Standard clothes chosen? Check.
Bathroom stop completed? Check.
Fingernails trimmed? Isabel, get a grip.
Ah, Tuesdays: My Weight Watchers® weigh-in day. After a few years of slacking off, I’m “back on program,” as we say, and feeling slightly aggrieved. It seems I can’t eat as much as I’d like, do as little as I’d like, and be the size I’d like. What’s with that?
As a Lifetime Member, I figure I’ve heard everything that can come up during a meeting, so I don’t usually hang around for it. Today, though, after weighing in, I do. Call it an impulse.
Call it another impulse that leads me to lean forward and speak casually to the person sitting ahead of me as we wait for the meeting to start. Call it something else that leads them to turn around and, after a few niceties, speak from the heart to the person sitting behind them.
Long story short, their spouse has Alzheimer’s. After four years as the primary caregiver, 24/7, the knot tied at the end of their rope is unravelling.
But not to worry, a spot in long-term care should be available in just three years.
I have no idea how we got to this point as a society, nor whether the individual in question has done everything they could or should to help themselves.
I just have the idea that everyone I meet is carrying around some secret sorrow, and some are bearing an unbearable burden because they have no way to set it down.
I myself can’t eat as much as I’d like, do as little as I’d like, and be the size I’d like.