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May. 28th, 2006 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urocyonMore thanks to Patrick "Barking Mad" McKee at one of the local television stations. According to him, this high pressure system is forming a bowl to hold in the heat for a lovely holiday weekend. Erm, yes, that's usually called an inversion. I was just staring at the haze hanging over the valley, and the thermometer at the back of the house was reading 98°F (36.7°C) the last time I looked. We may be in one of the many microclimates, up on the hotter side of this mountain, but still. It's one of those days that I don't see how people can stand to wear not-exactly-traditional garb to avoid arrest. I may be running around in a sports bra for the same reason, but it ain't leather.
This is another illustration of why I try to avoid television news. Besides the general recent refrain of "never mind Iran, you should be worried sick about avian flu and amorphous pedophiles". Obviously, avoiding it hasn't been working too well lately.
The weather has also provided a better illustration of exactly why so many elderly people keel over from the heat every year: they're apparently not feeling it. At the moment, my Mamaw is sitting in a room without air conditioning, only having removed today's thick chenille cardigan because my mother was forced to yell that she was trying hard to keel over with heatstroke. It must be some of the recent medication causing this; even anemia from not eating enough to sustain a toddler wouldn't account for all of it.
Yep, I'm a little frustrated. I've stayed here longer than I'd have ever considered necessary, mainly to give my parents a little respite. It's still hard to believe the shape my grandmother is in, and I'm the only one present she'll halfway listen to (it shocks her when I play drill sergeant, enough that she'll usually get a little exercise or eat a few bites more). This condition is not just an aggravated version of the pumphead she already had, it is most likely a result of oxygen deprivation. The lady has very little short-term memory, is severely depressed, and seems to be trying to cover up some form of aphasia. (I have no idea what she is seeing when she stares at the newspaper every morning, but she does not seem to be able to read and make sense of other things.) The OCD symptoms have gotten a lot worse since her GP switched her back to sertraline from paroxetine--we decided to go back to paroxetine this week, filling up her pillbox. She has become even more fixated on the idea of dropping dead if she even tries to walk down the front steps, and she absolutely refused to get up and go see the cardiologist this past Wednesday. (Tempting as it may seem, physically dragging her there did not appear to be an option.) Given that she certainly has the willpower to manage a collapse, pushing too hard does not seem wise. Passive resistance is working all too well.
The situation is pretty upsetting--and I don't see how my parents have been coping for the past year or so--but I don't think my staying here is actually improving things. It has gotten to the point that Mamaw's behavior quickly goes downhill when I so much as mention going home or she sees me talking to Ingvar, and that is not good at all. Recognising it is probably a help. (Erm, yes, she just came in here and so subtly sat down to interrogate me about whether I'm talking to Ingvar now--at the risk of sounding unpleasant, the aphasia is actually convenient at the moment. Privacy is something nobody has been getting around here for a while.) It may seem unfair to my parents, but I guess she'll just have to put on a show. It's been way too long, and I need to go home. Holiday or no, I think heading for the Delta counter is a good plan for tomorrow.
Ah, the fun of conflicting responsibilities!
I did not actually intend to rant here today--please excuse me. Something good has come of the enforced stay. I have been forced to recognise exactly how loud the critical voices inside my head tend to be, the result of previously killing only half the snakes. That hasn't been doing me, or![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vatine, any good, with at least half my energy eaten up by talking to myself in a way that would swiftly land anyone else in a shallow grave. Dealing with that situation was well overdue. Having to notice it once I could no longer keep myself running off nervous energy here was surprisingly beneficial. This has been an, erm, interesting retreat--and research trip--in general, but it's about time for it to end.
Edit: Now (18:32 EDT) there is a little shade, so it's a balmy 94°F/34.4°C out there. I hadn't heard the Celtibillies before this local PBS appearance; they're not bad, if a little low on the bluesy influence.
This is another illustration of why I try to avoid television news. Besides the general recent refrain of "never mind Iran, you should be worried sick about avian flu and amorphous pedophiles". Obviously, avoiding it hasn't been working too well lately.
The weather has also provided a better illustration of exactly why so many elderly people keel over from the heat every year: they're apparently not feeling it. At the moment, my Mamaw is sitting in a room without air conditioning, only having removed today's thick chenille cardigan because my mother was forced to yell that she was trying hard to keel over with heatstroke. It must be some of the recent medication causing this; even anemia from not eating enough to sustain a toddler wouldn't account for all of it.
Yep, I'm a little frustrated. I've stayed here longer than I'd have ever considered necessary, mainly to give my parents a little respite. It's still hard to believe the shape my grandmother is in, and I'm the only one present she'll halfway listen to (it shocks her when I play drill sergeant, enough that she'll usually get a little exercise or eat a few bites more). This condition is not just an aggravated version of the pumphead she already had, it is most likely a result of oxygen deprivation. The lady has very little short-term memory, is severely depressed, and seems to be trying to cover up some form of aphasia. (I have no idea what she is seeing when she stares at the newspaper every morning, but she does not seem to be able to read and make sense of other things.) The OCD symptoms have gotten a lot worse since her GP switched her back to sertraline from paroxetine--we decided to go back to paroxetine this week, filling up her pillbox. She has become even more fixated on the idea of dropping dead if she even tries to walk down the front steps, and she absolutely refused to get up and go see the cardiologist this past Wednesday. (Tempting as it may seem, physically dragging her there did not appear to be an option.) Given that she certainly has the willpower to manage a collapse, pushing too hard does not seem wise. Passive resistance is working all too well.
The situation is pretty upsetting--and I don't see how my parents have been coping for the past year or so--but I don't think my staying here is actually improving things. It has gotten to the point that Mamaw's behavior quickly goes downhill when I so much as mention going home or she sees me talking to Ingvar, and that is not good at all. Recognising it is probably a help. (Erm, yes, she just came in here and so subtly sat down to interrogate me about whether I'm talking to Ingvar now--at the risk of sounding unpleasant, the aphasia is actually convenient at the moment. Privacy is something nobody has been getting around here for a while.) It may seem unfair to my parents, but I guess she'll just have to put on a show. It's been way too long, and I need to go home. Holiday or no, I think heading for the Delta counter is a good plan for tomorrow.
Ah, the fun of conflicting responsibilities!
I did not actually intend to rant here today--please excuse me. Something good has come of the enforced stay. I have been forced to recognise exactly how loud the critical voices inside my head tend to be, the result of previously killing only half the snakes. That hasn't been doing me, or
vatine, any good, with at least half my energy eaten up by talking to myself in a way that would swiftly land anyone else in a shallow grave. Dealing with that situation was well overdue. Having to notice it once I could no longer keep myself running off nervous energy here was surprisingly beneficial. This has been an, erm, interesting retreat--and research trip--in general, but it's about time for it to end.Edit: Now (18:32 EDT) there is a little shade, so it's a balmy 94°F/34.4°C out there. I hadn't heard the Celtibillies before this local PBS appearance; they're not bad, if a little low on the bluesy influence.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-28 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:17 am (UTC)