Chin Music

...one little cross leads to shots, grit your teeth/You run for cover so discreet, why don't they/Do what they say, say what you mean/One thing leads to another/ You told me something wrong, I know I listen too long.....

Today, she hits me.

It's not the first time ever, but it is the first time since she's been diagnosed as 'impaired'. The other times were 'parenting' and I've mostly forgiven her for them.

I've mostly forgiven her for this, too.

I'm not sure what I'll tell her if she asks why I have bruises on my chin and throat.  And I don't know whether I'm hoping to have them, or hoping to not have them.

Today, I check her medications. She seemed to have taken today's supply. She should've waited until bedtime for the one in the red pillbox, but it's already gone. She may have taken it last night before bed, but there's no way for me to verify that. She's complained of dizziness, and taking the responsible medication before bed would keep the dizziness from annoying her.

I heat for her some of the tuna casserole I've brought for her. I heat one of the two cups of cold coffee she has sitting around. I put the red pillbox back upstairs on her nightstand. I don't put a slash through yesterday on her upstairs calendar, the one she keeps taking down, because I don't have a pen on me. I'll need to start remembering to carry a pen upstairs always.

I ask if it is okay if I walk her dogs. She says she's just walked them. I ask if she walked them barefoot. She checks the soles of her feet, and says she guesses so.

I'm pleased she likes the pink hat I knit for her. It doesn't go so well with bare feet, even though she's got capri pants and a fleece sweatshirt (both in need of washing) between them.

I tell her I have my phone with me and she can call if she wishes, and set off. She tires easily now, so I walk down the block, around the corner, up the block, across the street, around the corner, down the block, around the corner, up the street, across the street, down the block, around the corner and back up her street. About halfway, she meets me. Still barefoot, still unshowered, still wearing the pink hat.

"I didn't know where my dogs were," she says.

They were with me. You said it was okay. I told you I had my phone. You could've called me.

"I didn't know where my dogs were."

When we get to the gate, I make them sit. She takes off the leashes, despite them not being inside the yard yet. She has to have her way. I make them keep sitting, and she tries to wrestle them from me, raises her hand and that's when she hits me.

I lose my temper and ask if she's going to hit me again. Not nicely. She does. Several times. My throat still hurts, and it's been a few hours.

She continues to rail at me and threaten me before we go inside. She orders me to leave her property. She says she'll get a restraining order. I do not leave. We go inside. She accuses me of trying to control her. I tell her she looked like a crazy woman, wandering in the neighborhood unwashed and barefoot. She says she doesn't care what the neighbors think of her. I tell her that if she is deemed incapable of living alone, she'll need to go into a home.

"That's what you've wanted all along anyway," she shouts at me. It's not true. I know it's not true, and I suspect on some level she knows it, too.  I reiterate that I'm trying to protect her, trying to keep her in her home, keep her doing the things she likes to do. After some more shouting, and a phone call from Coco saying we need to scram now, (hair appointment; her, not me), I say I have to go, I love you, and I lean down to give her a kiss on each cheek, which is the only acceptable way to do it. She gets up, telling me to wait. She wants to give me a hug. "Unless you don't want one," she says, with a nasty edge. I squeeze her very tight and she whispers that she knows I'm trying to help her but it's hard because she has been so cussed independent for so long. I promise I will never leave her no matter how unpleasant she is to me. She says, "I know. I appreciate that. It's just..."

I know.

I KNOW.

The Fixx; One Thing Leads To Another