dreams of autumn

I dreamed last night of my dad, he wanted to get the wood in for winter, and I wanted to wait until closer to Christmas, then the unusual warm fall turned to winter in one day. As it does some years. I dreamed of my friendand artist Adriana Meiss, who passed a few years ago, she was having a big party and all there was to eat was chocolate chip bisquets and she was living in a big old whi8te Victorian house, not the half hoarded one she actually lived in, in the country. I was stuffing the bisquets in my mouth and they were so fluffy.

In the morning I wake and I am as always barely on time, but along the way the sky was first on fire, then painted in hues of peach and blue and that grey lavender of the clouds; the sun was a fluorescent red on the horizon and nearing work a paintbrush slash of a rainbow, then a double.,

Am I doing, are we doing the right thing by my mom? Always a refrain in my mind these days.

She insists we are not and garners allies against us. Well meaning relatives. Who aren’t here. And suspicious cousins, who are here for nefarious reasons, like a plot in a bad Lifetime movie. And friends who are likely being friends and saying oh honey you are fine.

I hearby grant my friends the right and courtesy of honesty if my child is indicating that I have dementia please listen to her. I trust her implicitly.

But we have seen things, heard things, and are concerned about some very serious changes.

More on this later.

Also Rainbow image is on FB go check it out.

Meg Gregory

mgregoryyartist on insta

or breezydayhanmades on etsy

andbreezydaybymgregory i think on the Tok

links to follow.



You know when a woman(person) is in labor and goes through transition? That place between pains and and birth action? This transition period is a time when the woman is done with everyone’s shit. Kind of like the crone period of a woman’s life… This is where we are in the world of dementia.

A year ago my mom was diagnosed with some kind of cognitive impairment. The stories began to repeat not every visit, but throughout the visit. A loop of 15-20 minutes, there were other changes too, when the alarm was sounded, it became our mission to manage this disease, to get everything in place and make sure my mom could stay independent as long as possible.

The steps we take to make this decision are not done lightly, it involves hours on the phone, reading, research, doctors appointments, tests, and modifications. And there is nothing simple about getting someone who has no short term memory to understand and to remember to understand why we are doing these things. Add in a heaping portion of stubbornness, some mild narcissism and whatever other personality issues a person has, next you add in your own power and control issues, your own trauma, and your own personality issues, and now you have utter chaos. Chaos intermixed with fear, lack of knowledge/comprehension, and love, and anger and whatever other natural emotions a person feels and you have a cup of vinegar and some baking soda ready to go.

I feel lucky that I have my brother, sister, and daughter, my cousin is a free radical and although he is physically helping my mom he is making things so much harder because he is not on the same page, nor is he in the same book, the reasons why are up for debate, is it love? desire for an inheritance, stupidity/drug and alcohol addled brain who knows. But its a mess.

There is so much grace in handling this alone. I cannot fathom how it feels to deal with these things, without someone to help you, to listen. And on this front I am so lucky too that the social worker at geriatric doctor is not only dealing with this in her own family, but is super helpful with resources, advice, and just being a sounding board.

I need a space for this, and if anyone else is dealing with this issue of dementia, feel free to reach out. If you are on your own or fighting a free radical/lone electron, Please comment. If you are not ready to talk, Like and subscribe. Maybe we can find some common ground.

…change the pebbles of our puddly thought to orient pearls.