DEMENTIA CARE: DOWN.

The upcoming blog entry on text messages is, once again, delayed. I’m having one of those days. Not a bad day. Just a bad day, late in the day. So here I am, typing about a day that isn’t even over yet.
   Some days are better than others. This was one of those days. Improved mood. Better mobility. A few obstacles behind us. Time to take it easy. What was I planning on doing? Tidying rooms upstairs.
   Yes, a break from dementia care. Having the time and energy, and being in the mood, to deal with a complex re-arrangement of…
   Pauses to count bookcases.
   Three.
   Damn it.
   Four.
   Okay. Three in one room. One on another floor.
   Having the time and energy, and being in the mood, to deal with a complex re-arrangement of…four…bookcases and many other bits and pieces leading to the back of one room. With that out of the way, I could tidy the entrance to another room.
   To even get started on that project, I had to fix up a few items here in the office. And I fixed all that stuff. It was all good. Time to check up on the cared-for, to see how things are going. Not so great.
   A downturn, late in the day, just sapped all my strength. I switched back to full carer mode. After saving some energy for non-carer stuff upstairs, I found myself spending that energy in a different slot-machine.
   Luckily, the Carer Slot-Machine was surrounded by equipment, plans, schemes, and the flexibility of routine. Create a carer routine, organically, gradually. And then have the smarts to throw that routine out of the closed fucking window when you have to step right into the raging maw of being a carer and act flexibly.
   I deal with the unexpected all the fucking time. It’s still unexpected. I have the energy to deal with this crisis, that catastrophe, and an important phone call that goes off as the crisis makes way for the catastrophe.
   Right now, tonight, with the sun setting, I’ve temporarily run low on energy. I am down. A quick break to check up on the cared-for and I am back. An extra coffee should see me through until supper.
   Details.
   I really don’t have any details for you. Let’s just say I had to take care of a load of different things, and I went into full random flexible territory. Keep rolling through it, and don’t let it overwhelm you.
   Prioritise. Deal with things in bite-sized chunks. Fix a thing. Grab equipment. Fix another thing. Move stuff out of your way. Check this. Adjust that. Make sure of the other thing. Find time for yourself later.
   Well, okay, it is later now. I fucking needed that coffee. My plans changed. I’ll move those bookcases eventually. The main task there is to shift the bookcase downstairs back to its proper resting-place upstairs.
   Why sit here and write about it? My nerves are sparking away, and I have this text message blog on my mind. But that is still too fiddly to fix up. I have three years to go, in terms of copying text messages over from the low-tech phone to the high-tech computer.
   Two years, and the tail-end of messages this year. Again, I find myself halfway through the month and I can’t quite bring myself to finish that particular blog project. So what am I doing here, right now, out of energy after a near-perfect day.
   A day is near-perfect when it is near-perfect. But when it trips up on its own shadow as the shadows lengthen, it drops away in the perfection stakes. Leaving me here, at a loose end. I have supper to arrange. The work of a moment.
   And until that moment passes, I crawl slowly in the direction of that moment. I am not there yet, and won’t be there for a million years. There’s a blog post that I can’t bring myself to finish, so I have to put something out this month…
   This is it. And I won’t be waiting until the last gasp. It’s now. The time is now. I felt lacerated by the weight of being a carer. Yes, a very heavy rock landed on me, and its sharp edges took their toll.
   My task tonight is to use typing as a distraction, recharge, recover, and carry the fuck on. I am aiming for 1,000 words. What to do when you are down? Find something. Doesn’t have to be great, or profound, or anywhere near meaningful.
   I could stop typing and start moving furniture. Ah, the exciting life of a carer. The day started with the slashing of a large cardboard box. That cardboard recycling bin is empty, but not for long. I worked my way through a dozen tidying jobs of varying intensity and duration.
   It’s been a busy week. Friday has nothing to do with that. For many, Friday is the start of a break. But for carers, the breaks land when they land. Right now, this means no daycare and no respite – except for critical cases, bless ’em.
   So we’re in a different landscape, now. The break is an extra coffee, and not a half-day off. Respite is lying down for half an hour in the afternoon, guesstimating that no carer-based phone calls will come through, and not a week free of routine.
   My internet just rolled over and took a break. Not that I was using it for anything. I haven’t finished typing this, obviously. My future self hopes to use the restored internet to post this absolute nothing of a blog post while it is still Friday.
   And, just like that, the internet is back.
   Also, just like that, a quick trip to the bathroom informs me that I need to clear a drain. It’s a minor drain-clearage. But it is still a drain-clearage. I’ll kick my way through this stint of writing and then take care of an internet-based thing that just popped up.
   And THEN I’ll tackle the bathroom issue.
   Well, what do you know. There you are. A thousand words. Feeling down. Will feel better in a second or three.