Sitting at the counter trying to figure out how to start this blog, I heard the door open tentatively. I was certain what was going to come next and I was not disappointed. She emerged with her pants off, granny panties, skinny legs, cheap slippers... "I need sleeping pills..."
I put them in her room two hours ago.
She has taken them and forgotten.
I have to hang tough. "I already gave them to you."
"I didn't take them"
"I can't help you." But I can tell by the slurred speach that she has already taken them.
She turns slowly and walks back to her room. The door closes.
It has taken months to get to this point. She used to fight me. Somehow she learned that arguing didn't help.... that I wasn't going to change my mind.
She'd accuse me of judging her, of trying to deny her the pills. She'd threaten to make notes next time and keep track. All the while I just had to hang tough because the pills were killing her. She'd take some, forget, take more, forget, take more ... then there was the call in the middle of the night and we'd have to go over and pick her up off the floor. I saved one of the phone messages in case I forget.
But what kind of life am I saving? Is she happy? Would I be happy? Is this the right thing to do?
I feel awful. She is lost in her own head. It must be terrifying to not remember what happened five minutes ago, to constantly have to wonder where everyone is and ask over and over. The insecurity must be awful.
She self medicates to make it easier. She doesn't understand why she is so sad or scared. She just knows she feels bad. She misses her husband. She misses her father. She misses where she used to live, but I really am not sure where that is.
She spends much of her day sleeping yet she is afraid that she won't sleep. But she does. And she sleeps soundly. She gratefully accepts the wine I give her saying it will 'calm her nerves' but there is no alcohol in the wine.
But it tastes good and comes in a pretty bottle