I'm Sorry for You

Twice this week,
During stressful times,
Angst-filled times,
Frustrating times
Full of your agitation and anger,
You stopped mid-rage.

The lights came on.
You breathed in sharply.
Your eyes cleared in comprehension.
You looked at me with compassion.
Just briefly.
And you said,
"I'm sorry for you."

Thank you.
I love you.
I care for you.
You are my world.
Strange how this disease
Has brought us closer,
Yet distanced us.
I'm sorry for you, too.
My heart breaks for us.

Christmas Pub Crawl

Last year's Crawl

Last night was the annual Christmas Crazy Hat Pub Crawl that's organized by a friend. I look forward to this fun evening from one year to the next. It's a chance to make merry, relax with friends, and renew acquaintances. There were six or seven places on the agenda, with the evening due to culminate at the Vet's Club for food, games, and camaraderie.

My dear husband had a bit of a rough late afternoon with sundowning, but I dolled myself up and we donned our party hats anyway. I prepared a plate of Christmas cookies, and off we went. I hoped rather than believed for the best, and he settled down while we drove downtown. I breathed a sigh of relief. Hope springs eternal.

I was so looking forward to the crawl! We went to the first stop and waited for the group to arrive. It was probably the first time in my life I've been early for something. We ordered beverages. I tried to explain the situation to the gentleman sitting next to my husband trying to make conversation, but he paid no mind and proceeded to tell us about his lonely and miserable existence. Okay, then. I'm used to this kind of thing, so I took it in stride. He was encouraged and feeling better by the time my husband abruptly stood up and said, "Let's go!"

I do understand that my husband thinks it's time to go if his beverage is gone, even if I haven't finished mine yet or even started it. Yes, this is irritating to me, but I'm getting used to it. Of course, just as I get used to something, it changes. Anyway, I didn't want a scene to ensue, so we wished everyone well and walked to the next stop, about a block up the street in the crisp December air.

I discerned that my husband had to use the restroom (I'm getting pretty good at reading his body language), so I stood outside the door in case I was needed. And here he came, highly irritated, unable to fasten his jeans because he was trying to tuck in his t-shirt, shirt, a winter sweater, and his sweatshirt. Good thing I was close by. There was nobody else in the restroom, and I was able to coax him right back through the door instead of into the dining area. Disaster averted. But naturally a gentleman walked in just as I was zipping up my husband's pants. I can't imagine what he must have thought, but we all had a good laugh, which is a good thing. I needed one.

We joined our friends in the dining room, but my husband just wasn't interested. "Come on! Let's go," he demanded as I tried to make small talk. He seemed impatient, edgy, fidgety, agitated, and disoriented. He wanted to go home. Rather than trying to make the best of things, carrying on with the crawl in the hope that things would get better, I decided to call it a night. Wisdom is the better part of valor, they say. Shortest pub crawl ever.

It's sad to realize that evenings out, though they have been very difficult for a long time, are now probably a thing of the past. Just like that. Another loss in an endless string of losses, another disappointment in an endless string of disappointments. I'm trying to think of something redemptive to say, but I can't think of anything, so...sigh.

Santa Claus

It's almost Christmas again, that time of year when memories of other holiday seasons pop up that are unexpected but not necessarily unwelcome.

Last year, we were doing some last-minute shopping at a crafts store. The lines were long, and so there was a certain amount of trepidation about how the experience was going to go. Would my dear husband decide it was time to leave, right now, just before our turn with the cashier? Would a candy bar magically appear in his pocket (Why do they have candy displays at checkout counters?!)? Would he make a rude remark to the woman in front of us in line? These might seem like small things to you, but believe me when I say they pile up like straw. When you get to the last one, well, it isn't pretty.

But none of those things happened. Instead, there was a somewhat fidgety little girl and her mom in line behind us. The child was looking up at my husband shyly. It occurred to me that she thought he looked like Santa. Which, to be honest, he did. Except not as, uh, robustly composed.

Unable to resist the temptation, I smiled knowingly, leaned close to her, and whispered, "Yes, it is! Shhh...don't tell anyone. You see? You never know where he'll be. He's checking to see which children are naughty and which are nice. I would say you're being very nice indeed!"

Her eyes sparkled and widened, and her smile, well, what's more beautiful than a huge smile on the face of a small child? She was so excited! Hardly able to contain herself and with obvious effort, she stopped fidgeting, took her mom's hand, and was quiet as a church mouse. Her mom, having caught the whole exchange (of course), was highly amused and mouthed a quick "Thank you" to me.

I wonder, this holiday season, how many parents are standing in line with their fidgety little ones, exasperated, stressed, and wishing the time away? Perhaps Santa is watching! You never know where he'll be...

Merry Christmas!

Thor. Or Whatever.

We're driving home from the theater, where we've just seen "Thor." He wasn't very engaged in the film, even though there was plenty of action and lots of computer graphics. And Led Zeppelin tunes. He loves Led Zeppelin and was swaying to the music.

The theater was crowded, of course, so I spent quite a bit of time making sure he didn't disturb others with unwanted comments or attention, as he is wont to do. He kept trying to pick something up from the floor. It was a shadow. All in all, it went pretty well, but I did have to wonder why I'd spent the money. However, none of that is the subject of this post.

So, we're driving home. He looks at me and asks, "Where do you work?"

"Wow!" I think to myself, "An actual question that makes potential conversational sense!"

I respond, "I work at home." I pause and add, "How about you?" I'm hopeful that he'll say something about the company he worked for, or that he doesn't know where he works, or that he doesn't remember, or something...anything...that would indicate understanding and engagement. Silly me. He doesn't answer. I ask again. He points to the hill we're driving past, "There's people up there and walking around and taking you up there and all that stuff." Squirrel.

Okay. But there are no people up there, walking or otherwise. Maybe it's a loose connection from "Thor"? I go along with it, because there's no point in pointing out the obvious. My head is getting accustomed to these letdowns, but my heart feels the punch. Still.

Does this post seem disjointed? Welcome to my world.