Trying something new here: writing when I'm in a bad place. What I want to do is to scream the f-word at the top of my lungs. Why? My parents.
First you need to know that I love my parents. A lot.
My dad has Alzheimer's, high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, gout, depression, osteoporosis, and weighs (I almost put the actual number) a lot. He's 81. He's a LOVELY human being. And he cares for my mom, My mom is bi-polar (stuck in the down part of the cycle for about a decade now) and doesn't leave the house.
(I'm so tempted to just ditch this and not write...it seems mean.) :(
So my dad does laundry and fixes meals and tells my mom when to get up. My mom goes from the bed to the table to her chair and back to bed. They watch tv. They nap a lot. And they are content. And they don't want anyone in their house except for me and my brother.
So I call him every morning to tell him to take his medicine, and every evening to tell him to take his medicine. And I go there once or twice a week to keep the meds up to date and to take him to the grocery store and pay bills (most are on auto-pay) and make sure all is well.
We're on the verge of this not working, though.
We've agreed that a weekly shower for my mom is a reasonable thing. And in the last 6 months, she's gotten clean about every 3 weeks. Yesterday was supposed to be shower day. But they weren't up for it. So now the clock is ticking.
My dad hasn't taken his meds in the last 4 nights, even though we've called him 3 of those 4 evenings to remind him. (We were at a movie and forgot one of the nights.)
They want to stay in their house. And they don't want any strangers involved. And this can't continue. And I just want to cry as I type this, out of frustration, anger, fear, and love.
When I write again, I'll probably write about handstands or about Girls on the Run or about the sunshine. At least that's what I hope I can write about. For today, though, this is what weighs heavy on my heart. Well, this and Austin's ankle. Heading to see an orthopedist in a few hours.