First Sticking Snow
It was cold enough the other day for our little froth of snow to stay, if only in little wisps and pockets. But last night it snowed for real. Just a few inches so far. I'll shovel when I can, but it will have to wait for one of the kids to wake up. I can't leave Dan in the house by himself, because even though yesterday he was in his right mind, today he is not.
I woke him at four to take his medicine. I was hoping he'd want to take the pills and go back to sleep. Instead, he swung himself up, painfully, and started trying to put his sock on. He would try to open the toe, I would move the sock so that his hands were on the top, and he'd stubbornly switch it back so that he was trying to open the toe. I went and got myself a cup of coffee; this was obviously going to take awhile.
After some time of this, he got his socks on and, after some discussion in which he accused me of being bossy like his older sisters, he took the pills. But he was dropping the ashtray, not finding things that were right in front of his face, and talking nonsense. "There's something wrong with the hair on number 39, but I think I know how to fix it." "Have you seen where I put the ringtone?" I didn't want to leave him until he was settled.
Fire is the part that scares me most. He wanted a cigarette, but the process of getting one was all mixed up in his brain. He kept trying to light a match. He tore half the cover off the book of matches, and somehow that helped, because then he got one lit. He put it to his mouth.
"Honey, no! That's not a cigarette."
"Oh yeah, right." Then he started trying to light the lit match with his lighter. Of course the match soon got to the point where it burned his fingers, and then he dropped it. Then he started trying to eat the book of matches.
He keeps getting food and either dropping it on the floor or just not eating it. He keeps trying to microwave his coffee with the metal spoon still in the cup. He keeps coming close to falling down, although thankfully he's getting in the habit of using the cane at least some of the time.
I don't know why he was sensible yesterday, but today needs a babysitter. The thing is, he resents me helping him. I keep telling him that as soon as I see he's okay, I'll leave him alone. It's not like there's any choice about it. I can't let him burn the damn house down, or god forbid get in the car and try to drive somewhere in the snow.
I woke him at four to take his medicine. I was hoping he'd want to take the pills and go back to sleep. Instead, he swung himself up, painfully, and started trying to put his sock on. He would try to open the toe, I would move the sock so that his hands were on the top, and he'd stubbornly switch it back so that he was trying to open the toe. I went and got myself a cup of coffee; this was obviously going to take awhile.
After some time of this, he got his socks on and, after some discussion in which he accused me of being bossy like his older sisters, he took the pills. But he was dropping the ashtray, not finding things that were right in front of his face, and talking nonsense. "There's something wrong with the hair on number 39, but I think I know how to fix it." "Have you seen where I put the ringtone?" I didn't want to leave him until he was settled.
Fire is the part that scares me most. He wanted a cigarette, but the process of getting one was all mixed up in his brain. He kept trying to light a match. He tore half the cover off the book of matches, and somehow that helped, because then he got one lit. He put it to his mouth.
"Honey, no! That's not a cigarette."
"Oh yeah, right." Then he started trying to light the lit match with his lighter. Of course the match soon got to the point where it burned his fingers, and then he dropped it. Then he started trying to eat the book of matches.
He keeps getting food and either dropping it on the floor or just not eating it. He keeps trying to microwave his coffee with the metal spoon still in the cup. He keeps coming close to falling down, although thankfully he's getting in the habit of using the cane at least some of the time.
I don't know why he was sensible yesterday, but today needs a babysitter. The thing is, he resents me helping him. I keep telling him that as soon as I see he's okay, I'll leave him alone. It's not like there's any choice about it. I can't let him burn the damn house down, or god forbid get in the car and try to drive somewhere in the snow.