Sunday, March 22, 2009

I'm wrung out

The whole family piled into my car to visit the MIL.  The MIL was hallucinating again.  By the time she got out to us, she was fairly lucid, a little weird but lucid mostly.  But she did tell me more than a few times that she thinks she is dreaming very vivid dreams, and has to look up hallucinations because she thinks they are very heavy dreams where she can remember everything.  

She got her pills and took a nose dive into LaLaLand.  

She would die of embarrassment if she had any idea what she looks like.  She began weird behaviour like taking her (plastic) fork and trying to pick up food off her chest/belly that wasn't there.  She began sagging in her chair and mumbling.  Her eyes would look at you but they were totally unfocused and dialated.  She could not follow directions at all.  She sees things that aren't there but cannot talk to tell you of them.  I mean she does talk but she moves her mouth and the volume goes up and down to noting mid-sentence.

We took her to her room and called an aide to put her to bed.  She was so high from the drugs that she couldn't function.  I leaned in close to her and she was trying to tell me about doing "presents".  She keeps talking about Christmas when she really means all of us trading birthday presents.  It was not a good evening for her for about 1/2 the evening.

Off that topic. 

I hate sarcasm.  I mean it, I hear it and I totally turn off.  Or try to, my stomach clenches and I just want to get out of there.  Run away, fleeee.  The more I hear sarcasm the more panic stricken I get.  I just turn tail and leave as soon as I can.  Why is it so important to be so sarcastic to people?  Sarcasm is like little nails driven into people, it wounds them.  It makes me sick.  Listening to argueing and sarcasm shrivels my soul.  Really, what is the purpose of it?  

Off that topic.

Tonight we stopped at Borders.  There was this youngish woman with a little boy about 5.  She gave him 2 more minutes (3 times) to pick a comic book.  She finally pointed to one with the toe of her boot: "Get that one, the one with the guy with a needle stuck in his eye."

That made me sad.  

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