I was reminded last night why I no longer drink.
A friend and I went to a movie and then out to dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant. We decided to have glass of wine. One glass of pinot grigio. We shared a salad and a pizza. She had 2 pieces of pizza, I had one.
I came home, it was a little before 9. Walt had the rest of the pizza and I settled in to watch Rizzoli and Isles and was sound asleep in 10 minutes, if that long. The reason I don't drink is that if I have anything alcoholic at night, it puts me to sleep. There is too much I like to get done at night to waste that time sleeping.
What's more, it wasn't a sound sleep. I slept in 2-3 hour increments all night long. I woke up first at 11 p.m. and was going to write my journal entry, but Walt was using my computer, which was just as well. I went to the couch and went back to sleep. At midnight I was wide awake. I thought of writing this then, but decided I really needed to go back to sleep. I did, after putting on Rizzoli and Isles again, I made it further into the show, but only because I fast forwarded to the point I last remembered. Then I was awake again sometime between 2 and 3, then around 5 and finally at quarter to 6, when I gave up and just got up.
I don't blame the wine for more than the first bit of sleep, but it did remind me of why I usually have water with meals, even though I read yesterday that a glass of red wine a day is as good for you as an hour at the gym.
Lisa, with whom I worked in those golden days at Women's Health Associates, and I went to see Still Alice. She has a mother-in-law who has been at Atria for 3 years, my mother has been there nearly 2. Her mother-in-law apparently is not having memory problems, but we both wanted to see this movie about Alzheimer's.
The movie is very slow moving, but given the subject matter, it could hardly be otherwise. It is a quiet movie, watching a woman trying to hang on to memory as it slips away from her. I thought it would be depressing, but in truth it was oddly comforting. Watching the slow progression of Alzheimer's, as it eats away Alice's brain, I could be comforted that this is not what my mother has. Other than the continuing, worsening memory loss, she has none of the other problems, which is a good thing.
Though he finally got his birthday present...
|A reclining folding camp chair|
...Walt had a bad day. His laptop computer died. This is the one he uses for everything, as his desktop is slow, clunky, and connects to the internet via dial up. He is going to call my guru this morning.
I went to Atria to pick up laundry. I had to make two trips there because the first time there was no parking to be had for love or money, so I went to deposit a check and then when I came back, my parking angel was awake and there was one parking place, right across from the door to Atria, which was perfect.
By the time I finished my visit with my mother and got home, it was nearly time to get downtown to meet Lisa.
I just love this lady. I think, if I remember correctly, that she was my primary care provider when I was working for Women's Health. We had such a nice visit, reminiscing about the good days at Women's Health and the people we both love and miss (we must find a way to get together with Lynn, who lives in Ventura).
We eventually got into the world situation, the health problems world-wide (she and her dentist husband go to Guatemala each year to do health care), the critical water problem in so may places in the world, the depressing nature of the news every night. We each bemoaned the inability of one person to do great things, though each of us, in our own way are doing little things. But it never seems enough.
We also talked about the movie, about Alzheimer's, and about the fascinating nature of the brain and how interesting it would be if we weren't right in the middle of dealing with mental decline. I'm convinced, given family history, that I will eventually become my mother. Lisa is worried that she shows signs of early Alzheimer's. But I suspect this is the reaction any of us seeing that movie would feel afterwards, beginning to examine every little memory loss and wondering "is this it?"