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Saturday, September 16, 2017

Friday end of the week


When I woke yesterday, it was another one of those “I want my life back” days. It came on all week, starting with not getting past runs when I played cards with the Methodists, Monday. My mind doesn’t move quickly; I don’t remember what I read long enough to remark on it.

I remember being impressed by my father’s speech. Every word and sentence parsed, perfectly diagrammed, formed into a full paragraph before we heard it. I can sit quietly by, pretending, and the topic will move on before I’m called upon. Another escape.

Poor Kristen, my trainer, took the worst hit, at eleven at the gym. I plugged away, my face an inch thick in tears. I’ve watched these professionals work for the last six months now, and they are as adept at steering situations as workouts. Kristen is no slouch, uphill as it was.

She attempted to make good of every activity she quizzed me about, to little avail. Finally she was reduced to what time I got up that morning. Ninety minutes before the eleven appointment. Long silence. “Did you make your bed?” Of course I’d made my bed! “Well, see,” said she, in triumph.

Kay invited me for dessert last night. We sat on the back deck of the old house, tea and raspberry tarts. My mother would love this woman, for raspberries and tea, too. I told Kay about the state of cars at my house, and especially how I despise the little Kia assigned to me. Kay said she was up to four cars now, two over her limit, and until she sold the excess I was welcome to one. Pure Mom.

To boot, I could do her an enormous favor and help her retrieve two cars from the mechanic. The plan was to go in the Kia to her mechanic, get the Saturn I was to drive, deliver the Kia to the airport, stop at the mechanic on the way back and retrieve the car she intended to drive and scoot on home in time for me to get Laura at ten a.m. from an overnight. This required me getting up at six a.m. this morning. Kay was so into the project, I could not tell her six a.m. left my repertoire years ago. So, we did it.

When I pulled into her place last night, an enormous cloud of purple in the garden. Dad’s fall blooming crocus, colchicum, in full array. When I got home, I looked in my little garden, and there they were, just beginning to come up. Another year and they will be a purple cloud.


32 comments:

  1. So glad you had a nice time with your friend Kay after a horrid beginning to your week. It's wonderful that she will give you a larger car to drive. It's also great that you will have flowers to look forward to that remind you of your dear dad. So many good things despite the not so good. It's what keeps us going. Hugs to you dear Joanne. (BTW, I've decided not to clear the garden debris based on your reminder to me that the birds come and eat. Here we have little snow over the winter so it is always a good garden for them to come to and dine). Have a wonderful weekend.

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  2. Hooray for Kay. And for purple clouds. A little later I will share anenomies as they bloom because they always make me think of you.

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  3. Kay in a gem in so many ways. It must be great to see the purple cloud coming up!

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  4. She sounds like the mother we all need. I know how frustrated you must get, just every day forgetting and loss of short term memory drives me wild and sometimes makes me want to cry. You'll get through this though, living well is the best revenge.

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  5. I'm sorry for the frustration, Joanne. It's easy for others (like me) to say that healing will take time and to be patient. It's quite another to be waiting and waiting for it to happen, and to wonder if it ever will. But we never, ever know what tomorrow will bring. And it can take a long time for the neurons to heal, but it can happen. Hugs, my friend. I'm glad you had a bit of good in the week to help you along. And 6 a.m. hasn't been in my repertoire for a long, long time either - yet I keep making myself get up if I have appointments and then feel like crap until I have a nap, IF I can have a nap, otherwise until bedtime comes again. Not fun.

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    1. Yesterday at Kay's house I picked up a slim volume by Joyce Oates. I opened the title page and realized I probably have read every Joyce Oates. But now I've read none.

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    2. It's probably no use telling you I have the same thing happen and it's not due to brain injury. No. It will only make you feel I am a dunce to start with :)

      Seriously, I do understand. To have your normal ability taken away is a loss, no matter what your normal started out being. Keep fighting, J.

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  6. You have more energy than me.
    Purple cloud is alway nice.
    Merle...............

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  7. Your garden is looking lovely. Hooray for no more Kia, those little cars look like toys!
    I sometimes have to think real hard to remember what I ate for dinner the night before.

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    1. Every morning I test myself: what did Laura make for supper last night. I don't quit until I remember.

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  8. I think we all need a Kay in our lives. Glad you got one in yours!

    betty

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  9. I've told you before Joanne, you are an ispiration,the way you carry on.

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  10. Your little colchicum coming out of the ground will keep you going. Every time I see the poppy in my yard coming through the shingle where nothing else grows I know my mum has come to see me.

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    1. Sometimes I have an overwhelming feeling I just need to go into the next room and telephone my mother. "I must go call her!"

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  11. hari OM
    None of my words are going to help you - but at least you will know that I Love you and care and my heart aches for you... dear friend, the bad days are just that. Days. The good days are there too. I know that because you tell us about them and the moments that lift the bad days. Like Colchicum. YAM xx

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  12. Started out rough, ended up in glory. THAT'S the way to finish off a week. Starting in tears and ending in tea and tarts and clouds of purple remembrance. Perfect. Keep on keeping on Joanne....it's GOT to get better.

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  13. Too funny regarding the memory tasks. Keep going, don't despair. And tea and dessert sounds mighty fine.

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  14. I have trouble remembering the titles of books I've read. I am currently reading Al Franken's new book and it is quite funny. I thought I knew a lot about politics, but do not. It is a funny look behind the scenes. Picture Mitch McConnel laughing until milk comes out his nose. Little moments that make up the days; that is what it's all about. Hopefully more good ones than bad.

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  15. having to find a new normal around here. at least for a while. wish I had gardens to show off. the flood washed away things as if they had never existed. I so relate to what you are going through though my recovery will be quicker.

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    1. I think about your gardens. I bet even the damn bricks went downstream.

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  16. That new garden bedding is really coming along, as are you. It all takes time. But in the meantime (and it really is a "mean time") it is good to see you putting your anger and frustration to good use by writing these fabulous posts.

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  17. Joanne, I had to laugh at your comment " I opened the title page and realized I probably have read every Joyce Oates. But now I've read none." Because I feel that way a lot (and I haven't had a brain trauma). This relates to both books and movies. I do read constantly, so perhaps it's not unusual not to remember a story until halfway through it. But DH constantly says "we've seen this before" when I have no memory of it. My thought is... well, maybe it's a good thing that I can enjoy it again?
    However, I do wish you a speedy recovery! I can only imagine how frustrating it can be.

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  18. From your description of collecting and delivering cars it seems you are remembering things better than you think. Maybe you are putting too much pressure on yourself at your therapy sessions. I see progress in your writing too. Relax but keep working too. It will come.

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    1. Mark Twain said "Nothing enhances a good story like omitting details." I rely heavily on him.

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  19. How wonderful for you to have a friend like Kay!!

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  20. wow what a generous friend this Kay.
    So Kristen took the worst hit? Not sure I follow you. Is it because you gave her such a tough time during the mental exercises?

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    1. In spite of the wave of depression, I stayed rather in control, until Friday, when I could not. The tears are not blubbery or sobbing, just wet. Kris wanted to show me I really was doing a good job, and for an hour could not score a point until bed making. Guys are so literal. :-)

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  21. I want my life back, too, but it's a different situation for me. You are not the only one with tears. I empathize.

    Love,
    Janie

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