showed this to Linda, I said, I don't think this is your work. The back is pretty chaotic and the thread ends are little birds nests. She looked at it for a second and said no, that's not mine. I wouldn't do that. It's ugly.
Okay, don't hold back, tell us how you really feel.
This is something I'm looking at.
This is another Linda UFO. She asked me specifically to finish it, but the rest of the yarn didn't get here. There's one multi-color yarn in the centers and I found out it's still available, but discontinued. The rest are solids and would be easy to replace. I could put them together as a very cute baby afghan. Or, I could make more blocks and make a bigger afghan. Or, I could stack the squares up and put them in the back of the closet and think about it again next time I do a deep cleaning.
Pretty sure it will be one of the first two.
Linda has a roommate, sort of. They placed her with a lady that is pretty vegetative and doesn't really know we are there. That's a good match for the patient that has lots of visitors.
She's stuck on being in a hospital in Samoa. It just pops into conversation sometimes and she can look at our reactions and know it's wrong, but it's also somehow right. Her room mate is Prince George, King George's son. King George has three children and they all come to visit and Linda got to go to a wedding yesterday where there was a snake woman.
Somebody brought a bunch of library books in. I'm going to get Rob to read the book jacket of the one she's trying to read and see if maybe this is coming from there. It doesn't bother us. We just nod and steer her back to something real, like lunch.
This week, her shower didn't tire her out like the one did last week. And, yesterday, she had her hair cut by the once a week hairdresser that visits. Rob took care of all of that for her, setting up the appointment and making sure she had the money. I got there when they were bringing her back to the room and she had been sitting up for an hour and a half...the most she had sat up in three weeks. And, she was grumpy as heck. But, once we loaded her back in the bed (15 minutes and three adults) and I got a little Diet Coke in her, and got her hearing aids in, she calmed down. She hadn't had her teeth out in a while and I got them brushed and set before the lunch tray came. I'd brought a sandwich and she had a stuffed bell pepper and we sat and had a nice lunch and I propped a pillow under her and went back to work.
What must it sound like to you all when I say things like that? It's become my new normal and I don't even think about it.
The other day, I ran into the hospice nurse. The hospice nurse was talking to Linda about getting better and it was all I could do not to call her out for it, right there. She sees her once a week and happened to be there...well, before we went to Samoa.
Linda asked me why they weren't giving her any chemo to treat her cancer. Just another variation of us having to tell her what's really happening. So, I held her hand and patted it with my other and gave her my sympathetic smile, the one that doesn't push my cheeks up and close my eyes. And, I told a very sweet little old lady that she's dying. Slower than we thought and she's physically stronger now than she's been. But, it's only a matter of time and chemo won't help any more. She thanked me for telling her...again. And dabbed at her eyes with the sheet. And as I walked away, I said something wildly inappropriate...I hear that in heaven, your boobs go back where they belong.
And, she nearly laughed herself off the bed and a nurse out in the hall snorted and I looked around at the ceiling, innocent as a kitten wrapped in yarn.
Cause tha's how we roll.
Everybody have a great Friday and a wonderful weekend. We're planning to buy new kitchen appliances tomorrow. We've shopped and shopped and now it's time to pull that trigger before prices go up too much.
I've picked out the coolest stove! That's the one thing we didn't really need to replace, but it's the piece I've enjoyed shopping for the most. Dishwashers and refrigerators are tools. A stove is a partner in the kitchen.
Lane
6 comments:
Lane, you and Rob are such good, good men. Good, good people. It's an honor to know you (virtually.)
I'm snorting too!
Your visits with Linda remind me of some of mine with my dad while he was in a nursing home. Growing up, we didn't discuss anything sexual. But during one of my visits with my dad, we ended up having a 45 minute discussion on masturbation, good or bad. I told him that it was okay as long as no one else was in the room. The staff said that it must have been fun growing up with my dad, but they were so wrong. His personality was the opposite of how they saw him. Thanks for sharing and bringing up memories of my dad.
I've never commented before, although I've been reading with you for a long time. This post makes me laugh and cry for Linda. God Bless You for being you.
I hope I have someone like you when I go. You are wonderful. I especially like your idea of what happens in heaven. Having felt some ghosts in my day, I can tell you that you can visit loved ones after you go. Tell your friend she can drop in on you if she likes. She can give you a thank you visit. I have had ones from my father, stepfather, daughter, three cats and it is nice.
Everything....goes back where it belongs! Mary
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