My sweet hubby just spent two days in the ICU. Wednesday morning he fell — for the third time — straight back and split his head open. This time, for the first time, he had blood in his brain. It’s a very bad situation but after a bazillion tests over the course of three hospitalizations, no one knows what’s causing the falls other than that he has dementia and his brain “isn’t working right” so maybe it’s kicking out for a second or two here and there.
He was discharged this morning with orders to use a walker and to wear a helmet (like this one, which I just ordered) “any time he isn’t walking on carpeting,” which is pretty much all the time. (We’re going to “personalize” the helmet with decals to “make it his,” so hopefully he’ll wear it with pride (knock-on-wood — God I hope so!).)
Anyway, this is the view he had from his room:
Not bad, huh?
No, the hospital isn’t in the middle of nowhere. It’s smack dab in the middle of Boulder, Colorado (pop. just over 100,000), but it’s situated on land next to a wildlife area. A stream runs underneath those Cottonwood trees and birds galore live in the area, as do coyotes.
It was a snowy day today and the Rocky Mountains are partially obscured by clouds but I still think it’s a view that would make me (and hopefully my dear one) be happy to be alive. (Oh, and I love the contrasting brown of the dried grass from last year.)
My husband called me just now and excitedly announced that — as if, surely, I didn’t know — Robin Williams died.
I said yeah, I knew. What I didn’t say was that it’s been almost a year.
He said something like, “Oh, it’s so hard to tell you something you don’t already know.” Again, I didn’t tell him it’s been almost a year.
Sixty second events like this happen every day when living with someone with dementia.
One learns to shake their head (without showing it) and to cry silent tears.
It’s like needles to the heart. There’s no escaping what’s happening to my loved one’s brain.
I was walking the pups around the block this afternoon when i came across a neighbor who was spraying something along the sidewalk-edge of his front yard. He was nice enough to tell me he was spraying weed killer so I pulled the dogs into the street and we walked by.
Summary: A very nice, seemingly intelligent neighbor spends money on a toxic spray, he sprays it on a soon-to-be unsustainable water-guzzling lawn and he potentially kills bees we need for food production (who are taking nectar from his dandelions).
Homeless people reading mean tweets, via HumansforHumans.ca:
See how the homeless people responded via the link above.
A few years ago, after the Sandy Hook massacre, during the height of the so-called gun “debate” here in the U.S., I read an article (forgot who wrote it or where I read it — apologies) that in essence postulated that as soon as white America saw African-Americans walking around legally carrying guns, the debate about gun control would begin.
(We all know allowing Americans to openly carry guns translates to white Americans openly carrying guns because white America has to protect itself from the black savages who are ruining the country so — wink-wink — open carry laws aren’t really meant to apply to African-Americans.)
I agreed and it has begun. This happened in front of the State Capitol in Austin, Texas today: