family

   As I said in the last blog this morning, I had trouble sleeping. I didn't actually make it until sometime after 4 pm, and this was the day after getting up in the morning to go shopping. I don't understand it. I called to talk to my doctor, well the nurse, so waiting for the call back was part of it, but, jeez, I only had one Pepsi. 

   I laid down and took a nap, not knowing when I would wake up, but was given my wake up call by Ozzy jumping happily on the bed. Dad has made this room nearly black but I can still tell night from day, and it was still day, so I thought he needed to go out ( I never really know for sure if he's been let out or not - I always assume so, but I don't want to relegate my duties to anyone else). So, I drag myself out of bed and he happily bounces into the dining room to show me that Uncle Everett is eating dinner. Oy. I turn to go back to bed after having a laugh about it with mom and dad, and Ozzy shows me the error of my ways by peeing on the rug (which has already been thoroughly been peed on by Hank when he was getting really old). 

   I couldn't believe it. Mom said, 'Oh, well," like any good grandma, so I picked him up and took him to the spot, put him down  close to it, told him no firmly and took him outside and just cleaned it up, (he actually seemed to be pretty happy to be outside), then I went back into the dining room and stood two feet away from him and called him to come to me. He turned into a little pudding dog and melted into the little space under grandma's chair with his head about an inch off the ground. I didn't raise my voice, but I didn't stop calling, not loudly but firmly, with my hand down, for him to come to me. Inch by very slow inch he made it about half way, so I called it good and picked him up and told him he and done a very bad thing, kissed his head and put him down and he exploded with joy at being loved by me again. The vertical leaps were tremendous. Yeah, do I know discipline or what.

   Since I was up, I decided it was best to stay up, so we watched TV. I asked mom if there was anything good and it's Tuesday so it's America's Got Talent, which we love, so it was worth staying up for. 

   There were two that got to me. One girl was a singer and the child of a broken home who only wanted her father to love her and be proud of her. She sang  I Can't Make You Love Me. The last one they showed was a 9 year old autistic boy who learned, by himself, to communicate with others by singing. Watching his mother watch him sing in front of 20,000 people and communicate so clearly and calmly, knowing he was autistic, brought tears to my eyes.

   All that to say this, by the time I went to bed, which was right after the show was over, I had already cried several times, and was hot, meaning for me feverish, probably from the extended time awake. I called Josh to tell him that the news came today that Dad's test came back just fine - there is no blockage and everything looks good. I couldn't believe it took me that long to remember to tell him. 

   The reason I remembered to call him was that I was thinking that I was homesick. That was going to be my blog for the night - I'm homesick. I know I blather on. If anyone actually gets through everything I write (cause you know I ramble more the more tired I get) I commend you, but tonight that was going to be it. I'm homesick.

   As I talked to Josh, it didn't help, it just made it worse, and I got a little teary, but it was a short conversation cause they were watching a movie. So I got on the computer and checked my e-mail, then checked out my cousin's blog. We've just recently reconnected and she blogs regularly and comments on mine and it's been great catching up, especially now. She's the one who took care of Aunt Lanora, so I feel an especially strong need to keep in close touch with her right now.  

   She had written that they were rearranging their finances so she and their four kids could come down and stay for a month or so and help out, visiting the family at the same time. She would have to rent a car to do it, and bring along her sewing machine to continue her business while she was here in order to make this work.    

   That, of course, just made me cry again, but I told her not to come. As beautiful as the thought and plan is, it's not the right one for this situation. Uncle Everett is upset by noise and chaos and so bringing four children, even though two of them are nearly adults, would probably upset him and the household more than help the situation, and there's not really not room for them here. But it's the most beautiful and thoughtful, and selfless thing... She knows what it's like and wanted to bring her expertise, which would help, but I just thought of what I should have told her on her blog. She knows Alzheimer's, yes, but she knew Aunt Lanora and all her foibles and what she needed and that she would eat all the candy (if I remember right, or was it crackers) so they had to be put in a certain place, and that was valuable information. Dad is like that for Uncle Everett. No one can take the place of Dad - he is Uncle Everett's world. 

   I have been sitting in dad's chair in the living room in the afternoon and so Uncle Everett has taken to calling dad into the office area so the two of them can talk. I told mom today that it's probably because I'm in dad's place and he can't be close to him. I also told mom that now dad knows what it feels like to be a wife, and I was only partly joking. He has to do everything for him, and even if Uncle Everett would allow someone else to do it for him, dad wouldn't let them. He's dad's little brother. Dad will take care of him until he can't, and then he will go to a nursing home.

   But, seeing that Sherry would uproot her family, without really knowing where the resources would come from, in order to help both me, and mom and dad out, just made me cry more, but ... reinforced what I said about my family and their willingness to help. We really are there when the chips are down, as long as the chip on the shoulder isn't too big to see it.

   But I'm still homesick. Mom told me today that she really hadn't been feeling all that well and wasn't sure she was going to go back to Oklahoma with me. That one kinda has me reeling a bit. I wonder why she packed her bag? She has had some horrible experiences with doctors, and really needs a good one. She says that whenever she goes to the doctor they only tell her to lose weight, so she has these symptoms that she tries to diagnose herself because she doesn't want to be embarrassed or humiliated again. I wish I could help her with that one, because that one is endangering her health. She keeps looking for answers in those newsletters that the supplements send out. Anyone out there know a compassionate CIGNA doctor in Maricopa county who is good with people? Her self esteem has taken such a beating that is may literally be the death of her.