The Enemies of the Lucid Mind
Nov. 5th, 2023 09:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraWoke up in the middle of the night with a revelation: Clutter is the enemy of the lucid mind.
Specifically, clutter that collects on dresser tops in the form of ancient vials of skin cream and cosmetics, and dried and desiccated vials of nail polish, and vitamins that expired before Barack Obama left office, and mini-toiletries purloined from hotels that went out of business before the COVID pandemic, and—Well. You get the drift.
Also, wires and plugs from broken electronics that you toss on a shelf, thinking, That’s gonna come in handy some day! are the enemies of lucidity.
Likewise, piles of unopened mail from insurance companies that want to be your Medicare provider, and envelopes containing dignified but still pathetic pleas from the Metropolitan Museum of Art begging you to consider re-upping your membership.
The jury’s still out on tchotchkes.
But the jury is unanimous in its verdict that tchotchkes must be dusted regularly.
###
In the same middle of the night, I went down to the kitchen to get a drink of water and noticed there was very little food in Linda’s part of the refrigerator and absolutely none of the commercial ice-tea or lemonade she likes to drink by the gallon.
She and Chris have apparently been feeding for two days off the order from the diner she got lost for two and a half hours fetching home on Friday.
Fuck, thought I. Chris is just as deranged as she is.
Anyway, shortly, I will trot off to the supermarket to buy some beverages. If she does indeed have a urinary tract infection, dehydration is the absolute worst thing that could happen to her.
And then I’m gonna corral Chris to force Linda to go to an Urgent Care Center tomorrow to get checked out for a UTI. If she’s lucky, that’s what all this is about.
###
Addenda to above: Just told Linda I was gonna go out and buy some beverages for her.
“I’m going shopping today,” she announced.
“Linda, you can’t do that,” I said. “You’ll have another episode. It’s not safe.”
She began to laugh that strange giddy laugh that she’s always invoked when she’s confronted by something disagreeable. It’s clear she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. I’m annoying.
“And Linda, you have to see a doctor. To get checked out for a urinary tract infection.”
She snorted. “Why would I have a urinary tract infection? I don’t feel like I have a urinary tract infection.”
“Oftentimes, when older people get confused suddenly the way you are, it is a UTI,” I said. I noticed a note of pleading in my voice.
“I will discuss the matter with Pat,” she said airily. “She has a lot more medical knowledge than you do.”
Point conceded: Pat is a practicing NP; I haven’t worked professionally as a nurse in 30 years.
But I’m still an excellent diagnostician.
I know I said I was gonna disengage. Involving myself in this situation is not good for my mental health.
But it also occurs to me that elder abuse can happen by omission as well as by commission, and if I see this happening and don’t try to do something about it, I’m committing a form of elder abuse.
Sigh.
I have a call in to Pat.
And I’m still gonna buy beverages.
But man, do I wish I’d find a $10,000 bill lying on the sidewalk so I could stay in a four-star hotel while I’m looking for a new place to live. This shit is stressful.
Specifically, clutter that collects on dresser tops in the form of ancient vials of skin cream and cosmetics, and dried and desiccated vials of nail polish, and vitamins that expired before Barack Obama left office, and mini-toiletries purloined from hotels that went out of business before the COVID pandemic, and—Well. You get the drift.
Also, wires and plugs from broken electronics that you toss on a shelf, thinking, That’s gonna come in handy some day! are the enemies of lucidity.
Likewise, piles of unopened mail from insurance companies that want to be your Medicare provider, and envelopes containing dignified but still pathetic pleas from the Metropolitan Museum of Art begging you to consider re-upping your membership.
The jury’s still out on tchotchkes.
But the jury is unanimous in its verdict that tchotchkes must be dusted regularly.
###
In the same middle of the night, I went down to the kitchen to get a drink of water and noticed there was very little food in Linda’s part of the refrigerator and absolutely none of the commercial ice-tea or lemonade she likes to drink by the gallon.
She and Chris have apparently been feeding for two days off the order from the diner she got lost for two and a half hours fetching home on Friday.
Fuck, thought I. Chris is just as deranged as she is.
Anyway, shortly, I will trot off to the supermarket to buy some beverages. If she does indeed have a urinary tract infection, dehydration is the absolute worst thing that could happen to her.
And then I’m gonna corral Chris to force Linda to go to an Urgent Care Center tomorrow to get checked out for a UTI. If she’s lucky, that’s what all this is about.
###
Addenda to above: Just told Linda I was gonna go out and buy some beverages for her.
“I’m going shopping today,” she announced.
“Linda, you can’t do that,” I said. “You’ll have another episode. It’s not safe.”
She began to laugh that strange giddy laugh that she’s always invoked when she’s confronted by something disagreeable. It’s clear she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. I’m annoying.
“And Linda, you have to see a doctor. To get checked out for a urinary tract infection.”
She snorted. “Why would I have a urinary tract infection? I don’t feel like I have a urinary tract infection.”
“Oftentimes, when older people get confused suddenly the way you are, it is a UTI,” I said. I noticed a note of pleading in my voice.
“I will discuss the matter with Pat,” she said airily. “She has a lot more medical knowledge than you do.”
Point conceded: Pat is a practicing NP; I haven’t worked professionally as a nurse in 30 years.
But I’m still an excellent diagnostician.
I know I said I was gonna disengage. Involving myself in this situation is not good for my mental health.
But it also occurs to me that elder abuse can happen by omission as well as by commission, and if I see this happening and don’t try to do something about it, I’m committing a form of elder abuse.
Sigh.
I have a call in to Pat.
And I’m still gonna buy beverages.
But man, do I wish I’d find a $10,000 bill lying on the sidewalk so I could stay in a four-star hotel while I’m looking for a new place to live. This shit is stressful.
no subject
Date: 2023-11-05 02:36 pm (UTC)And have also come to the same place as far as omission. I practice this weekly with my mother. Good luck, P. How did the pitch to Lois go cuz that has potential!
no subject
Date: 2023-11-05 02:38 pm (UTC)I'm also surveying a trail that might take me to Santa Cruz.
no subject
Date: 2023-11-08 02:31 pm (UTC)But I've been reading your entries on this subject, and I think you are running out of options. Glad you are trying to do the best by her but you can only do what you can do.
no subject
Date: 2023-11-08 02:36 pm (UTC)But I've done all that I can do on that account. My conscience is clear.