Reprieve

After the rain: a view down our street

It's been a weird three weeks. Summer came for about 10 days, with temperatures in the mid-eighties every day. Bulbs and trees that don't bloom until mid April are in full flower, or have already bloomed and faded. Some of our daffodils lasted about 3 days in the heat, instead of sticking around for weeks as they would do in more typical cool spring weather.

The day program for G ended with the next location still unknown. I think I know where G will be attending next but have to wait for doctor forms and assessments to be completed. And in between, I visited several locations, G was accepted at one and then days later turned down, I was given strange excuses, phone calls weren't returned - it's been a dismal process.

To top all that, G started behaving strangely about 2 weeks ago, and I feared another infection and repeat of last April's bleak days. After having several tests run and finding nothing obvious amiss in his health, 10 days ago he was too tired to go upstairs to bed. Argh. There followed four nights of us sleeping on the couches in the living room, a hospital bed ordered and delivered a week ago, furniture moved, special sheets purchased (did you know those beds are XL twins?), a mattress topper purchased (did you know those mattresses are really not comfortable?), heel protectors purchased (a new problem - brought on by the uncomfortable mattress?).

And then a thought occurred to me - is the level of anti-anxiety medicine in need of reduction? Since last summer, we've reduced it twice, in September and October, both times when he showed signs of extreme lethargy. I wish I had thought of this right away, but the signs started out differently this time than the last two. Wednesday I cut back his dinnertime dose, and yesterday, thank God, he began to show improvement. Enough improvement to want to go upstairs to bed. This after telling me on Tuesday morning, after his first night in the hospital bed on the first floor, that it didn't matter to him if he slept upstairs or down. That was quite the eye opener for me, as I thought being able to sleep in our room, in our bed, meant something to him. I guess if you are feeling lousy, the bed location trumps the trek up the stairs.

I have been feeling like a cloud has been over our heads. And even though I knew it would pass, that whatever happened we would deal with, it was still so difficult to have so much of our lives off course, tilting crazily, not sure when or how I would be able to get us back on some kind of level footing.

G is in bed upstairs for the second night, and I hope it's the beginning of a more stable stretch.