A Bowl and a Half

I'm really tired. 

Really loud music blaring out from a student party a few houses away.

The drum beat drumming into my chest.

My heat drumming faster when I think about my husband and the sugar lumps this afternoon.

The care worker  from the walking group says he ate a bowl and a half of sugar lumps in the cafe when they stopped for tea. She and the other care worker couldn't stop him.

She says to me he mustn't eat so much sugar.

He says sorry....doesn't know why he did it....says he can't promise not to do it again.

I ask him to try. Then we talk about something else - how much he enjoyed the walk and the lemon  drizzle cake I'm making to take to the ACIM workshop I'm going to at the weekend.....which he won't be able to eat.

I feel as red inside as the flaming tulip.....burning up with the unanswerable question of control.

I phone a friend with experience. She says he wouldn't want to do it if he didn't have dementia....so it's more a question of helping him by controlling the environment  - not controlling him.

 Because it's so late I can't work it out any more...too tired and sad to be loving and good tonight....