Where are you, my positive outlook?

I have a budget of blog post topics waiting for me to tackle.

I just haven't felt like it since I last wrote. I've been waiting until the "positive" in me surfaces.

It hasn't.

Truly, I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself, although I sometimes do. I recognize well that I am not the first, nor am I — unfortunately — the last to go through this. Kim and I have been told we will have lots of ups and downs.

The downs just seem to be happening closer and closer together and lasting longer.

Maybe it's because I'm finally worn down. Maybe it's because I'm depressed. Maybe it's because I've been sick. And maybe it's because the reality — when I really, really, really let it sink in — is that nothing is going to get better.

It's just not. Don't try to tell me otherwise.

Here is the harsh reality:

My dad's health is getting worse. He needs blood transfusions just to feel better for a few days. He looks like a ghost, and he's frail. He walks with a shuffle. He takes several seconds to minutes to get his thoughts out. He can't keep his medicines straight, so I do ... but he still has to call and ask me about them. I try hard not to be frustrated, but I am.

He's depressed about my mom and watching her struggle. No medicine will fix that. He clings to the hope that she will walk — but then I think, really? Is that what we want? Do we want her to have more mobility so that she can wander off or have access to things that are unsafe?

He's lonely because she's in assisted living and he's at home.

But how much longer will he be able to be at home?  Kim and I wondered this yesterday. And then what will we do? He doesn't want to "be put away in a home somewhere." (Like we would do that, but who knows what he might perceive, even with the best of intentions.) Any idea we've been able to come up with so far is something Dad would be miserable with, or it would create massive upheaval I'm not sure either parent could handle.





The best idea, just like the best idea for my mom, is to stay at home. However, money once more becomes the issue because we can't afford full-time care. We just can't, and there's no way around it.

So there's that.

And, as you well know, my mother is a continuing and growing concern. She's not getting any better, either. The doctors said she wouldn't, and they're right so far. Her brain was injured too badly. Too many cells died that day she had the stroke. Not enough can be regenerated or redirected to make up for what she's lost.

When I'm at Toys 'R Us buying foam building blocks, or shopping on Amazon for adult books that look like children's books, nature DVDs, and diapers (call them briefs), wipes and bibs to buy in bulk — how can I not face reality?

While my mom is thankfully in a home we feel better about, times with her can sometimes be so painful. I try not to think of it that way. I try to push away the thoughts of what she's lost and what she was and focus on developing the bond right now. I try to focus on what I can do right now to make her more comfortable and to experience some enjoyment in life.

I get by doing that.

And, I'm still doing self-care things, too. I have a support system, as long as I'll utilize it. I've been escaping by reading crazy, twisted books. I exercise. But sometimes even those things get interrupted with phone calls from my dad telling me how upset my mom is and to please help him. So, I stop what I'm doing — like yesterday — cry all the way home, get in the shower and cry some more, and cry while I'm getting ready to go to my mom's. By then, my head hurts and my eyes are puffy, and I hurt for the rest of the day.

It just hasn't been a good week at all.

Maybe ... starting tomorrow, maybe today ... I will feel better or have a more positive outlook?

Hope so, because I'm tired.