Birthday boy here. I had a pleasant wake-up this morning with the wifey-poo waking me up very gentle, saying happy birthday, and handing me a birthday card. It said "A little wish that's short and sweet, Happy birthday..." And inside it said, "Now when do we eat?" "Love, your wife, AKA Teresa." With it was a new washcloth, my favorite kind with exfolliating netting on one side.
She said when I brought the card to Easterday, not to tell everyone that all she gave me was a washcloth and card, because she also gave me a long-sleeve Western cut, snap up, duel pockets, tall man's, plaid, insulated shirt, which I dearly love.
Whoever reads this and was at my "drop in" party this past weekend, thank you for coming by. Every year gets better, I hope.
I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open. Good night.
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| Here's my younger days... |
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| Here's my new birthday shirt, which I am very fond of. |
Teresa, did you write this? My parents had dementia and were unable to write..hmmm...
ReplyDeleteI typed it for him as he dictated it. Of course, I always have to initiate it and suggested what he could write about. He tried typing the first blogpost, but it took him a long, long time. And he got too impatient with it.
DeleteHe can still write and read to some extent, but even that seems to be declining some. For instance, it takes him longer to finish reading a book. And he doesn't do his cryptograms any more. Plus he used to address cards every week for those who can't come to church (only about five of them), but now he just signs the inside card, leaving me to do the addressing.
Dementia and brain injury both seem to be pretty individual. Our brains are one of a kind, I guess. ;-)