Snow
Yep. The plague has apparently hit the South East now. I've got a bunch of friends and family journals saying "OMBSNOW". It's still snowing here as well, but it;s not really sticking. I'm not complaining, and I'll actually be a bit disappointed when spring hits (cause I love me my winter) but hey. I hope it's not too bad out by y'all.
In other news, I took Mrs. PNOG to the doc on Saturday, which was. . . interesting. She's physically as healthy as a horse and might well outlast all of us. Mentally?
I got up with the COG (who had to go to work) and went downstairs to wake up Mrs. PNOG and make sure she remembered we were supposed to hit the doc. I told her I was going to track down her shoes and set some clothes out for her while she went to the bathroom. I do so, she does her morning ablutions, and comes out to sit in the living room in her PJ's. I ask her to change, she says she has. I ask her to put the clothes I've laid out so we can go to the doctor, and she heads to her room as I grab her a cup of coffee.
10 minutes later she comes out, still in her PJ's, but carrying a coat and she's almost in tears. She can't find the black coat she wants to wear (the one I've already pulled out of the coat closet). I explain I already have the black coat out, as well as her shoes, but that I need her to change into some clothes so we can go. She asks me to lay them out, and I remind her we've already done that, they're sitting on her bed.
Another 10 minutes and she has new socks and pants on, but is still in her pajama top. She can't remember if the sweater on her bed is clean or dirty. I check again, remind her that we just pulled it out that morning, and it's clean. She finishes getting dressed and we head to the doctor.
At the doctor, she is the picture of clarity. She answers most of his questions without hesitation. She jokes with him. She fakes her way through his explanations with aplomb. Had I not been there all morning, I wouldn't have believed the change either. Doc ups her dosage of aricept and sends us home.
At home. . . she can't remember anything the doctor said. She asks me repeatedly if he thought she was normal. . . if I thought she was acting strangely. . . if I remembered what he said. . . how long had she been like this?
We talked for a while, me recreating the doctor visit umpteen times, her repeatedly forgetting adn asking again.
It's heart wrenching.
In better news, my mommy is turning 60 this June, and I am getting a ring made for her birthday. I picked out a citrine from the stash o' stones the COG likes to collect (if it's shiny and cheap on line, he'll buy it.) and then went on Saturday afternoon to pick out a setting. I'll let you know how it turns out!
In other news, I took Mrs. PNOG to the doc on Saturday, which was. . . interesting. She's physically as healthy as a horse and might well outlast all of us. Mentally?
I got up with the COG (who had to go to work) and went downstairs to wake up Mrs. PNOG and make sure she remembered we were supposed to hit the doc. I told her I was going to track down her shoes and set some clothes out for her while she went to the bathroom. I do so, she does her morning ablutions, and comes out to sit in the living room in her PJ's. I ask her to change, she says she has. I ask her to put the clothes I've laid out so we can go to the doctor, and she heads to her room as I grab her a cup of coffee.
10 minutes later she comes out, still in her PJ's, but carrying a coat and she's almost in tears. She can't find the black coat she wants to wear (the one I've already pulled out of the coat closet). I explain I already have the black coat out, as well as her shoes, but that I need her to change into some clothes so we can go. She asks me to lay them out, and I remind her we've already done that, they're sitting on her bed.
Another 10 minutes and she has new socks and pants on, but is still in her pajama top. She can't remember if the sweater on her bed is clean or dirty. I check again, remind her that we just pulled it out that morning, and it's clean. She finishes getting dressed and we head to the doctor.
At the doctor, she is the picture of clarity. She answers most of his questions without hesitation. She jokes with him. She fakes her way through his explanations with aplomb. Had I not been there all morning, I wouldn't have believed the change either. Doc ups her dosage of aricept and sends us home.
At home. . . she can't remember anything the doctor said. She asks me repeatedly if he thought she was normal. . . if I thought she was acting strangely. . . if I remembered what he said. . . how long had she been like this?
We talked for a while, me recreating the doctor visit umpteen times, her repeatedly forgetting adn asking again.
It's heart wrenching.
In better news, my mommy is turning 60 this June, and I am getting a ring made for her birthday. I picked out a citrine from the stash o' stones the COG likes to collect (if it's shiny and cheap on line, he'll buy it.) and then went on Saturday afternoon to pick out a setting. I'll let you know how it turns out!