Shattered

Bad day yesterday. Bad, bad day. Mom woke up at 4:30 am, as is her habit, but made her way downstairs before I could stop her and gently lead her back to bed for at least one more precious hour of sleep.

I had left last night's big mound of dirty dinner pots and dishes in the sink. Do other PSP folks have a cleaning/ordering compulsion? Because Mom does, and this pile, which included a few sharp knives, was an invitation to disaster. And loud, too - I have no carpets and kitchen dish clattering sounds twice as loud in the upstairs bedrooms, where my husband and kids still slept, unaware of the drama unfolding below.

I asked Mom once to come and sit down in the living room, drink her coffee. Twice. Three times. I tried my sometimes successful technique of stroking her upper arms, looking her straight in the eye, and asking her to sit down. Nothing. It was like trying to keep a starving dog from a raw chuck roast.

Gentle readers, I lost it. Yes, I yelled, and flung some silverware as well. "Mom, you have to stop - people are sleeping. Stop! Stop now!" Of course, I woke up H., and ended up having to lure Mom into the living room with a cookie. Then, I stayed up and washed the dishes.

I felt like crap. Still do. My only excuse is that I'm at my very worst at these super early hours, particularly before coffee, and if I have not had at least seven hours of solid sleep. I'm gradually getting used to the time shift, but not quickly enough. Otherwise, I have no excuse. I'm a shit, and need to get some anger management tactics to deal with this disease. Not so much for mom, but for others in my family -- I've yelled at my husband, too, and Dad. I can't do yoga every minute of every day, after all.

Then, Mom fell while putting on her pants. Hard, on the epoxy-over-cement floor of my renovated basement closet. Thankfully, she was o.k. I've been trying to get her to remember to bolster herself on the bed as she dresses, just repeating again and again, "Love to lean. You love to lean when you dress." I thought it was working, but..well.

To cap it off, I broke another bowl on my hard ceramic tiles while talking on the phone. Hundreds of tiny shards, and Mom was on them with her bare hands like a duck on a june bug before I could even hang up the phone. This time, I got her to stop with the direct gaze technique, and called the kids to sit with her in the living room for good measure.

By the way, I asked Mom's permission to write about her and her illness, and she granted it right away - "Of course." No questions asked, and when I explained why I felt the need for myself and for others to get this out there, she seemed to understand it completely. How marvelous is she?!