King of Bandaids!

That is what I am anointing myself! King of D'aids! Well, Keeper of the D'Aids might be more accurate. I have had to hide the bandaids from mom. She was putting them on her sores. Not a good way - with the pad over the sore, but with the sticky adhesive part on the sore - which was making the sores unhappy and her unhappier. With effort, Jenny, mom and I are slowly healing mom of owies. I think her back is down from dozens to single digit owies. Now, onto the arms. Yay!

As some of you know, I am writing a relationship blog - in it, for the most part, are posts about notes I have written to people for the first time and responses, if I get any. It also, though, has some pithy thoughts. Sometimes. At least as pithy as some of the thoughts here. Sometimes. So, although I am not posting updates on Facebook, I do think it is worth a read to diehard Augustus blogging fans, of which I think I might number a couple of you. Heck, I am on a month and a half of daily posts over there! And tomorrow there will be a pithy one. See below.

I wrote a bit about my "feelings" (nothing more than feelings) in my relationship blog this morning. I am not going to repeat it here. Here, I will complain about mom instead.

Yay for mom complaining. Not yay for mom complaining to me about her ailments, but yay for me complaining about mom complaining about her ailments. This morning, she woke me up saying she was dying. This is not new. And it is not a fun topic of conversation. Her idea, that I kill her. Or that I give her a pill that she can take to end her life. So, I asked her, in what way dying.

Realize, please, that I had just been dreaming of a woman playing poker (quite an attractive woman, actually) and me knowing that she was a professional poker player and wanted to win some money. Not from me. I think I was a server at the restaurant/club place. Or something like that.

Anyway, mom said, she couldn't breathe. This is not abnormal. She says this all the time. The options are not great for this. I have tried to teach her how to breath. Sadly, she really cannot learn any more. She might get a concept for a minute or two - but an hour later it is usually gone. I have pretty much thrown in the towel trying to teach her anything new. Case in point - she tells me she is cold. I tell her that the fan blowing air in her room is keeping her room cool. She needs to turn off the fan if she would like to be warm. Ok, she says. I turn off the fan. A few minutes later I walk into her room again, the fan is on. Mom, I say, the fan is on. I couldn't breathe, she says. Ok, I say. How are you doing otherwise? I'm cold, she says. Fun times. Let me tell you!

And I don't trust her to self medicate. Right now, I sorry about the artifical tears she uses. Both Jenny and I have observed her putting them in her nose. Luckily, they are basically salt water, but still. Most drugs have been removed from places that she might find and take them. And I am trying to keep her drugs to a minimum. Lots of water, though. Yay water!

All in all, yes, she is deteriorating.