BillandBob.com

It’s beautiful today — sunny and 64 — and Bill and I walked to lunch together. When we got home, I should have taken a nap. We stayed up too late watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy last night and I’m tired. But instead I checked messages.

I had voice mail from Sarah declaring angrily that:

I’m having a Kitty Litter Emergency and I need transportation Right Now!

and a text message from Mom asking:

Who has title to granmom’s car? She is having snit. Please advise. Mom

I tried to call Gran’mom but she didn’t answer, so I called Mom instead. Mom said that Gran’mom had run her blood pressure up and among other things, asserted that I had abused her power of attorney to transfer her car title to my name. Mom reassured me cheerfully that she surmised that Gran’mom was confused.

I reckon so. Last week, Gran’mom asked me (and Chris and Sharon and Mom) to help her find an attorney who could “straighten out her car title” and get it transferred from Florida. When I explained that she moved to Texas in 2000 and she didn’t buy this car until 2006 and it was automatically titled in Texas, she said “I’ll try to believe you.” I encouraged her to write herself a note to help her remember. I think she wrote the note, but I’m not sure it helped.

I tried Gran’mom again and got her. After an excruciating conversation in which I was more indignant than helpful (did I mention that I’m tired?), and argued unsuccessfully that wanting a different litter box is not an “emergency,” I eventually elicited Sarah’s explanation for the car title issue:

Because I had trouble using my car title card on Saturday

After I said I didn’t understand because there’s no such thing, and she asked why I think I know everything, and I asked if she meant her driver license, she continued:

I was trying to cash a check at Target, but maybe they make everyone stand on their head

Actually, Target’s store policy is not to cash checks. I expect that the cashier explained that Saturday. But by Monday, the fact that she was unable to cash her check was best explained in Sarah’s head by the supposition that I had secretly retitled her car.

Huh.

I think there’s still a part of me that can see that as really funny. But most of me finds the mishmash of confusion and paranoia really unsettling and exhausting. Lack of trust and annoyance are becoming pervasive themes in our conversations. When she asks whether she took her meds, and I explain that we went to the nurse station ten minutes ago, she says “I’ll try to believe you.”

Part of me empathizes with her plight. How hard is it to accept what others tell you when your senses tell you something different? How frustrating must it be — after decades of being smart and perceptive — to suddenly have people challenging your perception of reality?

The other part of me wishes she would know/trust/acknowledge that I am being good and honorable and helping her faithfully. Unfortunately, the very impairment that makes her dependent on this arrangement prevents her from appreciating it. I need to trust that I’m serving her well no matter what she says. But when I’m tired, I struggle not to take her frustration personally. I guess it’s time to take some deep breaths and go get a little more sunshine.