2014.09.10

Last night there was a gas leak around my bus-stop and MW had a petite panic attack. All the streets were blocked so she couldn't drive in to pick me up. She was close to hysterical when she called my cell phone, worried where I was and if I was okay. Not a big deal - I was able to calm her down, tell her to park someplace and wait for me to walk there, but I was alarmed when she'd told me about how she'd approached the police asking for information. She said they hadn't been helpful and she was quite angry with how they were handling the situation.

Had I not been able to talk her down, that could have turned bad quickly. The HD dementia flairs brighter when MW is upset and that type of behavior probably wouldn't go over very well with the cops. I do a good job keeping MW even-keeled when I'm around, and, as much as possible, prevent her from having to deal with disruptive situations when I'm not, but when external forces like this come into play....

***

Small triumph this weekend. As you know, MW makes me visit her father once a week because he's old and she wants to make sure he's okay. Of course she doesn't want to see him herself because she's afraid he'll say something negative (which he will) so she hides under a pile of jackets in the back seat of the car while I go in and check up on him. Usually this only takes a few minutes, and I leave the windows down, so it isn't like I'm locking the baby in a hot car, but this weekend the old man wanted me to drive him to the grocery store.

Quick on my feet, I told him I couldn't do it now, but would return in a few minutes. Then, as I was driving MW home so I could drop her off and go right back, I was able to convince her that hiding under a pile of jackets in the back seat of a hot car is not only ridiculous, it is also inconvenient for everybody involved in this farce.

So that's good, for as long as it lasts anyway. MW has a tendency to backtrack on these types of things.

***

And I had another incredibly petty triumph that day. See, I don't have a high regard for my father-in-law. I understand he's a different generation and all that, but his attitude towards HD is... negligent. At best. He'll yell and complain about MW's behaviour - just as he did his own wife when she was suffering - then he'll bring up a story he'd read about how a woman with HD killed her child but couldn't be held responsible for the murder because of the disease.

Dude. You tell me this story then bitch about how we never gave you grandchildren? Just because you're an octogenarian doesn't give you the right to be that fucking stupid.

Anyway, I got some satisfaction from driving him to the local Indian grocery store. It has been my experience that whenever I go into an Indian grocery store, I'll be the only white person there. More than that, I'm a fairly big white guy, so it's hard for me not to stick out. The attention I get when I enter the store makes me feel about as welcome as an INS agent looking to fill a quota. I suppose this will sound terrible to those who haven't personally experience a mixed... race? no, let's call it a mixed cultural relationship, but MW usually tells me to wait in the car when she shops at the Indian grocery and I gladly oblige. Neither of us really likes that type of attention.

And I could tell my father-in-law would have preferred me to wait in the car, too. He jumped out and hit the door without even waiting for me.

Ha!

I followed him in and stuck with him as he did his shopping. Oh, I could tell he was uncomfortable with me being there! Twice I was approached and asked if I needed help. "I'm with him," I'd say, pointing at the old man.

Yeah, I can be pretty small for a big guy.