I was told recently that the dynamics in my home may shift a bit…I’d hardly notice it. Yeah, I didn’t feel Loma Prieta either, but then again I was in Illinois when that small shift occurred.
I now have a 75 year old toddler, who on most days assumes that I’m a nurse at the hospital, wonders when they created a policy of allowing employees to offer accommodations to patients. Followed by “when am I going to get out of this hell hole?” Occasionally there are pet names dolled out to me…”hey, what’s your name?” “What a Bitch” or the “Who died and left you in charge?”
Countless hours have been consumed looking into resources. I begin explaining what I’ve found available only to hear a new set of demands. Every day is a new crisis, unknown, drama.
Just two short months ago, I was a mild mannered, easy going individual. Because of this small shift in the dynamics, I no longer sleep, have a uncontrollable twitch, and the patience span as short as the short as my children’s attention spans. After weeks were spent visiting many senior assisted living sites, conferences held, insurance agents notified, I heard the statement “why is everyone implying that I am moving anywhere…don’t they know it’s IF I MOVE.”
At least with the “Big One” it only lasts a few minutes, you watch for aftershocks for a short time, then you rebuild. With this small shift, everytime you think it’s safe yet another aftershock jolts you back to reality.
