still May

I think it's coincidental. I think there's no truth to the idea that it's somehow deliberate. Maybe I'm amassing data to support a theory, because I've already bought into the veracity of this theory. Still, it does seem to me that the most beautiful month, which in Wisconsin has to be May, often strives to remind us that beauty comes with challenges. Serious life's challenges. My four gravest illnesses all came at me in May -- just as an example! And this year, I have my mother's cognitive decline to grapple with. All of it, this month, an otherwise perfect month, a merry month of flowers and sunshine and butterflies and meadows.

Much of the morning is devoted to my mother: several phone conversations with staff members, a visit -- all in an attempt to figure out what's behind her stream of acute criticism that's coming seemingly out of nowhere. One theory is that she suffered what's called "hospital trauma" where something went wrong and she spiraled it into a big event and then it spun out of control. There are other theories, irrelevant for Ocean purposes, though I'm fairly certain that I am right now a contributing factor to her woes. I'm pretty sure that my unwillingness to accept without reservation her assessments of her sorry state is a major blow for her. I always tread on thin ice when I do not feed into her iron-clad narrative. In the past, when I broke down and pushed back against her stream of complaints, it's never ended well. I discussed with the staff whether perhaps I should just accept all her stories, because, well, she is 100 and if that will bring her some satisfaction, then why not?

I suppose the answer is one that the social worker gave me: I need to protect myself in all this as well. Feeding into a fiction seems, at least in theory, harmless, unless that fiction is completely at odds with my own feelings about what is real and what is just an imagined story, unsupported by the reality within which we have lived for a long, long time. I've always thought it's best to just stay quiet, to listen without commentary, even when attacked. And now here I am, thinking that maybe staying totally silent in the face of all that's thrown at me, at the staff, is perhaps not the right way to proceed after all. Maybe I shouldn't be such a wimp! Ed has so often told me to cut short and walk away from any conversations that I don't like. Just hang up the (proverbial) phone -- he'd say again and again. And most often, the wimp in me would say -- it's more trouble to do that then to just listen. Total wimp!

I did have a few minutes in the garden in the early morning, not much more than that. (It did not help that the rains returned in the afternoon...)

And I did have a nice coffee with a friend downtown. And Ed and I ate breakfast bowls of fruit in the afternoon and pretended it was our morning meal. Sweet guy, not used to so much emotional craziness, he is nonetheless a good person to have at your side.

And then it is time to focus on the grandkids, who just loved the fact that it was hat day in school today!

Snowdrop has her Shakespeare lines to memorize every day now and so we work on that. So far she is full of enthusiasm and not buckling under the pressure (154 lines by July 15th!).  May her resolve stay with her!

In the evening, I read about the Diverging Diamond Interchange. What -- you've not heard of it? I'll link to a story describing it, only because the picture there gives you a visual map of how this works and I myself needed the graphics to fully get the set up. It's an idea developed by a guy who all his life loved to imagine and create traffic patterns. Even as a little kid, with Matchbox cars. And he had this great inspiration -- to avoid the hazards and long waits in a left turn, he suggested a diamond like pattern, where you go to the other side of the road before you make the turn. You can see the design here.

My own car accident happened due to just such a left turn (with a rogue car coming at me from the parking lane). Imagine, a less dangerous turning option! Thanks to a guy who liked to play with toy cars. You have to marvel at human ingenuity and creative impulse.

The clouds break up. There is a stunning sunset, but our trees are too dense for us to fully take it in. How about just a tiny glimpse?

 

 

 

Remarkable month. In all ways!

with love...