Memory and The Snowblower

I came into the house about 10 minutes ago from an errand.  Bo was in the kitchen,  mail in front of him,  going through it.  I took mine and began opening a box I received.  Bo helped me open it then went into the front hall.

I followed and he asked, “Did we get the mail today?”

“We just opened it together.”  He walked away.

His memory is getting so much worse.  So is his hearing.  Or maybe it’s his processing. But the combination of the two makes me feel as if I’m living in another dimension sometimes.

About an hour ago  I said to him, “I’m going to the post office.”

“You’re going to the foot doctor?” he asked in response.   We’ve had many of these strange, unrelated conversations lately.

The television news simply doesn’t stay with him.  Each time we’ve turned it on since Saturday,  it seems the story of the Arizona shootings is being discussed,  and each time,  Bo is surprised.  At lunch today when a reporter was talking about the funeral of the 9-year-old girl who was killed,  he said,  “What’s that all about?  I didn’t hear anything about it.”

So I explained what had happened.  This is perhaps the 10th or 15th time I’ve explained the shootings, and each time it’s new again.  I’m sure he’ll ask me again later today.

And ten, perhaps twenty times today I’ll respond to his question: ” Are the cats in or out?”

The Snowblower

Luckily,  we had some snow this week again because it gets Boris out of the house doing exercise as he shovels and sweeps.  The fresh air is so good for him, plus it gives him a purpose.

But there’s a snowblower story to go with this weather.  After the last snow storm,  I sent the snow blower out to be tuned up.  When it was brought back,  the delivery man reminded me that there is gas in it now,  but “don’t forget that you have to mix gas and oil or you’ll damage the machine.”  A bell rang in my head.

I had made sure we bought gasoline for it a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t know about the 2-cycle oil.  The red can sat on the workbench in the garage.

“Did you add oil to the gas in that can?”  I asked Bo.  He had no idea if he did or not.

So there I was with 2 ½ gallons of gas and didn’t know what to do next.  I emailed Vlad who made suggestions.  I poured some into a jar but didn’t know what I was looking at –- what does gas with or without oil look like?  Finally, with two hours to go before the snow was predicted to start on Tuesday, I headed out to our car service shop with the gas.  “Can’t tell by looking, “ one of the mechanics said.

So I left the 2 ½ gallons at the shop and went off to Home Depot where I bought a new 1-gallon container and 2-cycle oil, then bought new gas,  brought it home and labeled it.

The snow came and went,  the sunshine came out,  and the snowblower sat.  Bo cleared the driveway with a shovel, and a neighbor did our sidewalk.  But I’m ready in case there’s another storm and he decides to use the blower.

As I’m sitting here at my computer,  he just opened the front door and checked for mail again.

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3 Responses to Memory and The Snowblower

  1. charlotte guarino says:

    Patience, my dear. What more can I say.

  2. Mimi says:

    Dearest Nancy,

    You are in my thoughts & prayers!
    Love,
    Mimi!

  3. Kathy Mercer says:

    God gave love and patience to the right person.

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