by Phyllis McCrossin
It’s a quiet Sunday here in California.
King, our daughter and grandsons are helping their other grandmother aka YaYa, move some reptile tanks in her home. She has quite a menagerie of reptiles and since retiring late last year she has been adding reptile foster care to her repertoire. It’s an impressive collection and a noble cause.
King and I went over to her house last week so King could help her put together shelving units to hold her newly acquired tanks. She had movers coming Tuesday to help her move furniture (she has a 400-pound table that had to be moved and three senior citizens – two with iffy backs – were not up to the task). We were back again Wednesday to help her move lighting fixtures and hang some decorative items in the aftermath of the movers.
King returned Saturday to put together another shelving unit as she has acquired more tanks. Everyone went over today to see the tanks and visit – it’s been awhile since our daughter has been there and she was curious as to the new layout.
I stayed home to babysit dogs – Petra because she doesn’t do well with cats and YaYa has two, and Patty’s dog Luna because – well, I’m not sure why she stayed behind. I’m guessing because it’s easier to leave a dog at home than worry about a four pound puppy tormenting the cats.
When we aren’t building shelves, moving reptile tanks, babysitting kids and/or dogs King and I spend our days at the trailer. After the holidays, a friend from Michigan made me a new loom for twining rugs and mailed it to me here in California. So I’ve been busy tearing up rags to make warp and weft for weaving. I enjoy the creative process.
The gentleman whose yard we are staying in for the next several weeks is dealing with a spouse with dementia. King volunteered me to help out with his wife when he needs to go to appointments, etc.
I’m no expert when it comes to caring for someone with dementia, but I do have experience. My mother lived with us for several years while her memory and normal routines deteriorated. I can relate how desperately he needs a break. It’s heartbreaking to listen to him stand at the door to their house and say, “I’m going to be outside for a few minutes, I won’t be gone long.”
He spends a lot of time talking to King – but only in bursts of 10 to 15 minutes at a time. It’s a frustrating disease. Anyway, if the need arises, he knows we will be available to help out – at least until March.
I wrote a memoir about Mom’s dementia a couple of years ago. The book, titled “Who is that Stranger in the Chair,” is available on Amazon if anyone is interested in a non-medical, non-clinical story about the disease.
And so our days are slipping quickly away. The boys will be starting baseball practice in February and games will begin in March. We will be here for several of them. All too soon it will be time for the cross-country trek back to Michigan.
Time does have a way of slipping away, doesn’t it? I think it moves at the speed of light once you realize you are on the short side of life expectancy. That’s not meant to be a downer, it’s just a reality. I think I’ve spent too much time doing what I thought I was SUPPOSED to be doing and not enough time doing what I WANT to be doing.
I’m pretty sure King came to that realization long before me. I’m not saying he’s smarter, I’m just saying his sense of obligation was not as strong as mine and now that my self-imposed regulatory button has been deactivated, I’m going to do pretty much as I please – within the law, I suppose.
May your deactivation button be found in time to enjoy life.
