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| This is what it looks like in my brain |
I’ve been fighting with the neighbors.
No, really. I’m fed up. I have no filter left. I spend so much energy making sure that we are self sufficient, and by that I mean ME-sufficient. I would rather give than receive, and I would rather poke a fork in my eye than to ever ASK for help.
Decades of having high expectations, both put upon me, and self imposed, has left me with a strong aversion to neediness, and it has served me well.
The past year has been like the stock market on a downward trend. Bruce passed out and had a little seizure just over a year ago. I think he might have had another, or maybe a small stroke about 2 weeks later, and he was stripped of most of his abilities to do things for himself.
Now, one year later, he as regained some of the abilities he lost, but not all, and he is mostly unable to speak. He has also begun to get overwhelmed or overstimulated if we leave our house.
It began in small, random events that caused me to stop leaving him alone, even for a short time. Then he began to get confused, like he would look around and begin to panic because he could recognize nothing. It’s like everything is just sometimes gone. It’s terrifying for him and for me, and the only help for it is to get him back home and let him sleep.
I have to hold him and soothe him and tell him that he is safe and that we are home and have everything we need, and that I will never, EVER leave him alone. Only reassurance overload will bring him back, and then we have two or three days of exhaustion. He hardly gets out of bed. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, and he wants me to be there with him.
I have learned that it is OK to check no boxes. No progress is made. No productivity happens. And the world didn’t end. My one job is to keep that look off of My Love’s face. I
t’s difficult to describe, that look. It’s something like how your face would look if you woke up suddenly and your bedroomroom was a blazing inferno. And when I see it, all I can do is ride the snaps and crackles in my brain until I figure out how to put out the flames for us both.
It began to force a change when he could no longer wait in the waiting room while I visit my doctor. Twice now, he has been calm and totally cool when asked if he was OK to sit and wait for me. Then I come out of the office to find him shivering and trying to get outside. Won’t be doing that again.
It really got my attention when we went to the local hospital to try to find the office of a neurologist, because his doctor no longer comes to our town, and it is just not possible to take Bruce to a town that’s an hour and a half away.
So we get directed here and there in the small hospital, until Bruce begins to spiral. He’s short of breath, and dizzy and feels weak. I brought him to MY doctor’s office and we sat there as I tried to soothe him. My doctor finished with a patient and came out to check on us. He took Bruce’s vitals and found the low blood pressure as usual, and decent blood oxygen, but he still said he thought I should take him to the ER.
I assured him that this was normal and the ER would not help. I just need to get him home, and I can’t walk him to the car because it is too far, even in the handicap parking. I can’t leave him to go get the car, so I asked if they had a wheelchair. Yes!
My doctor’s wife wheeled him to the curb and waited with him until I brought the car around. We got him into the car and he was feeling a little better by the time we got home.
The next time was at the grocery store. I have been ordering meals from a lovely woman in the next town over. She brings the order ever Sunday. We get most of our groceries via Walmart pickup. I order online and we pop over and back. Easy peasy. But with Bruce’s appetite and inability to eat certain things, I’ve had to try to find things he likes, and some of them can’t be ordered from Walmart.
So we went into the neighborhood grocery store and I was just getting started when he got that look. Normally he’s happy to push the basket. It helps him if he can lean on the cart. Not today. I ran to get the motorized basket and sat him down. I worked the controls standing next to the cart, but he continued to deteriorate. The panting, the wild eyes, and even a full sentence burst from his lips! “I want to go home NOW!”. He hasn’t produced a complete sentence in months. We’re going home now.
The most recent event was a trip to Walgreens for vaccines. There were five people in front of us and I could tell Bruce was beginning to worry. I asked how long it would be and told them we weren’t going to be able to wait.
That was a couple of weeks ago. Since then, we have only had one Walmart pickup, and now, I’m even ordering delivery for our prescriptions. We have been outside in our back yard with a short walk to the clubhouse twice, one of which caused a panic. We have walked to the mailbox twice, both times with his walker. He pushes it to the mailbox, then we convert it to a seat and I roll him back.
Then he goes to bed for the rest of the day. I bring his dinner to him in bed, and we have breakfast in bed most days.
We don’t see anyone. We don’t talk to anyone. Our lives are small. As long as we don’t leave the house, we have some pretty good days. But I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t know how many more disruptions he can take. I’m not sure what we’ll do next time we need an oil change…
So what has all of this to do with fighting with the neighbors. You’ve stuck with me this far, let’s get back to the reason for this personal headspace dump that my blog has become.
Our building has six units. We are on the end. In the past six months, there have been three sold and all of them are doing MAJOR renovations. Tiles removed from floors and walls. Central AC installed which requires trenching concrete walls. Complete removal of kitchen and bath fixtures, and installation of new everything.
Our buildings are made of concrete. I can hear it if the person 5 condos down is hanging a picture on their wall. We can’t hear an argument going on right next door unless the windows are open, but tap that concrete and we all hear it. Just imagine how demolition sounds.
The imagine how it sounds when three new owners are playing row-row-row your boat demolition in a rousing and continuous round. For months. Then imagine how your husband with dementia is disrupted and frightened every time a new sound travels through the walls and into our safe space.
And then imagine that you can do nothing about it but just deal… except for Sundays. No demolition allowed on Sundays. Most of the time we don’t even know what day of the week we’re on, but when that noise begins at 8:35am, I’m looking at the calendar.
So this past Sunday, they were at it again. I send a message to the administrator asking him to please get them to stop. He ignores me. I ramp up. Remember, I have no filter and am taking zero BS because I’m living five minutes from panic on the daily.
Let’s just say that my tone may have been offputting. And when I got nowhere after 3 hours and they were still rattling the foundation, I went down there with my video rolling. A woman was coming out of the apartment and I asked her (In mad Spanish) if she was the owner. No, she was a friend. She asked if I was taking video, I said yes and she clamped her mouth shut and disappeared into the apartment next door.
I called through the open windows for the workmen, but they did not come out. I went back into my apartment, now becoming that crazy Karen, out of control and just wanting it to stop. I posted on the community chat that the board and administration were doing nothing, and that they told me to call the police.
I called the police!! They came right over. We had a very nice chat outside of the offending apartment. The police knocked on the door. Silence. The police said there was nobody there. I assured them that while I was letting them into the gate, the walls were shaking. They’re in there. But they aren’t coming out.
Another kind neighbor came down and we chatted a bit more, but basically, the police can not enforce the Bylaws of our condo, and really can do nothing on private property unless someone breaks the law.
So our administrator was just kicking my can down the line so that he could enjoy HIS Sunday. Well not unless he put his phone on silent, because I texted him every time I heard a noise, and even sent video.
At this point, I had lost my mind. My face was wet with tears of rage, and my eyes were practically swollen shut. Poor Bruce was just trying to understand, and kept rubbing my arms and wanting hugs. It was a complete shit-show.
Eventually the sound stopped, and did not start up again. But our day was pretty much ruined, and I was exhausted. We went back to bed, and when I finally came to my senses, I was somewhat embarassed at my behaviour, but not entirely.
Rules are rules damnit!
So, Monday, I was still feeling like I had been run over by a truck. This is when I found out I could order my prescriptions to be delivered. Hallelujah! I can stay in this nightdress for another day! I think this is my third, and yes, that means I haven’t had a shower in three days. Don’t judge.
There was no construction noise, but today, Monday, the maintenance guy is out there with the weed whacker and the blower. I can’t even go into that. I just can’t. But later in the evening, I go out to meet the UPS man, and I notice that my driver’s side car window is shattered.
Something happened in my mind. The UPS guy asked me how I was doing and I quietly told him that I just saw that cracked window on my car. He was appropriately supportive and I took my package back inside with a strange quiet in my head. Like zombies were crawling out of the dirt that is my brain kind of quiet.
I didn’t even tell Bruce. I just quietly sent an email to the administrator that this is the second time I have had that window broken by the weed eater, and I have asked that the man NOT break my windows. I have fake grass that needs no whacking, but the guy does it anyway, and the edges are now threadbare and in need of replacing the whole grass, yes that is on my to-do list!!!
My yard lights are knocked off their sticks and are laying on their side on my threadbare fake grass. There are rocks and sand deeper than the grass where the yard man has blown shit onto my “lawn”. It has been an ongoing battle. If he could just keep the F#&k away from my fake grass… he would not need to blow shit at my car and break my window. AGAIN!!
I told the administrator nicely, none of the above got out. I told him nicely that I would like for someone other than me to pay for the $300 window replacement THIS TIME. And I went to bed.
Late on Tuesday I get an email asking simply. “Did you call the police to get a report?”. Oh, and it had to be done on the day of the accident.
I wanted to vomitt. Nobody mentioned a police report the last time the guy broke my window. There is no crime. There will be no charges filed. There is no mystery, it’s on my security camera. So I sent a short and scathing reply, and turned once again to the Community Chat.
Long story short, the neighbors were not helpful or supportive. I’ll leave it there for fear of stroking out.
The neighbor who was talking to the police with me was very kind. He buoyed my spirits and talked me off the roof. We had some laughs and talked shit about the little clique and how we were going to take back our community… Nothing to make one feel better than a little plotting.
Then later in the evening, I get a message from a neighbor woman whom I wasn’t even sure still lived here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. Granted, we never leave our house and she’s on the other side of the courtyard, but I digress…
She asked me if I needed anything at the grocery store, and offered to pick up anything we need.
First I cried. Then I decided that I could not accept the help.
Then I thought about those Jimmy Dean breakfast biscuits that are so easy to fix and how much Bruce likes them and how they never have them in stock at Walmart for pickup, and how I hadn’t been able to get them the last time we went to the grocery store because Bruce had a meltdown…. and how we had eaten our last two that very morning.
And then… I thought about the THOUSAND times people had wisely advised that I need to be taking care of myself and ask for help if I needed it.
And I decided that it was time. I need help. And my reluctance to accept help is not worth taking another trip to the grocery store with Bruce, just to see if he whigs out again.
Maybe she was surprised that I said yes. Maybe she was sorry she had asked. But maybe it makes other people feel good when they can help someone, just like it does for me.
I told her what I needed, and that there was no hurry, just whenever she was at the store, grab the sandwiches. And tonight, just as we were shutting things down to go upstairs for that overdue shower, she texted me that she was at the grocery store. She found the sandwiches I had asked for, and she brought them to our front door at 9:30 pm. (long after we’re normally in bed, but I had taken Bruce up to bed already).
I went outside and took the bag while handing her a little gift. I cold not go without giving her a little something in return. She hugged me, and we had a conversation, mostly in Spanish until I told her how much I appreciated the help, and how hard it is for me to accept help, then the my throat closed up and the tears came.
She hugged me again. A real hug. Not an air kiss kind of hug. It was a hug that surely had her smelling my 3 days since last shower BO, but I didn’t know how to sty that in Spanish. I just have no words, in any language, to express how grateful I am t have such kind people as neighbors.
She told me some other nice things and seems genuine in her offer of help. I won’t abuse the priviledge but I will keep it like a warm ball of happiness in my heart that I can take out and marvel at when I’m feeling overwhelmed.
We said our goonights and I brought my precious breakfast sandwiches in and filled my freezer with them. Now happy to have a hoard of emergency food. And happy to have renewed faith in the goodness of people, I celebrated with a long warm shower.
I’m feeling pretty good as I spill this all out before I sleep. But I’m still pissed off at those other people. Sadly, you can push me around all you want, but when it threatens the wellbeing of my beloved, I come out fighting like a tiger, and that’s not going to change.
I’m not sure how I’m going to get that window replaced. Probably have to call in another favor. Oh Kim, are you busy???
