TerryJ2
Well-Known Member
My life is so weird.
This morning, P called my cell ph to ask me to bring along the black, formal French dress she gave me. She said it was hanging out of the right side of my bottom dresser drawer and she saw it when she was here 2 wks ago for a tea party. (I threw a birthday party for my 90-yr-old friend, Catherine.)
People, I have 15 steps.
No way did P walk up those steps.
Plus, she had a caregiver, E, who would have never brought her upstairs to use the restroom.
Plus, I don't have a black, formal French dress.
And if I did, I would not leave it hanging out of my dresser drawer.
I left a msg for E, who returned my call and told me P told her the same thing and no, they did NOT go up 15 stairs during the tea party or at any other time.
So, today I took P to her talk therapy session.
Somehow, we got to talking about difficult child (oh, I remember, my cell ph rang and I jumped because I thought it was difficult child, wanting to come home early from school with-a cold. Mean mom, mean teachers, every one is sick, so we made him stay. He's already missed 3 days and cannot miss any. I mean ANY. It is a huge liability.) Anyway, it wasn't difficult child but the conversation went that way and the therapist continued talking about difficult child and resources, and routines, and systems, and how it sounds like some things are working and some are not, and I have to take time for myself ... it got to be over 1/2 hr and finally the therapist said, "Well, the reason we're talking about this so much is because, with-your permission P, because I know it's confidential, P said that she is worried about you and all the stress you're under."
"And I don't want to be a burden," P added.
"Have I been complaining a lot?" I asked.
P said "No, I am very worried about you."
Alrighty then.
I can't help but be amused. She's going through rehab and I can't believe half the things she says, incl "a man in a white hat" who pushed her down when she first go to VA, and a black, formal French dress in my dresser, and then she remembers to tell the therapist that she's worried about me.
Very sweet. I think.
Now I have to be careful about what say to her. I mean, I've told her way too much, just chatting, thinking she'd forget it all ...
This morning, P called my cell ph to ask me to bring along the black, formal French dress she gave me. She said it was hanging out of the right side of my bottom dresser drawer and she saw it when she was here 2 wks ago for a tea party. (I threw a birthday party for my 90-yr-old friend, Catherine.)
People, I have 15 steps.
No way did P walk up those steps.
Plus, she had a caregiver, E, who would have never brought her upstairs to use the restroom.
Plus, I don't have a black, formal French dress.
And if I did, I would not leave it hanging out of my dresser drawer.
I left a msg for E, who returned my call and told me P told her the same thing and no, they did NOT go up 15 stairs during the tea party or at any other time.
So, today I took P to her talk therapy session.
Somehow, we got to talking about difficult child (oh, I remember, my cell ph rang and I jumped because I thought it was difficult child, wanting to come home early from school with-a cold. Mean mom, mean teachers, every one is sick, so we made him stay. He's already missed 3 days and cannot miss any. I mean ANY. It is a huge liability.) Anyway, it wasn't difficult child but the conversation went that way and the therapist continued talking about difficult child and resources, and routines, and systems, and how it sounds like some things are working and some are not, and I have to take time for myself ... it got to be over 1/2 hr and finally the therapist said, "Well, the reason we're talking about this so much is because, with-your permission P, because I know it's confidential, P said that she is worried about you and all the stress you're under."
"And I don't want to be a burden," P added.
"Have I been complaining a lot?" I asked.
P said "No, I am very worried about you."
Alrighty then.
I can't help but be amused. She's going through rehab and I can't believe half the things she says, incl "a man in a white hat" who pushed her down when she first go to VA, and a black, formal French dress in my dresser, and then she remembers to tell the therapist that she's worried about me.
Very sweet. I think.
Now I have to be careful about what say to her. I mean, I've told her way too much, just chatting, thinking she'd forget it all ...