I think most people can say that. It's just that mine is so uniquely weird. It's wonderful too. But weird. I like that weird is a weird word. Is that weird?
Somebody asked me at the U of Oregon interview: what are you doing these days? Everybody else is either doing research, in graduate school getting their masters, or doing some sort of clinically related work. I could, of course, say that I'm doing a case study on a long-term relationship health and dysfunctional marital communication patterns. Which, weirdly, wouldn't be entirely false. But I am living with my grandparents and selling shoes. Which, weirdly, is kind of a sweet answer. Nobody else could say that.
Anyway, I woke up to discussions of constipation and missed medication. Grandma hasn't pooped for 7 days I was informed at 9 am. I asked Gramps if she's been taking her meds, to which he said no. Grandma said she had. Well, as it turns out, she's been taking one of the three she's supposed to when she gets real irregular. You can guess where this conversation/argument started to go. I do take them she says. No you don't he says. I am still waking up with my first cup of coffee. Grandma admits upon further questioning by me to that she doesn't want to take all of them- they taste terrible (she also used "Goddammit" as an adverb- weird). She started to cry- I just sat next to her holding her hand. She mentioned something along the lines of just wanting to be done with all of this. That is wanting to die.
I just held her hand.
I think this is mostly what she needs: a blend of confrontation and hand holding. How exactly to do that is the million dollar question. It's just a weird time. W-E-I-R-D. But I give thanks everyday for the blessing of a healthy body, mind, and spirit. And really, when you think about what life really is...it's all kinda weird.
This was the weirdest post I've made.
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