"You have to go? I wanted you here. It’s a bad day.”
The shaking is severe today. Casper’s unable to hold a cup in her hand, and I’m grateful she’s adapted to using an insulated cup with a top and a straw. Her Diet 7-Up will stay inside, not land on the bed.I have to go to work. I have clients to see and a private practice to hold up on my end of the business. I need to be home. I worked too many hours last week, and today she needs me.
“Let’s go outside and get some sun before I go. It will feel good.” She tries. Her legs won’t hold and her balance is off. It’s been getting worse all week. The kids saw her fall into the door twice and ran to help, but she is too proud, and wants to keep the reality of PD away as long as possible. Today the stairs would be a scary idea.
She lays down, piled on pillows. Kerry bounces in. Our little Tigger. She senses the kind of day it will be, and curls up next to Casper. “Will you keep an eye on my today? Mom has to leave, and it’s one of those days. I can’t be alone.”
I am stunned. Casper has never ever admitted she needs supervision. She’s focused on Kerry, and won’t look at me. Later I see her eyes glistening. “Sure. I’m feeling cruddy. We’ll be cruddy together.” Not a beat missed. We get the cup filled between the three of us. They pick on me for not crushing the cans we recycle to reduce the recycling volume. Talk about plans to really truly move to Hawaii. TV shows are selected- what gory ER or medical monstrosities can they find to watch?
Casper naps a few moments, wakes with a start and shaking worse. Instant anxiety reaction to the shaking. She yells for me, and I hold her till it calms enough to rest again. “Dr. G” is found and the two of them settle in. Kerry on her iPhone, Casper snuggled in.
I am off to work, to be attentive and supportive to my clients, then home again to adjust to a new level of PD in our lives.
When I get home, Casper is asleep, but wakes when she hears me. Sort of. She is still shaking head to toe. Her head can't stay still. She's hungry, but only sweet stuff sounds good. She eats the chocolate cake piece I brought home for her, then asks what else we have. Ice cream was the magic answer. I bring it up, and she can't form words. She nods her head- still hungry. She tries to take the bowl. No good. The cake crumbs are all over, and she can't hold the bowl or the spoon. She can't find her mouth. I offer to feed her. For the first time, there is not argument. There have been times before now where she needed help, but not like this. Today is a whole new level of PD ugliness. Casper can only nod, almost imperceptibly, to say she wants more. She chokes several times. This is ice cream! How can you choke on ice cream?! Ask PD- it makes anything possible. I wipe her chin- PD also causes drooling. Pretty much any little humiliation and PD will step right up. She lays back down.
A few hours later I have my crock pot almost done for tomorrow, and have the yams she loves and mashed potatoes in the oven. The pork chops we were supposed to make are sitting in buttermilk, waiting. I make awful chops, every time. I know it. I have no idea what possessed me at Costco yesterday, other than price and the size of the package. We feed a lot of kids around here. Tonight there will be five at the table, plus us. I have no expectation that Casper will be joining us. I asked her earlier about the chops: "Honey, remember how you used to cook pork chops? You butterflied them and grilled them?" ..."No, that wasn't me. I never did that. I batter them and fry chops." (here's where my stupidity sets in, again) "No, you used to cook them for me in Redlands. They were great." "Nope, not me." Never argue with memory loss. Neither of you can win.
So I was pondering what to do tonight, and Casper arrives. Dressed, showered, ready to cook. Almost mad I hadn't come to get her. Three hours ago she could not walk or talk. My head spins. (I have only had one glass of wine- it wasn't alcohol). She gets the chops out, and I pour the eggs and flour in bowls. Casper knows she can't manage a bowl, even now. We send Charity out for Crisco, and a bit later Casper is making pork chops, at the stove. She could not work the controls, but she's cooking!
Four hours ago she could not eat ice cream. Now she's eating yams and pork chops. Really, really good chops, I have to say. She does dishes with Katrina. Then she's down again. Listing as she walks in our room. completely exhausted, sweating, and can't find words.
Casper may be listing, but I have whiplash. PD whiplash. Wth this lousy disease it's hard to know whihc end is up (Unless you are on the floor...)
No comments:
Post a Comment