The mail -- all I wanted to do was to pick up the mail. JD is always chastising me for not paying his bills on time, so I just wanted to pick up the mail.
But no, John Dear needed to go to the bathroom, so he asked if we could get the mail after coming home from our afternoon outing, not this morning's outing. I said yes, but thought aloud that if he had his keys, he could just go up himself. And I could get the mail.
JD fished his keys out, but let go of the wheelchair and it went wheeling away with him in it while he got his keys. Then, he started lagging behind me. I asked what was wrong, and he said, "you try to walk with keys held between your toes and see how fast you go."
So, I took the keys from him and we went in the building and pushed the button for the elevator. He said, "where are you going?" "Upstairs," I replied. "No, you're not," he said angrily. So I went to get the mail while he went upstairs to our apartment.
After getting the mail (1 plea for donations from the Humane Society, no bills), I got upstairs to find JD halfway down the hall slowly making his way to our apartment. When he got to our front door, I called out, "I'm here." He said, not really sotto voce, "Go away."
I reached out to hold the front door open and he yelled at me that he was using the door to help pull himself over the threshold. When I replied that I had been afraid that he would squeeze his fingers between the door and the jamb, he said that that was what was happening now that I had interfered. After struggling for a little, he said, "just push me in, OK?" I said that I was sorry, but of course, that makes no difference now.
So I did and he's not talking to me and not looking at me. When I inquired if I could help him with anything or get him anything or if he just wanted to be alone, he said, "just leave me alone."
So now I'm on my laptop in the living room, and he's on his computer in his cave, and we were supposed to meet his parents and nephews for lunch, but who knows when that will be or if he will even go now because he's so mad.
Why didn't I just forget about the mail and just go upstairs?
Sunday, October 14, 2007
It All Comes Tumbling Down
Labels:
Depression,
John Dear
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