No one really explains how hard it is to be caretakers. Of course, no one explained how to be a caretaker when one is presently being taken care of, either, so there's a whole lotta flailin' going on here of late. Until last week, no one had told us that there is dementia going on but now that we know, much has been explained.
No one sure hasn't been busy.
Now the days are spent keeping pater from falls, illnesses, confusion (when possible) and making sure he eats, takes his meds, checks his blood sugar levels and, of course, keeping his mood elevated. The hub makes his dinners daily, cleans up his accidents, picks him up when he does fall (which is far too often), handles the laundry, works his ass off, takes care of me and the burgeoning menagerie here, handles the household chores that require mobility and has to cuddle with me when we're not exhausted.
I married a superhero.
Luckily, the VA has stepped up their efforts to get his health under control but, with less than one week on the books for that endeavor, it will take more time and obscene amounts of red tape to get things really going in earnest.
There's not much real point to this post; just a record of days. A venting, perhaps, or - dare I say it? A bitch session.
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