Tuesday I worked from home. When I had some spare moments, I called Laguna Honda and Adult Urgent Care with questions about C. and what might be possible for him. Laguna Honda offers long-term care and said that there is not actually a long wait to get in there. I also found out that C. might already have a primary care provider assigned. I will need to call Medi-Cal about that.
After work, I went to C.’s to help him with his papers, which he has mentioned several times lately. I found things not all that disorganized, but did some sorting and piling, and then we went to Papalote for burritos. As we walked home, I apologized for everything I could think of—the things I didn’t do that I wished I had, and vice versa, and C. didn’t seem to understand most of it, but of course listened patiently. Of course I cried while doing this.
When I got home, I went upstairs to visit Tom and said I’m kind of worried about the time C. might need, assuming he’s having a serious medical situation and given that my job is relatively new. I don’t want to put it in jeopardy, but Tom pointed out that I’m not the first person to be in a child care or elder care situation.
I noticed that some moments Tuesday I didn’t think of C. at all, and at others I did, but could feel the basic OKness underlying everything. However, at other times, I felt devastated: he’s going away, one way or another. It’s extremely painful in and of itself, but it also feels deeper in some kind of way. It feels as if I’m three years old and my mommy is going away. C. doesn’t look or act much like anyone’s idea of a mother, but I think he manages to push some of the same buttons.
Yesterday I worked from home again and got an email from a friend who had to manage the affairs of her brother (my friend P., who died a few years ago). What she had to say, including stuff about getting power of attorney, sent me into a minor panic, but then I started making calls and looking things up, and felt calmer.
After work, C. came over with his bag full of papers from his desk. He is in quite a dither about his papers. After awhile, we left the house and tried to figure out where to eat. We had a conversation that consisted of the same few questions over and over: where did I want to go? Did I have any place in mind we haven’t been before? Over and over.
Finally I steered us to Esperpento, and after a very prolonged conversation about what to order, I ordered for both of us, including things C. has liked in the past, and I enjoyed our meal but felt a little guilty about all the salt, in case C. has indeed had a stroke.