This is Summerween, possums scream
I keep seeing social media posts complaining that people are putting their Halloween decorations up too early. And I'm just like... it's so hard to find any joy in this time and place. People are terrified of what might happen in a couple of months. Can we just let people have whatever brings them a tiny crumb of happiness without grousing about it? Someone else's Jack Skellington blow-up does not affect your life at all.
I've become very team "for fuck's sake just let people enjoy things" as I age.
Mom decided about a month ago not to renew the medication for Phil's dementia, which he got a formal diagnosis of last fall. I mean she spoke to his neurologist, she didn't just stop giving him the pills with no input. He (the neurologist) doesn't seem to be a fan of the medication, for some reason. I don't know why, and this is information I'm getting secondhand from Mom, so take that for whatever it's worth. But he seems opposed to them in a vague way, and was agreeable to stopping it. Mom said the side effects--diarrhea, primarily--weren't worth any benefit.
Like I think she thought because they didn't restore his brain to how he was 10 years ago, they "weren't working". Well, fast forward a month, and at least once an evening he'll say something like "When are we going home", as he's sitting on his living room couch. Last night he looked right in her face and asked her "Do you know where my wife is". So yeah, I think the medication did help.
So Mom and I got in a big argument over it, at the end of which she said she was going to talk to the neurologist about putting him back on the meds.
But having slept on it, I kind of... don't care anymore. Sorry if that makes me sound like a monster; what I mean is, she's the one spending 24 hours a day with him. He sometimes doesn't recognize me and David, but that doesn't hurt our feelings. We've never really had a close relationship with Phil or him with us. It's more like we just tolerated each other because we had to. If she thinks the side effects are worse than him periodically not recognizing her, then fine. It's her decision. The reality is, he's 87. He's just not going to be with us much longer no matter what we do.
In more cheerful news, I got my Life magazines from the eBay seller and they're fantastic. They have worn edges and smell musty, to be expected, but there are literally no tears or heavy creases or missing pages. Most of them are from 1970 and 1971, with a few from the mid-'60s. The oldest one is from August of 1963. There are so many cigarette ads in them! Half of them for brands that I don't think exist any more. And the camera ads! I love old cameras and have a pretty good collection of them, although not as much as I used to; a few years ago I sold off a bunch of the ones that I never used.
I spent a couple of nights going through them and making a list of any image that I thought might be useful collage material, which I then clipped to the cover of each magazine so I can find them easily. This also helped air them out, so they don't stink as much as they initially did.
This was from a feature about Angkor Wat in Cambodia.
I've become very team "for fuck's sake just let people enjoy things" as I age.
Mom decided about a month ago not to renew the medication for Phil's dementia, which he got a formal diagnosis of last fall. I mean she spoke to his neurologist, she didn't just stop giving him the pills with no input. He (the neurologist) doesn't seem to be a fan of the medication, for some reason. I don't know why, and this is information I'm getting secondhand from Mom, so take that for whatever it's worth. But he seems opposed to them in a vague way, and was agreeable to stopping it. Mom said the side effects--diarrhea, primarily--weren't worth any benefit.
Like I think she thought because they didn't restore his brain to how he was 10 years ago, they "weren't working". Well, fast forward a month, and at least once an evening he'll say something like "When are we going home", as he's sitting on his living room couch. Last night he looked right in her face and asked her "Do you know where my wife is". So yeah, I think the medication did help.
So Mom and I got in a big argument over it, at the end of which she said she was going to talk to the neurologist about putting him back on the meds.
But having slept on it, I kind of... don't care anymore. Sorry if that makes me sound like a monster; what I mean is, she's the one spending 24 hours a day with him. He sometimes doesn't recognize me and David, but that doesn't hurt our feelings. We've never really had a close relationship with Phil or him with us. It's more like we just tolerated each other because we had to. If she thinks the side effects are worse than him periodically not recognizing her, then fine. It's her decision. The reality is, he's 87. He's just not going to be with us much longer no matter what we do.
In more cheerful news, I got my Life magazines from the eBay seller and they're fantastic. They have worn edges and smell musty, to be expected, but there are literally no tears or heavy creases or missing pages. Most of them are from 1970 and 1971, with a few from the mid-'60s. The oldest one is from August of 1963. There are so many cigarette ads in them! Half of them for brands that I don't think exist any more. And the camera ads! I love old cameras and have a pretty good collection of them, although not as much as I used to; a few years ago I sold off a bunch of the ones that I never used.
I spent a couple of nights going through them and making a list of any image that I thought might be useful collage material, which I then clipped to the cover of each magazine so I can find them easily. This also helped air them out, so they don't stink as much as they initially did.
This was from a feature about Angkor Wat in Cambodia.