Chicken noodle scum

2006-01-29 - 4:23 p.m.

My maternal grandfather has Alzheimers. It was diagnosed a few years ago and of course it's been getting worse. He's 83 and he lives in a house in Santa Rosa by himself. He was doing relatively ok with this situation, but recently he's having more trouble. His main problem at the moment is that he can't seem to remember that my grandmother is dead. She died seven and a half years ago. He's been calling my mom to tell her that his wife is missing. So far he hasn't called the police to report this. But the other day, after discovering she was missing, my grandfather checked the closet, saw that all her clothes were gone, and concluded that she had run away with another man. Apparently he caused a bit of a scene in the neighborhood and some neighbor reported him to the homeowner's association or whatever and now he's on probation. Could they really kick him out of his own home? He lives in a neighborhood that is restricted to people over 55, you'd think they'd have some sort of understanding of dementia. Anyway, my mom has now hired someone to come by everyday from 11 to 2 and spend some time with him. They will take him for a walk, encourage him to bathe, get him to eat a little bit, do "light house work," and drive him around to do errands as necessary. I think this is a wonderful thing. I think it'll help to just have regular contact with another person. I hope it goes well.

Usually the voice in my head is pretty mean to me. Her vocabulary consists mainly of the words "fat," "ugly," "stupid," "cow," and "bitch." But today she was using a new tactic. Today she was doing her best to make me laugh at inappropriate times. See, I was reading today during my lunch break a book by Bill Bryson called "Notes from a Small Island." I came across a short passage where he was talking about meeting a man in a hotel. He says, "He thrust a meaty hand at me and introduced himself. I don't remember his name now, but it was one of those names that only English people have--Colin Crapspray or Bertram Pantyshield or something similarly improbable. I gave a crooked smile, thinking he must be pulling my leg, and said, 'You're kidding.'" I was in the breakroom at the time, steadfastly ignoring everyone else there, when suddenly I found myself snorting diet coke out my nose. I seem to have developed a 4th grade boy's sense of humor. The rest of the day the voice in my head has been doing this routine: VIMH "Hey," Me "What?" VIMH "Colin Crapspray!" and I'd once again be attempting to smother a giggle. I am so weird.

I'm starting my last week of my first pack of bcp's. Today I took a pill with absolutely no active ingredients. I don't really know what to expect from this phase of things. I mean, when will I start bleeding? How long will it last? I'm not worried at all about this, I'm just wondering. I don't really know how to prepare. I'm due to donate blood again, but I think I'll wait until after I'm done with all this.

I have a volleyball game again tonight. Hopefully we'll actually win. We haven't done that yet this season. It's interesting being the worst player on the team. I don't think I've ever really been in this position before. I have to admit I don't much care for it. I have a game next Sunday night too, of course, but it's right in the middle of the Super Bowl. Is it funny that I'd rather watch the Super Bowl than play volleyball? I was actually hoping to be invited to a Super Bowl party at a certain tech's house and then bring Lolo along with me and out ourselves there. Now I don't know if that'll be possible.