Enmity… I won’t hide it. I had to look the word up. According to a Google definition search it is “the state or feeling of being actively opposed or hostile to someone or something.” It is not a word I had heard before, at least not that I remember. And trying to write a poem seemed pretty bleak for this word. So how to mumble about enmity?
There is the “easy” way out and pick on the current government… but I don’t claim to know enough about politics to write a post on it. There are a few somethings I could say I had enmity towards… cancer, dementia and alcoholism to name a few. But I am dealing with enough medical talk while I take care of my father and I just did a post about my alcoholic ex.
What to write… maybe it is that I write nothing? Hostile is not a state of mind I usually get to. I tend to stay pretty quiet and pretty neutral. So maybe this is just not a word that should even be in my vocabulary.
When I first saw it I thought of amity or enemy. I don’t really have any enemies that I know of. And “Amity” is the name of an Oak Ridge Boys song from one of their many albums I have. Sadly there is no video of the song I could share.
Here I sit with nothing more to mumble about except I appreciate each of you making it this far in my random writing. I guess this was more of a stream of consciousness post. Maybe you too have learned a new word today. Maybe I just ate up some of your day with nonsense. Either way, my words are done.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – enmity
Most people hear the word metamorphosis and associate it with a caterpillar turning into a beautiful butterfly. I hear it and it triggers a countdown in my head. “One, two, three, it’s me,” were the words magician Doug Henning and his assistant would say during his metamorphosis trick.
I don’t know why this trick stays so sharp in my memories, but Doug Henning may have been one of the first magicians I saw do such a trick. He puts his assistant in handcuffs, tied up in a sack, locked into a box, jumps on top, lifts a curtain and says, “One, two …” and then lifts the curtain above his head. As it almost instantly drops the count continues, “three, it’s me!” being said by his assistant now atop the box. Doug then is released for the locked box.
Doug Henning was a magician of the times in the 70’s. Referred to by some as the hippy magician with long hair and brightly colored costumes; he was not the usual magician all dark and serious in suit and tie. He was smiling and fun. I will admit to a little bit of a crush on him… maybe that is why I remember the trick so well.
For those of you not familiar with Metamorphosis here is a video of it. One, two, three, enjoy!
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – metamorphosis
I don’t know what to write and I am not afraid to admit it. Revenge is the prompt I am working on and I tried many a lame sounding poem. I am drawing a blank on fiction. But I can usually babble about anything. Revenge is not something i have ever really pursued. I guess I believe what goes around comes around. It is not my job to “police” others, so I don’t. So while I feel I can’t really approach revenge with the attention it does (or doesn’t) deserve… I can mumble.
It is now a new year and I hate that I am starting it off still behind. I had two appointments yesterday so I never had a chance to visit WordPress at all. But things are progressing with my Dad and we are looking into palliative care. It should help fill some of the times he is currently by himself and it will provide for a nurse once a week to visit him.
Next week he finally gets to the wound clinic to have the sores on his legs looked at. With diabetes they are just not healing and I don’t have the medical background to know how to properly care for them.
Our current struggle is trying to get him to wear a cpap mask at night so he doesn’t lose oxygen overnight. It starts out ok, but maintaining the mask overnight is more difficult. Hopefully he will one day get used to it.
Now is the time to go to Dad’s for the night. Last night of my “work week” with him. And I am looking forward to the time to sleep without interruptions tomorrow night. I will try my best to catch-up before the end of the month. Happy blogging everyone! (((HUGS)))
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – revenge
I am not sure how much more of this I can handle. So far (I guess) I have been stronger than I thought I could be, but this is really hard. The stress level of caring for a parent can be high just in general, but add dementia to it and it becomes so much harder to handle. Last night was a fair night, but the night before was bad. He thought I was his brother (come on… I know they hacked half of my breast off with the cancer but I am not THAT flat chested and I swear the whiskers are plucked daily!) and he was sure he had to work when he has been retired for 15 years.
I think the hardest part of the dementia is him not seeing me as his daughter. I have been his brother, my sister, my mom (who has been gone 8 1/2 years now) and just another one of the caregivers. He sees things and hears things. At least a dozen times now he has talked about others in the room when it was just the two of us.
What I am beginning to worry about is what this is doing to me. Just how detrimental is all this stress on my fibro, depression and anxiety. I know the fatigue levels have been off the charts (maybe some of that was the holiday stress added in too) but I am more achy and have not been able to shake the sciatica pain. Anxiety meds both day and night, where I used to only take them at night. And an intense feeling of wanting to just sit and cry (doctor says the antidepressants keep me from crying when I need to…it is a really weird feeling).
I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Rely on my past record of making it through tough days as a sign I will get through the next one. And hope I am doing something good for Dad. I am doing what I can to help him stay in his home. There may come a point in time though when it is too much for me and we will have no choice. In the meantime I rest when I am home and trudge through the mire of dementia to try to find my Dad every night.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – detrimental
If I could draw a caricature of a person, heck if I could just draw… My daughter got the artistic gene. I can kind of create with words what I want to say most of the time. But this prompt of charicature has me stumped. We can make eyes that twinkle, or doe like eyes, eyes as blue as the sea or rich chocolate brown that you melt into. But what do you say about a nose; a cute little button nose, a ski slope launch, or as big as a potato. A mouth you can make kissable, thin lipped or botox swollen. Rosy cheeks or sunken hollows. A square jaw or cleft chin. These things are all descriptive, but do they portray a caraciture?
So just for today I will dream I can draw more than stick figures (although I have recently seen some pretty well defined stick figures – thanks Michael). I will imagine an extra large head on a pretty buff body, bald as can be, green eyes with flecks of BS brown, somewhat pouty lips and the smallest of half a smile. That’s my best friend. Oh and don’t forget to draw a bong with a bowl full – his prefered state of medication. That is my caricature today.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – caricature
Cartoons are not the same. As a kid growing up your choices for cartoons were pretty limited. We did have a local weekday show for kids that would run some cartoons, but mainly it was waiting in anticipation for Saturday morning to arrive when we could sit in front of the TV all morning and watch cartoons. Now you have a very limited amount of Saturday morning cartoons to watch, but there are a couple of cable channels that offer round the clock kids programing.
My favorite series has to be Looney Tunes. Then it is a tie between Bugs Bunny and Marvin the Martian. Bugs is one smart little rabbit and always seems to know how to manipulate things to his advantage. Marvin is shear determination and yet somehow makes me feel sad for him… “Where is the kaboom? There was suppossed to be an earth shattering kaboom.”
I have seen some of the “new” cartoons and they are not bad. I know when my daughter was little we would watch Rugrats, The Powerpuff Girls and Spongebob pretty regularly. And has always been the case, the best cartoons are those that throw in a little adult content that just flies right over the kid’s heads but makes mommy and daddy laugh.
Yeah, I think kids today lose out on that anticipation of waiting for Saturday morning cartoons. The world is instant now with episodes a few keystrokes away or the push of a few buttons of the remote. I think that anticipation made my generation appreciate Saturdays a little bit more. What was your favorite cartoon?
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – cartoon
Relative is the word I am working on today… I’m not quite smart enough to address the theory of relativity. Not feeling a comparison post where it is all relative. But I can talk about a relative of two.
I have mentioned my Dad’s failing health and just yesterday evening I got a call from his caregiver and he had taken a fall. Shot my heart right up into my throat and I drove there as soon as I could. Luckily he did not get hurt other than a scrape to his elbow.
Now I live about 15 minutes away so I had called my sister to get there to try to help lift my Dad up off the floor, as she is less than 5 minutes away. It just amazes me how two siblings can be so different. She is a wiz with handling Dad’s finances, but when asked to sit with him for a short while… I get back a “I am not a nurturer like you.” It is her Dad… how hard can it be to just TALK to him for a half an hour or so.
This fall and his two hour wait on the floor (he had his cell phone, but couldn’t figure out how to use it) for someone to get him hits my heart hard. I don’t know how much more I can physically and emotionally do. My sister said on the way out, “Might not be able to stay here much longer.” And a part of me is afraid she is right. I hate the thought of putting him in a nursing home, but am afraid he needs more care than assisted living would give him.
This makes me think of my grandmother who took in her own mom and took care of her in the end of her life and still kept the books for my grandfather’s business and ran the household perfectly, still having time to volunteer at the church even. How could she do all of that and I am having troubles just making it through the nights?
I love my Dad and hope and pray he can stay home a little while longer. But fate may have other plans. Do you have a relative you care for? It is tough job, and I am learning not everyone can do it.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – relative