Thursday, March 31, 2011
Yesterday was an interesting day. Bompa came into the kitchen and asked me what was going on in our community. I said "nothing new, why?" He said "well there's something going on. My brother Bill (who is deceased) sold me a brand new car and the keys are missing. They were right here on the radiator, but now they are gone." I relied, "I haven't seen any keys and the last I knew you had given up driving." He argued that he owns a car. Jim walks in and Bompa says "I gotta talk to Jim." Jim walks over to him and Bompa starts weaving his tale. According to him, Jim's friends were all shot dead in our backyard and then put into the trunk of Bompa's "new car". Then the car ended up in the water in New London. Bompa is worried sick because the registration in the car is in his name and the killers might be able to trace it back to us because Jim's name is on it too. Jim tries to tell him that everything is okay and his friends are all fine but Bompa won't have it. I try again to tell him to trust me that there is nothing to worry about. Bompa turns to Jim and says, "well there was anote with the keys that are now missing and it says not to trust anybody, especially your wife!" Jim chuckled and headed to the shower. I tried to go along with Bompa's story at least enough to say the registration was changed out of his name when we sold his car so it won't be traced back to us. He seemed to calm down a little after that. As I was making dinner it dawned on me...Bompa had fallen asleep with Walker Texas Ranger on TV, and the headphones on his head. He must have been dreaming and hearing the dialogue the whole time. From now on we're sticking to the game show network, cuz nobody gets shot in those shows!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Haven't posted in a while because the stories are so crazy I can't remember the details long enough to write them down. Bompa's mind is going 100 mph and what comes out makes no sense at all. The theme fr allof today's interactions has been digging a hole. When I went in at 9 am to get him up and have his breakfast, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over the seat of the wheelchair, covering the seat with both hands. He was also counting out loud...1 1000, 2 1000, 3 1000. I asked him what he was doing and he said you need to dig a whole right here. I said "why do you need a hole right here in the seat of the wheelchair?" "I just do," he said. I told him we needed to eat breakfast before we could dig any holes. He went to the bathroom, and came out to eat. He asked me how I was was. I said, "I'm fine." He asked how the bullet hole was healing. I said, "um I don't recall being shot so I guess it's fine?" He told me he shot me in the shoulder and the bullet was gold plated so I should dig it out and melt it down and inside I would find the diamonds I wore on my wedding day. I said, "ok, here, eat your banana." Then I went to do the laundry. When I checked on him later, he was asleep in his wheelchair but was bent over clearly digging a hole in his sleep. I gently woke him and asked what he was doing. He said, "I'm digging a hole." I asked, "why?" He said because the Dr told him to dig the hole. I said, "well, why don't you take a break and watch tv for a while." He said, "you better check my blood sugar, I've been working for a while now." I said, "I think you'll be fine, especially if you have an ice cream." He said, "oh boy, that sounds good." So he had an ice cream and immediately fell back to sleep. I wish there was some kind of rhyme or reason or pattern to the chaos in his mind. But in the meantime, I'm just gonna hide the shovels.