Yesterday, I had to pinch hit for my middle sister and looked after my dad (97, dementia), my mom (96, almost chair-bound), my aunt (at 94, the youngster), and my BIL (basically, he tries.) From 7:30 to 4:30. I must have been totally delusional, bringing all my knitting projects and envisioning a cozy afternoon, knitting, tea, lalala. Lalala for sure. There is nothing quite so frustrating and maddening than a parent (or any person) in full-blown dementia. I know that many of you have gone through, or are going through this painful experience, and my heart is with you. I now believe that my sister has super powers. I do not. By the time I straggled home, I was exhausted. Too exhausted to remember that we were in for a Nor'easter last night.
Fast forward to 11P, when the wind took on locomotive sound effects and the rain (what I could see through the gloom) was horizontal. Then the power went out. Tough nuggets, I was back to bed. When I awoke at 3A, the lights were back on and I went around (foolishly) and reset all the clocks. Then I made a cup of coffee, sat down with a book and the lights went out. Will I ever learn? The storm was still in full force, so I should have known. I felt my way into the blackout supply area (back bathroom with it's glowy new toilet) and snagged three of my favorite solar light sources.
I sat back and listened to the storm, snugged Slimmie next to me and watched the blanketed enchilada dogs on the couch. It was surprisingly peaceful.
The dogs, bless them, trudged out to do their business twice - we tried to time it in a lull. Lull meaning the rain was no longer horizontal. I went out when it was light enough to see and spent 20 minutes gathering buckets and other small objects that were all over the homestead. I also watched the crows, who seemed to be having a ball, flying into the wind and hovering in place.
The drive into work involved dodging floods, branches, large limbs and whole trees. I checked the rain gauge as I left and we already had four inches of rain! It was such a relief to reach the parking garage! Now I am off for home and the fall town rabies clinic. After yesterday, three hours in a huge, cavernous metal building with no heat, filling hypos as fast as my little fingers can move, surrounded by an endless and frantic stream of barking dogs,screeching cats and hysterical owners, will seem like a walk in the park.