I tried to update y'all before I left for the weekend, but just couldn't muster up the words.
Thursday night I called one of my aunts to tell her about B., and found her both confused and confusing. She said something about another aunt not doing well and can't drive anymore. I'm close with a daughter of both aunts, I called them both but got voicemail for each. I waited awhile and then just called the second aunt to see what was up.
She's almost 87. She said for the last year or so she had been noticing she was having trouble remembering people's names, but thought (as I would) that this happens when one is over 80. She was living happily in a senior community, still driving, socially active, and though she was having some heart issues she was overall doing well.
I could tell by her voice that she didn't want to tell me it was Alzheimers, because my father died in late-stage and it's the most god-awful fucking disease. We talked for a long time, then when we hung up I called F. She lives about 3 hours from aunt. We decided that Saturday we would drive down and see her, then drive back Sunday morning and work on B's apartment.
So that's what we did, I'll spare the details...there was a lot of crying, some laughing and absolutely no sleep. Crying feels like losing to me, I hate it in private and am mortified if it happens in public. Which made this a rough morning, since I just couldn't not cry all the way home.
I will say this...when you are walking through an airport with tears running down your face, people are very nice. I'm embarrassed to admit this was my second time with this particular life experience.
So usually BF does the airport drive for me, but this time a family obligation kept him from dropping me off. When I got in my car at 4:30am Sat, of course the damn tire pressure light came on. One tire looked a little low but I went, the car handled fine and I just figured I would put air in on my way home.
I mentioned it to BF while I was gone, and he decided he needed to be there when I landed in case the tire was flat. I didn't think his presence was necessary when I could just call the Roadside Assistance #, but the man is incredibly old-fashioned and also very headstrong, so in the end it was arranged that he would meet me at the airport and show me the way to the closest gas station and put air in the tire.
I should explain that I am completely directionally-challenged. If there's a wrong way to go, I'll do it. and on my best of days it really frazzles me to be lost. So I wasn't thrilled about this plan, because unless that tire had gotten a lot lower I thought it would be fine to drive to the air close to my apartment - about 45 minutes, mostly highway.
I was already on my last nerve when the plane landed, and all I wanted out of life was to be home. So when he texted he was stuck in traffic I called and said again, I can deal with the tire, just get off the highway and go on about your day. I'm not waiting at the airport while you're in a traffic jam. So instead he talks me into meeting him at the gas station which he insists is really easy to get to.
Now I was about at the end of my rope. For me, the stress of finding the gas station was far worse than the stress of driving home on a low tire. I asked the toll lady directions when I paid the parking and it didn't sound too hard, but I was very aware that a mis-step might put me on the wrong highway and that thought was about more than I could handle at that point.
Did I mention all the crying? Yeah, that kicked in again...when I went the way I thought she said and realized it wasn't right, there was no gas station and I was driving the back way around the airport.
I. lost. my. fucking. mind.
I never talk to my phone while I'm driving, but I broke that rule to call BF and tell him in a crazy-bitch emotional kind of way that I was going home. The car was handling fine. He again tried to get me to meet him and I wasn't exactly nice about it when I said no. He settled for I would call him if I had tire trouble and would pull over to calm down if I needed to.
That second thing was bullshit on my part, only a blown tire or the law would have gotten me to pull over. I drove slower than I usually do and just chilled in the slow lane. It took about 15 minutes to get my shit together. I put air in the tire and I can't even tell you how good it was to get home.
I unpacked and everything of B.'s I had with me made me cry. I called her friend of 70 years and told her she was gone, that was rough. There's another old friend who needs to be called, but we haven't found her number yet.
On top of everything else I feel really sick. Physically just sick. I think the last few weeks have just worn me right out.
I had planned on looking up what's changed in Alzheimer's care since my dad passed but I think I'll leave that for tomorrow. My cousins are clueless about what's coming, and I'm torn about how much to say. Big sigh.
If you look at the bottom of your post you will see three items in red. The centre item says edit.
I think it might be only visible to the person writing the post.
I only see it on my posts.
My heart goes out to you. Although the names are different and some of the symptoms are different the passing of someone is the same to people who care.
It seems in life that these things come in groups or bunches and the older you get the more frequently they occur.
I can tell you that I thought 2018 was the worst year of my life but then 2019 topped it off.
But 2020 appears to be a light at the end of the tunnel. I think that going through these ordeals makes us stronger maybe not right away but in the future. And having experienced these ordeals helps you deal with other people when another ordeal happens and you know what is coming and they don't. You are the strong one because of the past ordeals.
And know that people care.