It’s Thursday, so don’t forget to pray for Jo, her students, and the people of PNG.
Anyone else?
Psalm 119:113-120
113 I hate double-minded people, but I love your law. 114 You are my refuge and my shield; I have put my hope in your word. 115 Away from me, you evildoers, that I may keep the commands of my God! 116 Sustain me, my God, according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed. 117 Uphold me, and I will be delivered; I will always have regard for your decrees. 118 You reject all who stray from your decrees, for their delusions come to nothing. 119 All the wicked of the earth you discard like dross; therefore I love your statutes. 120 My flesh trembles in fear of you; I stand in awe of your laws.
Carol’s potassium levels came back normal which is good news. Although now I wonder what’s triggered this major phase of paranoia in her? At least she’s getting herself to the dining room for meals again. She apparently ran out of all the junk food she had stashed in her room.
Thanks for the update on Carol, DJ. I wonder the same — if her potassium levels are fine, what’s behind the paranoia? Hopefully the test results weren’t inaccurate (or inaccurately reported). I’ll certainly keep praying for her.
NancyJill, how is your grandson who had the repeated seizures? And Kare, any news on B, or whether there’s a donor match?
I would appreciate prayers for my dad, and for my mom as she copes with Dad’s decline. I also have a question about something that seems strange to me that perhaps one of you with medical knowledge or experience dealing with family members who’ve had dementia may be able to answer.
My dad turned 88 this week. I called him on his birthday — around 7:00 pm — and Mom answered the phone. After we talked for about 10 minutes, during which time she talked about, among other things, Dad’s dementia (a bit of a surprise to me), I asked to speak to Dad so I could wish him a happy birthday.
She said he was sleeping on the couch, and she kind of hesitated, and wondered out loud whether she should wake him up or let him sleep. But as soon as she said that, she decided it would be better if she woke him. So she did.
When Dad came to the phone and said hello, while my mind was still filled with “Dad has dementia?” (he has gotten more repetitive over the past year or so with things he says, but it seemed more like normal aging than anything — older people like to talk about their favorite things), I wished him a happy birthday, wondering to myself how he would respond.
Does he remember it’s his birthday? Does he know how old he is? Etc., etc.
Well, his voice was a little groggy sounding — not surprisingly, since he’d just awoken — but he responded well, with a thank you, and a how are you?, and an expression of gratitude that he’s made it to his 88th birthday. He joked he’s not quite as old as some biblical figures, and I commented that he’s got a little ways to go to catch up to Methuselah, and he laughed heartily at that.
Very reassuring — his sense of humor was still intact, he was able to carry on a little conversation with complete awareness…
…except that only lasted about one or two minutes.
After that, when he started “waking up” more, he slipped back into the same things he always says: “We have the best family in the world. [Cries.] We have no ________, ____________, or ___________ like other families do. We know some families who [fill in the blank with bad things others choose that aren’t the case with our family]…”
He’s talked about that every time we’ve visited him in the last many months, but usually only brings it up once during a several-hour visit.
In our phone conversation Tuesday, however, which lasted only about 10 minutes, he must have said those very words I quoted above at least half a dozen times in that brief time.
The contrast between our conversations on his 87th and 88th birthdays was stark. Even the contrast between this phone conversation and when we saw him a few days after Thanksgiving this year was noticeable.
Here’s what I thought was so strange, and what I’d like to understand better, if anyone can explain it to me:
His “groggy” brain, during the first couple minutes of our conversation after he woke up, was appropriately responsive and normal-seeming. But when he became more fully awake, his brain slipped into that endless loop of a conversation. Nothing I’d say would register with him; he’d only repeat what he had just said a minute ago, and say it with such inflection that it was as if he thought he was sharing something for the first time.
It was just heartbreaking.
But, anyway, I was surprised that he was so coherent right after awaking (a time that I, and I think most people, are a little bit “slow of brain,” if you will, until we’re up and more active), and wonder what’s going on in a person’s brain or body that his best time, mentally speaking, is during that time that most of us are a little fuzzy in our cognitive processes.
It’s like his brain function is totally the reverse of what can be expected. Clear when he’s tired, muddled when his body “wakes up.” How can that be?
Sorry for the long, round-about path to my question.
My mom could really use prayers, dealing with this. She told me on the phone, when I asked how things are going at home (she had written in her Christmas card, which we received the day before Dad’s birthday, that it had been a bad day), she said, “Oh, you don’t want to know. But here’s some good news…”
She doesn’t want to talk about how hard things are (she didn’t want to, either, when her mother was dying with Alzheimer’s — Mom kept a journal where she would write about Grandma and how she appeared on her visits, but eventually, the journal entries ceased to have anything about Grandma, only things like the sky is such a lovely shade of blue today, the bird song sounds so wonderful, etc.). She shuts down when things get beyond her ability to cope.
But little snippets of pain punch through the facade now and then. She’s hurting and needs prayers.
Thanks for listening, friends. I appreciate having this place to come to and talk through things.
Keeping all of these concerns in my prayers before our Lord….He knows…He cares…trusting in that knowledge of comfort…. ♥️
Thanks for asking about Michael 6arrows….he had a total of 6 seizures and spent the night in the hospital…they administered anti seizure meds and since he had no more after 12 hours, they sent him home. He went back in as an outpatient and had a battery of neurological tests…our daughter has not been informed of the results as of yet. She said the meds cause a bit of agitation in him, but he is still as sweet and snuggly as ever. thank you for your prayers on his behalf.
I am holding your parents close in prayer….it is a difficult road to travel and so hard to witness…you are good daughter and that is a huge blessing to them…..
6 Arrows – I told Nightingale about your conversation with your dad, & asked her if she’d seen anything like that in the nursing home. She said not that specifically, but said that the effects of the dementia do come & go. She did think it was weird, though.
My MIL could go between being obviously confused one moment, & seeming to have a normal conversation the next, at least closer to the beginning.
Kizzie, I really appreciate that you ran my conversation with my dad by Nightingale. One comment you reported she said reminds me that my best friend has said something similar about her mom — that the effects of the dementia seem to come and go. And like your experience with your MIL, sometimes my friend’s mom seems fine and quite coherent in conversation; other times she is terribly confused. (For example, she said recently that one of her ancestors was named after one of the current residents in her assisted living facility.)
Anyway, perhaps it was merely a coincidence that on that particular day and moment I called him, Dad’s brief clarity of thinking occurred immediately upon waking. In any case, it sure was good to talk to him during that time he was functioning well. He had also recalled in those couple minutes in which states all of his children live (five children in three states, all correctly identified by state). He still knows how many children he has, and their names and where they live. I am thankful for that.
NancyJill, your kind words about being a good daughter are sweet. I have to be honest, though, and admit I didn’t feel like a good daughter, talking to my parents the other night. When Mom said, “Oh, you don’t want to know [about her bad day referenced in her Christmas card],” while I responded she could decide if she wanted to talk about it or not, inwardly I was thinking, with some irritation, “I asked you how you’re doing, that means I do want to know.” And just before she called Dad to the phone, she said what she always says last: “Pray for us.” And I always respond, yes, I’ve been praying. (I also sometimes mention that I have friends praying for her and Dad, too.) But the other night when I told her that I am praying, what ran through my head was, “If you’d talk to me about what you’re feeling instead of saying ‘You don’t want to know,’ I’d be able to pray more specifically.
I struggled to keep the irritation and defensiveness out of my voice (does she think I won’t pray if she doesn’t remind me?), and felt like a not-very-nice daughter for having those thoughts.
The most guilt I felt, though, was after talking to Dad. Less than ten minutes of his repetitive language, and I could hardly stand it — I was looking for any reason to cut the conversation short and get off the phone with him. Mom now probably has to deal with this all day every day, and I can’t even linger 10 minutes to listen to him?
P.S. NancyJill, I hope the tests on Michael help determine the nature of the seizures, and what can be done. Praying for him, and your daughter’s peace of mind.
I did get the email for the administrators when I was visiting Carol earlier this week so I may send them a message thanking them for getting that blood work done but then also letting them know her paranoia has really spiked in recent weeks. Her diagnosis is paranoid schizophrenic, so there’s obviously the underlying condition, but the psych meds usually keep things in check for the most part. This seems to have been an unusual phase and I’m not sure the staff is fully aware of it.
Oh dear 6arrows….that’s just being…well…being. My Mom gets on my last nerve often…(so does my husband but that is another story 😜)….anyway…you are allowed to feel. You honor your parents by biting your tongue and taking the matter to the Lord..and asking Him for patience……choosing battles is wise. I have bitten my tongue so many times I believe it is now misshapened…I still say you are a good daughter ♥️
Thanks, NancyJill. 🙂 I’m reminded often of Ecclesiastes 3: “…a time to keep silence, and a time to speak…” Sometimes I don’t know what time it is, though. 😛
An update on my uncle (Mom’s brother): I reported recently that he was confused by his phone ringing, not knowing what to do. She was afraid he’d declined so far that she wouldn’t ever be able to have another conversation with him again. I asked Mom when I talked to her this week if she’s heard any more about Uncle B.
She said she recently called someone who works at his assisted living place, and the person who answered said, “Would you like to talk to him now? He’s right here!”
So she did get to speak with her brother again after all, which I’m glad of. I asked her how he was doing, what did they talk about, did he seem to know who he was speaking to?
Her answer was a brief sort of vague non-answer — other than making a general remark about liking to talk about the distant past, she really didn’t have anything else to add. I figured that was something else she didn’t want to discuss much, so I just left it at that.
Also, she isn’t able to get any medical information about him from staff because of not having power of attorney. She’s got the phone number of Uncle B’s son who does have power of attorney, but she’s reluctant to call him because apparently he was affected by the hurricane in Houston,Texas this year. It’s a hard situation with Mom’s brother in a different Midwestern state than she’s in, and his two sons in Texas and California. They’re all spread pretty far apart, and it’s hard for anyone to get to Uncle B to see him, for logistical and other reasons.
And I’m not sure Mom really wants to know the extent of her brother’s condition, anyway, when she’s got all the concerns with Dad’s health, too. I think this with Dad is pretty well consuming her.
Which is a reminder to me — thanks for letting me type this out, and for reading it — that I need to be more tenderhearted and less “why doesn’t she tell me what I want to know”-oriented in my thinking.
Kathaleena, if you’re around, you mentioned a book about dementia a while back, which I requested at our local library. They didn’t have it anywhere in our local library system, and, after searching our state database and beyond, the reference librarian told me that there wasn’t any library in the U.S. that could get it for us. However, she did say that she would re-submit the request at a later date, because sometimes there are libraries who have a particular requested book, but they’re unwilling to loan it for whatever reason — often, apparently, because it is new to their library, and they want to keep it local while the circulation is still fairly high. Or maybe because it’s so far away, it would be gone from the lending library for a long time.
Anyway, I am hopeful that at some point, that book will be in my hands, ready to read. I appreciate the recommendation.
6 Arrows, I think we women (especially) are prone to refuse the first request into our inmost thoughts.
Someone says, “How are you? You seem a little sad.” We shrug and say, “I’m OK.”
If the person presses further and says, “No, really, this isn’t like you. Are you OK? What’s up?” and she makes eye contact, maybe squeezes your hand, then it’s time to say, “Oh, this week has been just horrid. My son failed a drug test–he says he had a poppy seed bagel, but I am not sure whether or not to believe him. My mom is in the hospital for the third time in two weeks. I’ve had headaches every morning for two weeks. The electric bill is $60 more than I was expecting, and the property taxes are due, and of course just the day they both came, my husband was told he’ll be getting a paycut next month.” Then you smile wistfully and say, “But other than that, I think I’m OK. How are you?”
When your mom said, “You don’t really want to know,” she might well have been doing that. What I have determined, in wondering why women do that, is that we don’t want to make ourselves vulnerable by saying all that stuff if our friend was only asking to be polite, or maybe she wants to listen but she doesn’t actually have time to do so. So we give a polite, “Thanks for asking, I’m OK” or “I know you don’t have time, and anyway I think I’ll live” to allow her to save face if she can’t probe further, and to keep ourselves from being right to the exact spot that is going to bring the eruption of tears right when our friend looks at her watch and says, “Yikes, well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to pick up the kids in five minutes, and it will take seven minutes to get there! Gotta run–love you!” You then feel foolish and unheard, and if she did hear anything you said, she feels like the worst friend ever.
So we don’t say how we really feel until our friend (or daughter, or husband) asks a second time, making it clear this time that indeed she has time, and concern, to listen.
Good point about vulnerability, Cheryl, and perhaps not wanting to open up if she felt like my asking her how things are going was just a polite follow-up to her remark in the Christmas card, but not the central reason for calling. (If she thought Dad’s birthday was the main reason I called, and that I might want to get to that in short order.)
6 Arrows – Cheryl has a good point, & I have another perspective to add. With all that we have been dealing with since Hubby’s death, I have sometimes kept things from Nightingale, knowing that she is shouldering so much responsibility, very busy with working full-time or close to it now, taking The Boy to his activities, doing a lot for Christmas, as well as some of the things her dad would have done (like getting the snow throwers ready for winter). My feeling has been that I don’t want to burden her more than necessary. Maybe that is how your mom is feeling.
Wandering Views 
Carol’s potassium levels came back normal which is good news. Although now I wonder what’s triggered this major phase of paranoia in her? At least she’s getting herself to the dining room for meals again. She apparently ran out of all the junk food she had stashed in her room.
Continued prayers for her appreciated.
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Thanks for the update on Carol, DJ. I wonder the same — if her potassium levels are fine, what’s behind the paranoia? Hopefully the test results weren’t inaccurate (or inaccurately reported). I’ll certainly keep praying for her.
NancyJill, how is your grandson who had the repeated seizures? And Kare, any news on B, or whether there’s a donor match?
I would appreciate prayers for my dad, and for my mom as she copes with Dad’s decline. I also have a question about something that seems strange to me that perhaps one of you with medical knowledge or experience dealing with family members who’ve had dementia may be able to answer.
My dad turned 88 this week. I called him on his birthday — around 7:00 pm — and Mom answered the phone. After we talked for about 10 minutes, during which time she talked about, among other things, Dad’s dementia (a bit of a surprise to me), I asked to speak to Dad so I could wish him a happy birthday.
She said he was sleeping on the couch, and she kind of hesitated, and wondered out loud whether she should wake him up or let him sleep. But as soon as she said that, she decided it would be better if she woke him. So she did.
When Dad came to the phone and said hello, while my mind was still filled with “Dad has dementia?” (he has gotten more repetitive over the past year or so with things he says, but it seemed more like normal aging than anything — older people like to talk about their favorite things), I wished him a happy birthday, wondering to myself how he would respond.
Does he remember it’s his birthday? Does he know how old he is? Etc., etc.
Well, his voice was a little groggy sounding — not surprisingly, since he’d just awoken — but he responded well, with a thank you, and a how are you?, and an expression of gratitude that he’s made it to his 88th birthday. He joked he’s not quite as old as some biblical figures, and I commented that he’s got a little ways to go to catch up to Methuselah, and he laughed heartily at that.
Very reassuring — his sense of humor was still intact, he was able to carry on a little conversation with complete awareness…
…except that only lasted about one or two minutes.
After that, when he started “waking up” more, he slipped back into the same things he always says: “We have the best family in the world. [Cries.] We have no ________, ____________, or ___________ like other families do. We know some families who [fill in the blank with bad things others choose that aren’t the case with our family]…”
He’s talked about that every time we’ve visited him in the last many months, but usually only brings it up once during a several-hour visit.
In our phone conversation Tuesday, however, which lasted only about 10 minutes, he must have said those very words I quoted above at least half a dozen times in that brief time.
The contrast between our conversations on his 87th and 88th birthdays was stark. Even the contrast between this phone conversation and when we saw him a few days after Thanksgiving this year was noticeable.
Here’s what I thought was so strange, and what I’d like to understand better, if anyone can explain it to me:
His “groggy” brain, during the first couple minutes of our conversation after he woke up, was appropriately responsive and normal-seeming. But when he became more fully awake, his brain slipped into that endless loop of a conversation. Nothing I’d say would register with him; he’d only repeat what he had just said a minute ago, and say it with such inflection that it was as if he thought he was sharing something for the first time.
It was just heartbreaking.
But, anyway, I was surprised that he was so coherent right after awaking (a time that I, and I think most people, are a little bit “slow of brain,” if you will, until we’re up and more active), and wonder what’s going on in a person’s brain or body that his best time, mentally speaking, is during that time that most of us are a little fuzzy in our cognitive processes.
It’s like his brain function is totally the reverse of what can be expected. Clear when he’s tired, muddled when his body “wakes up.” How can that be?
Sorry for the long, round-about path to my question.
My mom could really use prayers, dealing with this. She told me on the phone, when I asked how things are going at home (she had written in her Christmas card, which we received the day before Dad’s birthday, that it had been a bad day), she said, “Oh, you don’t want to know. But here’s some good news…”
She doesn’t want to talk about how hard things are (she didn’t want to, either, when her mother was dying with Alzheimer’s — Mom kept a journal where she would write about Grandma and how she appeared on her visits, but eventually, the journal entries ceased to have anything about Grandma, only things like the sky is such a lovely shade of blue today, the bird song sounds so wonderful, etc.). She shuts down when things get beyond her ability to cope.
But little snippets of pain punch through the facade now and then. She’s hurting and needs prayers.
Thanks for listening, friends. I appreciate having this place to come to and talk through things.
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Amen and amen. Both difficult. Both in His Hands.
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Keeping all of these concerns in my prayers before our Lord….He knows…He cares…trusting in that knowledge of comfort…. ♥️
Thanks for asking about Michael 6arrows….he had a total of 6 seizures and spent the night in the hospital…they administered anti seizure meds and since he had no more after 12 hours, they sent him home. He went back in as an outpatient and had a battery of neurological tests…our daughter has not been informed of the results as of yet. She said the meds cause a bit of agitation in him, but he is still as sweet and snuggly as ever. thank you for your prayers on his behalf.
I am holding your parents close in prayer….it is a difficult road to travel and so hard to witness…you are good daughter and that is a huge blessing to them…..
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6 Arrows – I told Nightingale about your conversation with your dad, & asked her if she’d seen anything like that in the nursing home. She said not that specifically, but said that the effects of the dementia do come & go. She did think it was weird, though.
My MIL could go between being obviously confused one moment, & seeming to have a normal conversation the next, at least closer to the beginning.
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That is how my daughter is.
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Kizzie, I really appreciate that you ran my conversation with my dad by Nightingale. One comment you reported she said reminds me that my best friend has said something similar about her mom — that the effects of the dementia seem to come and go. And like your experience with your MIL, sometimes my friend’s mom seems fine and quite coherent in conversation; other times she is terribly confused. (For example, she said recently that one of her ancestors was named after one of the current residents in her assisted living facility.)
Anyway, perhaps it was merely a coincidence that on that particular day and moment I called him, Dad’s brief clarity of thinking occurred immediately upon waking. In any case, it sure was good to talk to him during that time he was functioning well. He had also recalled in those couple minutes in which states all of his children live (five children in three states, all correctly identified by state). He still knows how many children he has, and their names and where they live. I am thankful for that.
NancyJill, your kind words about being a good daughter are sweet. I have to be honest, though, and admit I didn’t feel like a good daughter, talking to my parents the other night. When Mom said, “Oh, you don’t want to know [about her bad day referenced in her Christmas card],” while I responded she could decide if she wanted to talk about it or not, inwardly I was thinking, with some irritation, “I asked you how you’re doing, that means I do want to know.” And just before she called Dad to the phone, she said what she always says last: “Pray for us.” And I always respond, yes, I’ve been praying. (I also sometimes mention that I have friends praying for her and Dad, too.) But the other night when I told her that I am praying, what ran through my head was, “If you’d talk to me about what you’re feeling instead of saying ‘You don’t want to know,’ I’d be able to pray more specifically.
I struggled to keep the irritation and defensiveness out of my voice (does she think I won’t pray if she doesn’t remind me?), and felt like a not-very-nice daughter for having those thoughts.
The most guilt I felt, though, was after talking to Dad. Less than ten minutes of his repetitive language, and I could hardly stand it — I was looking for any reason to cut the conversation short and get off the phone with him. Mom now probably has to deal with this all day every day, and I can’t even linger 10 minutes to listen to him?
I am so in need of patience.
Thank you all for your prayers.
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P.S. NancyJill, I hope the tests on Michael help determine the nature of the seizures, and what can be done. Praying for him, and your daughter’s peace of mind.
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I did get the email for the administrators when I was visiting Carol earlier this week so I may send them a message thanking them for getting that blood work done but then also letting them know her paranoia has really spiked in recent weeks. Her diagnosis is paranoid schizophrenic, so there’s obviously the underlying condition, but the psych meds usually keep things in check for the most part. This seems to have been an unusual phase and I’m not sure the staff is fully aware of it.
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Oh dear 6arrows….that’s just being…well…being. My Mom gets on my last nerve often…(so does my husband but that is another story 😜)….anyway…you are allowed to feel. You honor your parents by biting your tongue and taking the matter to the Lord..and asking Him for patience……choosing battles is wise. I have bitten my tongue so many times I believe it is now misshapened…I still say you are a good daughter ♥️
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Thanks, NancyJill. 🙂 I’m reminded often of Ecclesiastes 3: “…a time to keep silence, and a time to speak…” Sometimes I don’t know what time it is, though. 😛
An update on my uncle (Mom’s brother): I reported recently that he was confused by his phone ringing, not knowing what to do. She was afraid he’d declined so far that she wouldn’t ever be able to have another conversation with him again. I asked Mom when I talked to her this week if she’s heard any more about Uncle B.
She said she recently called someone who works at his assisted living place, and the person who answered said, “Would you like to talk to him now? He’s right here!”
So she did get to speak with her brother again after all, which I’m glad of. I asked her how he was doing, what did they talk about, did he seem to know who he was speaking to?
Her answer was a brief sort of vague non-answer — other than making a general remark about liking to talk about the distant past, she really didn’t have anything else to add. I figured that was something else she didn’t want to discuss much, so I just left it at that.
Also, she isn’t able to get any medical information about him from staff because of not having power of attorney. She’s got the phone number of Uncle B’s son who does have power of attorney, but she’s reluctant to call him because apparently he was affected by the hurricane in Houston,Texas this year. It’s a hard situation with Mom’s brother in a different Midwestern state than she’s in, and his two sons in Texas and California. They’re all spread pretty far apart, and it’s hard for anyone to get to Uncle B to see him, for logistical and other reasons.
And I’m not sure Mom really wants to know the extent of her brother’s condition, anyway, when she’s got all the concerns with Dad’s health, too. I think this with Dad is pretty well consuming her.
Which is a reminder to me — thanks for letting me type this out, and for reading it — that I need to be more tenderhearted and less “why doesn’t she tell me what I want to know”-oriented in my thinking.
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Kathaleena, if you’re around, you mentioned a book about dementia a while back, which I requested at our local library. They didn’t have it anywhere in our local library system, and, after searching our state database and beyond, the reference librarian told me that there wasn’t any library in the U.S. that could get it for us. However, she did say that she would re-submit the request at a later date, because sometimes there are libraries who have a particular requested book, but they’re unwilling to loan it for whatever reason — often, apparently, because it is new to their library, and they want to keep it local while the circulation is still fairly high. Or maybe because it’s so far away, it would be gone from the lending library for a long time.
Anyway, I am hopeful that at some point, that book will be in my hands, ready to read. I appreciate the recommendation.
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6 Arrows, I think we women (especially) are prone to refuse the first request into our inmost thoughts.
Someone says, “How are you? You seem a little sad.” We shrug and say, “I’m OK.”
If the person presses further and says, “No, really, this isn’t like you. Are you OK? What’s up?” and she makes eye contact, maybe squeezes your hand, then it’s time to say, “Oh, this week has been just horrid. My son failed a drug test–he says he had a poppy seed bagel, but I am not sure whether or not to believe him. My mom is in the hospital for the third time in two weeks. I’ve had headaches every morning for two weeks. The electric bill is $60 more than I was expecting, and the property taxes are due, and of course just the day they both came, my husband was told he’ll be getting a paycut next month.” Then you smile wistfully and say, “But other than that, I think I’m OK. How are you?”
When your mom said, “You don’t really want to know,” she might well have been doing that. What I have determined, in wondering why women do that, is that we don’t want to make ourselves vulnerable by saying all that stuff if our friend was only asking to be polite, or maybe she wants to listen but she doesn’t actually have time to do so. So we give a polite, “Thanks for asking, I’m OK” or “I know you don’t have time, and anyway I think I’ll live” to allow her to save face if she can’t probe further, and to keep ourselves from being right to the exact spot that is going to bring the eruption of tears right when our friend looks at her watch and says, “Yikes, well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to pick up the kids in five minutes, and it will take seven minutes to get there! Gotta run–love you!” You then feel foolish and unheard, and if she did hear anything you said, she feels like the worst friend ever.
So we don’t say how we really feel until our friend (or daughter, or husband) asks a second time, making it clear this time that indeed she has time, and concern, to listen.
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Good point about vulnerability, Cheryl, and perhaps not wanting to open up if she felt like my asking her how things are going was just a polite follow-up to her remark in the Christmas card, but not the central reason for calling. (If she thought Dad’s birthday was the main reason I called, and that I might want to get to that in short order.)
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6 Arrows – Cheryl has a good point, & I have another perspective to add. With all that we have been dealing with since Hubby’s death, I have sometimes kept things from Nightingale, knowing that she is shouldering so much responsibility, very busy with working full-time or close to it now, taking The Boy to his activities, doing a lot for Christmas, as well as some of the things her dad would have done (like getting the snow throwers ready for winter). My feeling has been that I don’t want to burden her more than necessary. Maybe that is how your mom is feeling.
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