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I may have forgotten how to write
Jan. 18th, 2021 05:25 pmBut I want to learn again. It's hard to start again, even though for my entire life I have always written. These last few years have been so painful and difficult for the country and now the last year and particularly the last few months have been painful and difficult personally as well. So I guess I'll start with this moment and see what happens and where I go.
Right now, I'm sitting with my father in his basement workshop, while he disassembles a battery charger that was delivered damaged last year. There is a lot of swearing. I'm writing this on my phone, which is awkward, and my function is to make sure that he doesn't fall down and to make sure he doesn't take apart something or do something down here that screws up the HVAC or the plumbing. A year ago, I would be at work now. 6 months ago, I would have just come back from a walk in time to cook dinner with my son and settle in for an evening of remote office work.
But in late September, the 21st to be exact, my father, who has been struggling with dementia but hadn't been too bad up until then (certainly not requiring more than my mother to look after him) took all of the meds in his morning pill box-a week's worth-in one go. And then spent a week in the hospital detoxing, which he doesn't remember at all, and then 3 weeks in rehab, which he does remember. Then he came home and I am now finding out what a lot of people have already been through: dementia is horrible. His memory isn't all that bad even, but his ability to reason any his frustration and anger are really difficult to deal with. My mother, who is introverted to an extreme, has had to have aides come in nearly 24 hours and even so she struggles to get enough sleep. I'm here covering gaps every day and covering overnights and daytimes when there are no workers, and everything in my life is upended. All of this is exacerbated by covid. First we couldn't get caregivers because of covid, then we did get some, but the risks, of course...On January 6th, my parents were exposed to a caregiver who tested positive a week later (the thing I had dreaded the most) and that turned into a shitshow culminating in me dragging all 3 of us to a testing facility last week. We were all negative and no one had symptoms but even so I don't recommend the experience. Around all of this, I'm trying to work (still remotely) and deal with the emotional strain. Lots of things I'm good at or terrible at have come into focus like a knife blade. And every day is a new and unpredictable set of circumstances that makes it very difficult to feel in control or useful or anything.
I know everyone is struggling with various things right now and civilized existence is much more unstable than it was a year ago, I'm just blowing off some steam and trying to start the process of going deeper, and writing is my best tool for that.
Right now, I'm sitting with my father in his basement workshop, while he disassembles a battery charger that was delivered damaged last year. There is a lot of swearing. I'm writing this on my phone, which is awkward, and my function is to make sure that he doesn't fall down and to make sure he doesn't take apart something or do something down here that screws up the HVAC or the plumbing. A year ago, I would be at work now. 6 months ago, I would have just come back from a walk in time to cook dinner with my son and settle in for an evening of remote office work.
But in late September, the 21st to be exact, my father, who has been struggling with dementia but hadn't been too bad up until then (certainly not requiring more than my mother to look after him) took all of the meds in his morning pill box-a week's worth-in one go. And then spent a week in the hospital detoxing, which he doesn't remember at all, and then 3 weeks in rehab, which he does remember. Then he came home and I am now finding out what a lot of people have already been through: dementia is horrible. His memory isn't all that bad even, but his ability to reason any his frustration and anger are really difficult to deal with. My mother, who is introverted to an extreme, has had to have aides come in nearly 24 hours and even so she struggles to get enough sleep. I'm here covering gaps every day and covering overnights and daytimes when there are no workers, and everything in my life is upended. All of this is exacerbated by covid. First we couldn't get caregivers because of covid, then we did get some, but the risks, of course...On January 6th, my parents were exposed to a caregiver who tested positive a week later (the thing I had dreaded the most) and that turned into a shitshow culminating in me dragging all 3 of us to a testing facility last week. We were all negative and no one had symptoms but even so I don't recommend the experience. Around all of this, I'm trying to work (still remotely) and deal with the emotional strain. Lots of things I'm good at or terrible at have come into focus like a knife blade. And every day is a new and unpredictable set of circumstances that makes it very difficult to feel in control or useful or anything.
I know everyone is struggling with various things right now and civilized existence is much more unstable than it was a year ago, I'm just blowing off some steam and trying to start the process of going deeper, and writing is my best tool for that.
