Oh, Dear - Do I Slash My Wrists?
Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2010 12:16 am
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So, some of you know I'm in a dark place lately - among other serious health issues with other loved ones, the most loving and perfect man for me, my husband of almost 40 years, an insulin dependent diabetic, is being consumed by Alzheimer's Disease. We're taking life - together - one day at a time - there is no option. However, tonight may just have been the final insult...
We play a game at night. I take The Little Beast out to go potty. She and I go out the front door. I turn on the big porch lights...and walk over to the edge of the porch and wave and jump up and down to G in his Man Cave. He waves back and smiles. It's silly. Makes me smile.
Tonight, however, I went to wave and he was slack jawed. Took The Beast in and went to the Man Cave to make sure all was right with the world. I stood for a while to make sure his chest moved up and down. Yep. Walked into the room to touch his forehead for the telltale sign of insulin overdose - not a "for sure" method...lucidity is more accurate. No sweat dripping off his forehead.
"What's your name?" I ask. Eyes roll (remember, I woke him from a deep sleep). "George."
"George who?"
"George Douglas."
"Who am I?"
"Nancy Pelosi."
So, do I slash my wrists, or his?
Aw, hell...just pour me another glass of wine.
..
So, some of you know I'm in a dark place lately - among other serious health issues with other loved ones, the most loving and perfect man for me, my husband of almost 40 years, an insulin dependent diabetic, is being consumed by Alzheimer's Disease. We're taking life - together - one day at a time - there is no option. However, tonight may just have been the final insult...
We play a game at night. I take The Little Beast out to go potty. She and I go out the front door. I turn on the big porch lights...and walk over to the edge of the porch and wave and jump up and down to G in his Man Cave. He waves back and smiles. It's silly. Makes me smile.
Tonight, however, I went to wave and he was slack jawed. Took The Beast in and went to the Man Cave to make sure all was right with the world. I stood for a while to make sure his chest moved up and down. Yep. Walked into the room to touch his forehead for the telltale sign of insulin overdose - not a "for sure" method...lucidity is more accurate. No sweat dripping off his forehead.
"What's your name?" I ask. Eyes roll (remember, I woke him from a deep sleep). "George."
"George who?"
"George Douglas."
"Who am I?"
"Nancy Pelosi."
So, do I slash my wrists, or his?
Aw, hell...just pour me another glass of wine.
..