Yet another PSA from our Spiky. And, thank you.
Too long and only marginally related, but it IS medical and not related to bariatric surgery:
I had to do SOMETHING that wasn’t running around cleaning up behind MrSue.
I show “signs of aging” on several fronts. The ones that bother ME most are losing a word or my place in a sentence. And occasionally forgetting something I did. (When reminded, though, I recall. I haven’t…yet…entered that “I’ve-never-said/done-any-such-thing” stage.)
My hero, however, has a SERIOUS gap in Executive Function, thanks to one or more Silent Strokes. The last time that
I lost my cool was when MiniSue took him to the Ophthalmologist last week. I had been nagging him to go because he can’t see shit. (He’s supposed to be the one in this relationship who can’t hear; I’m the one who can’t see.). So
yes, of course, he was going to need new glasses. But once the doctor told him he couldn’t see because of a cataract, the
reasonable thing to do would be to put the glasses on hold and schedule the cataract surgery, right? (Because his vision would be changing post-op.)
But HE cannot think that flexibly. In his mind, he couldn’t see, so he went to the doctor for an Rx for new glasses. Well, first, this guy doesn’t DO refractions; he sends you to the optometrist. I set him up with the MD so that we could rule out any OTHER PROBLEMS causing visual issues. And I
told him that. But he couldn’t see well, so he just wanted to get glasses. He told the doctor he’d need to talk to me re surgery, but right now, he needed to go to the optometrist.
And it isn’t just big stuff. It’s all day, every day. At some point, we decide to nuke a potato and asparagus for dinner. He’s standing closest to the asparagus, so he’s about to put it in the microwave. I point out that the potato will take longer to cook and will stay warm while the asparagus cooks. But if we START with the asparagus, it will get cold while the potato cooks. He just cannot think that far ahead. Simple stuff.
Yesterday, MiniSue’s boyfriend came to help him demo a wall. As soon as they arrive, MrSue positions himself to perform a one-man task, leaving Boyfriend sitting here wondering WHY he was here. I had to go tell MrSue that
since we had a helper ready to start working, RIGHT NOW would be a great time to do the parts that required TWO workers. He, of course, was pissed at my micro-managing him. But anymore, I need to, almost all the time.
He’ll be 70 in November. At that time I’ll be 2.5 months shy of 76. I think we’ve got this senility thing back-asswards.
I’m exhausted.
(My vision is GREATLY improved, but not back to normal.)