As is often the case when I'm in my hometown, there is too much to say and not enough brain to say it.
so, snippets:
"Dad?" he calls, and sits up a bit from the incline in his hospital bed. He's just returned from physical therapy and is too tired to sit in the chair.
"Dad," he repeats, looking directly at me and waving me over.
I give Mom a puzzled glance but go over to him anyway. He strikes up a conversation with me, but I don't get the sense he is talking to his father, I think he's talking to me... but I'm not completely convinced. He's asking me for reassurance.
Later on we figure out that the other day when he was asking Mom about his Dad and how he'd like to see him, he meant ME. I don't resemble him all that much (from pictures I've seen), except that maybe I'm now at the age that probably most closely matches the memory he has of his Dad, my Grandfather, who died before I was born. He was a baldie, too. Probably my Dad's word retrieval has gone awry for a bit, and he just couldn't come up with "Brian."
===
The hospital brings a lunch tray for Mom, she's nearly always there at lunch time to be with him. They put a slice of peach pie on hers that she doesn't touch, but gives to him. He eats it greedily (and partly because he's had a glimpse of the nurse that takes him to PT and he wants to finish before he goes).
At Mom's prompt I help him manage the plate and then give him a wet wipe to clean the syrupy bit off his fingers. They take him off to PT, he comes back, gets into the bed. He doesn't say what he wants, but it's pretty clear from the direction he's heading that he wants to lie down. The conversation described above happens.
When there's nothing left to say, and he starts to nod off, Mom says, "Nothin' left to do but just love him."
+++++++
Flat tire in the parking lot of the hospital. One of the advantages to being in a small town is that when the AAA dispatch tells you they'll be there within the hour, it's more like 15 minutes. 20 minutes after that the tire is repaired and back on the car. Not quite the headache I needed today, one of the hottest days on record here. (For that matter, why can't I get a flat when it's pleasant weather? The last one was in the middle of a snowstorm.)
Of course, yesterday, between all the info gathering and Janie's most recent meltdown I had left the car door open, walked away from it and it never registered with me that the car alarm I was hearing was MINE... which went on for another 10 minutes or so before I realized just how distracted I had been. The kids sitting in the park nearby gave me a funny look.
&&&&&&&&&
Sister has been on a wild roller coaster. Her old manipulations weren't working with Mom this time around, hence (I suspect) the upping of the ante and the extreme behavior we saw earlier in the week. Calm when I left her tonight. Turns out she has a sinus infection and won't be going in to the hospital tomorrow... which is a HUGE relief for me, because having to keep track of everything Mom wants me to do and needs support with is tricky enough without having to manage the volcano/tornado/nuclear meltdown that Janie turns into when she is overwhelmed and afraid.
-----------------
It scares me when I see myself in my sister's maladaptive behaviors.
############
The nursing home he is going into tomorrow is not as nice as the one I visited a few days ago, but it's closer. The local bus company can pick up Mom at her door and take her directly to the facility to visit him if she doesn't want to drive. I hope he's going to be okay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comforting Janie over the "what if" scenarios that are making her crazy: in a conversation with my Aunt (Dad's sister) about "Brian, I've often wondered what goes through her mind to upset her so?" I expound this theory:
Uncertainty is very difficult. When Janie doesn't know what outcome to expect, she predicts one. And then plans her responses, the consequences, her further responses and courses of action. Often these end up with her having to take on impossible tasks that she must realize on some level that she can't do or that would have severe negative impact on her life.
The trouble is, when she follows the "what if" scenario to that end, the whole thing has the emotional weight of reality, even though it is entirely an abstract construct in her mind. So she responds emotionally to her fears as if they have actually occurred.
I wonder if other autism spectrum family members have noticed the same thing. Maybe it's time to go back over to that forum and ask. Haven't been there in a while.
@@@@@@@@@@@
I'm a little surprised by the availability of combustibles. You can get a hand gun at the local WalMart. Firecrackers (well, at least for the 4th) were in display cases next to the cash registers in many convenience stores.
There's a sign I've driven past everyday that still makes one or the other of my eyebrows raise each time I see it:
"Pepper Spray and Stun Guns - Sugar Free Fudge"
And it has made me wonder: what is your life like if THOSE three things are on your shopping list?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
life is a funny thing.
so, snippets:
"Dad?" he calls, and sits up a bit from the incline in his hospital bed. He's just returned from physical therapy and is too tired to sit in the chair.
"Dad," he repeats, looking directly at me and waving me over.
I give Mom a puzzled glance but go over to him anyway. He strikes up a conversation with me, but I don't get the sense he is talking to his father, I think he's talking to me... but I'm not completely convinced. He's asking me for reassurance.
Later on we figure out that the other day when he was asking Mom about his Dad and how he'd like to see him, he meant ME. I don't resemble him all that much (from pictures I've seen), except that maybe I'm now at the age that probably most closely matches the memory he has of his Dad, my Grandfather, who died before I was born. He was a baldie, too. Probably my Dad's word retrieval has gone awry for a bit, and he just couldn't come up with "Brian."
===
The hospital brings a lunch tray for Mom, she's nearly always there at lunch time to be with him. They put a slice of peach pie on hers that she doesn't touch, but gives to him. He eats it greedily (and partly because he's had a glimpse of the nurse that takes him to PT and he wants to finish before he goes).
At Mom's prompt I help him manage the plate and then give him a wet wipe to clean the syrupy bit off his fingers. They take him off to PT, he comes back, gets into the bed. He doesn't say what he wants, but it's pretty clear from the direction he's heading that he wants to lie down. The conversation described above happens.
When there's nothing left to say, and he starts to nod off, Mom says, "Nothin' left to do but just love him."
+++++++
Flat tire in the parking lot of the hospital. One of the advantages to being in a small town is that when the AAA dispatch tells you they'll be there within the hour, it's more like 15 minutes. 20 minutes after that the tire is repaired and back on the car. Not quite the headache I needed today, one of the hottest days on record here. (For that matter, why can't I get a flat when it's pleasant weather? The last one was in the middle of a snowstorm.)
Of course, yesterday, between all the info gathering and Janie's most recent meltdown I had left the car door open, walked away from it and it never registered with me that the car alarm I was hearing was MINE... which went on for another 10 minutes or so before I realized just how distracted I had been. The kids sitting in the park nearby gave me a funny look.
&&&&&&&&&
Sister has been on a wild roller coaster. Her old manipulations weren't working with Mom this time around, hence (I suspect) the upping of the ante and the extreme behavior we saw earlier in the week. Calm when I left her tonight. Turns out she has a sinus infection and won't be going in to the hospital tomorrow... which is a HUGE relief for me, because having to keep track of everything Mom wants me to do and needs support with is tricky enough without having to manage the volcano/tornado/nuclear meltdown that Janie turns into when she is overwhelmed and afraid.
-----------------
It scares me when I see myself in my sister's maladaptive behaviors.
############
The nursing home he is going into tomorrow is not as nice as the one I visited a few days ago, but it's closer. The local bus company can pick up Mom at her door and take her directly to the facility to visit him if she doesn't want to drive. I hope he's going to be okay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comforting Janie over the "what if" scenarios that are making her crazy: in a conversation with my Aunt (Dad's sister) about "Brian, I've often wondered what goes through her mind to upset her so?" I expound this theory:
Uncertainty is very difficult. When Janie doesn't know what outcome to expect, she predicts one. And then plans her responses, the consequences, her further responses and courses of action. Often these end up with her having to take on impossible tasks that she must realize on some level that she can't do or that would have severe negative impact on her life.
The trouble is, when she follows the "what if" scenario to that end, the whole thing has the emotional weight of reality, even though it is entirely an abstract construct in her mind. So she responds emotionally to her fears as if they have actually occurred.
I wonder if other autism spectrum family members have noticed the same thing. Maybe it's time to go back over to that forum and ask. Haven't been there in a while.
@@@@@@@@@@@
I'm a little surprised by the availability of combustibles. You can get a hand gun at the local WalMart. Firecrackers (well, at least for the 4th) were in display cases next to the cash registers in many convenience stores.
There's a sign I've driven past everyday that still makes one or the other of my eyebrows raise each time I see it:
"Pepper Spray and Stun Guns - Sugar Free Fudge"
And it has made me wonder: what is your life like if THOSE three things are on your shopping list?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
life is a funny thing.
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