This is not crazy. This is brain cells dying!

     She’s crazy.  This is nuts making.  At one in the morning, duty calls.  What is going on?  I woke about 12:20 AM and noticed a light coming from the living area.  My exhaustion has become so mind-numbing I had gone to bed before 7PM.  Hearing the TV come on  (I could hear it from the living room) I remembered Dr. Phil was doing a segment on mail order brides so I turned my TV on low and listened, sleepily through most of it.  I know the TV was off and I was asleep by 8, but became aware that Maxine was in her room and had turned the TV  off by around 8:45PM.  Note:  I realize I am becoming obsessive about identifying AM or PM.  It appears I am the only one in the house able, consistently, to distinguish that.  Anyway, I had fallen back asleep, but about 1 AM I just had to go check on her.  I come around the corner, and, yes, there she is, sitting in her chair reading, and dressed in a fresh new outfit.  (At least, in the seven plus months, now, that I have been here, it is new to me.)             Yawning, I sit across from her.  “Are you aware of what time it is?”  “I wasn’t.  I usually get up about 6, but now it’s after 12.”  “It’s usually light out when you get up, right?”  “Yeah, but I couldn’t stay in bed, anymore.”  I, (the truly crazy one), try a little logic and reasoning, a bit of math (that’s the marker of absolute insanity) regarding the hours of sleep and the hours of darkness yet ahead, and we end the match with her telling me to go to bed and get some rest; she’s doing what she wants:  reading.      Having gotten to the point (maturely) of saluting, and stiffly walking into the bathroom, where I repeated to myself several, several (need I count out several?) times, “this is not my battle, this is not my war, and I will not allow this to stand between me and my destiny”, I calmed.  This last I got from Joel Osteen two or three Sundays ago, and it has helped me immensely.  I need intense help.  I’ve told you, briefly, about the cancelling.  My tools need to be the best, for my battle is, for me, a tremendous one.        You may be shaking your head, wondering “what’s the big deal”.  Likely you have forgotten one of the battles I have mentioned to you already I deal with.  Well, deal with is probably a little self-congratulatory on my part.  If ever you’d like to get a grip on the importance of regular, sufficient sleep on human beings, attend a couple of support groups for bipolars and their assorted loved ones.  ‘Nuff said?  Probably not.  To my way of thinking, Maxine does not remain in bed long enough as it is.  I made a brief allusion in an earlier post to a similar spate of odd hours kept when I told about the wedding incident.  It is truly nightmarish, to me, to think this may become routine for her.  As she put it, “I don’t know what my brain is doing to me.”      I really was thinking (for the very briefest of moments) “she’s crazy”.  Then I remembered what I have become convinced of, despite the other nonsense I was told.  This is Alzheimer’s.  It’s the beginning (at least) of the second stage.  She’s not crazy.  This is brain cells dying.
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