I haven't made it off the couch, but I did my taxes! So that's something. I should really go outside.

It's weird having a Sunday morning. I still had my early morning work duties (given that they left stuff broken, it went rather smoothly, and I didn't have to disturb anyone else), but my head KILLS. I did not bargain for this when I decided I'd finish up shopping for dinner ingredients etc this morning. Der. There's a reason I'm in the ER by now, and it's not reflex.

It's not insurmountable. I just have to learn to schedule around it if she's coming at 2 or 3 every week. Sunday morning will still be a no go zone.

However, on this first one, I do at least have to make it to the pharmacy. Wish me fortitude.

Sue--very exciting! Is it too much to ask why you can't tell your mother (mine seems to be convinced I'll die if I get meds outside of a hospital, but she's communicating calmly, so that's okay)?

Sue--very exciting! Is it too much to ask why you can't tell your mother

She has dementia, and I think, untreated anxiety. The more she worries, the worse her dementia is. I was planning to tell her right before I left, but A) she's been super stressed about this snowstorm and calling me everyday. (She worries a lot about em living alone.) B) She's still really upset about the death of her sister a couple of weeks ago. (From a fast moving cancer that my mom refused to fully accept was really real.) So she's already not in a good mind place.

On the advice of my sister, who is my parents' main caregiver, I am not telling her where I am until I am safely there. (My dad knows that I am going...) I feel really guilty about it though. More that I feel I am adding to her stress. I would not tell her at all, but there's the worry that she'll try to call and me not being home would just sets off a whole new set of worries.

Basically, Capt. Logic has abandoned ship with my mom.

Bah. I can't find my mortgage interest statement. I've been putting all th tax docs together, and I thought I saw it, but nowhere to be seen.

HAH! Just as I said that, a quarterly statement was knocked to the floor and it fell out of that!

Taxes are done here. I'm still on rest for a running injury-- which sucks-- so I'm trapped by a cat while Bob is out there getting in his 20.

Good luck in Ireland, Sue! Someday I will make it there, I swear.

We ran this morning, and it was so cold out the mud was frozen--which was good, because the trail we did is popular with horseback riders, and there were spots that would have been impassible if not frozen. Lots of climbing, though, argh. No wildlife spotted--last week I saw a coyote right there.

But my dog, TNG the rescue GSD, didn't want to get in the back of the car, my sister's RAV4. She did fine on the run, but really didn't want to jump in the car, and I ended up picking her up to get in. And then she didn't like the stairs when we got back to the house. I'm worried she's getting old: she's only 8, after all.

Or worse, that she's maybe having displasia problems. Something else to watch out for in the next few weeks.

I really need to get off the couch: I have to run errands and then go sit with my mother while my dad goes to the Cal game.

Basically, Capt. Logic has abandoned ship with my mom.

Yikes, Sue, I'm sorry. My mother's never been one for logic, but the dementia has really done a job on her. Oddly enough, she doesn't seem to worry about me traveling. She does remember that I'm having job issue, although she can't remember that the PT has visited about eight times. It's fascinating (in an awful way) how to brain works.

Yikes, Sue, I'm sorry. My mother's never been one for logic, but the dementia has really done a job on her.

Thanks. I really think with my mom, if she treated her anxiety, she'd be a million times better. When she's not stressed about things, she's really quite good. But she's in denial about it all. Which is maddening. It makes it harder on all of us and on her.

Years ago my mom was the manager of an Adult Day program. Basically senior day care. Some of the stories she came home with were fascinating. People who couldn't remember what they had for breakfast would talk for hours about their youth. One gentleman couldn't accept that he didn't have a job, so she set-up a mock filing system for him and he would file happily day after day.

Day 2 of being 45 has brought cramps from beyond hell and clogged sinuses. Bodily fluids can fuck right off, please.

I really think with my mom, if she treated her anxiety, she'd be a million times better.

It's not even denial: it's anosognia, where the brain reroutes so successfully around the problem that it has convinced itself there is no problem. I bet she doesn't acknowledge the dementia, either, does she?

My mother, happily, is willing to accept medication for her anxiety, even if no other form of treatment. It's the only way she's been at all manageable.