tigrkittn | LJI Wk 2 - Vampire Load

I'm dreaming about work again. This is my canary in the coal mine.

The first time it happened was back in the mid nineties when I ran a tax-prep office - during the height of the season I'd always start dreaming about returns with impossible numbers of dependents, and clients who didn't bring any ID, and running between six different desks because all my staff had called out.

A decade later I was working at the university for a tyrannical, micromanaging director who had me in literal tears in the office on a regular basis (super embarrassing when you're in your forties!). Twice a year we had extra-busy periods when I was responsible for making sure our events were organized to perfection, and I routinely cried on my husband's shoulder in the morning before managing to pry myself out of bed to begin the day.

Then I got a different job, and life got good. I enjoyed what I did, and even busy times didn't rattle me too much.

Fast forward to now and I'm in a new, highly demanding job, wrestling circular systemic problems and staff with unfortunate habits needing to be retrained. I'm reading and answering work emails at all hours. I'm having to scold myself out of the urge to get on the computer and deal with office issues over the weekend. And this morning I woke up exhausted from an all-night mental rehash of overdue, nonsensical budget issues. But the job isn't the problem.

Two years ago I could have done this job standing on my head. With one hand tied behind my back. While riding a unicycle. The challenges would have been stimulating and energizing and I'd have enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment from every little win.

Then my mom came to live nearby.

Before Covid she was healthy as a septuagenarian could be. After 18 months alone in her house, sitting in her recliner staring at the TV, she became a different person - and that person is fading away day by day, right before my eyes. She gets confused about small things. Her short-term memory is failing. She falls frequently, often requiring a trip to the ER to make sure nothing is broken. She forgets to eat. A medication dispenser with an alarm isn't sufficient to remind her to take her pills - she just turns the alarm off and sets the pill box aside. Some days she doesn't leave her armchair from breakfast until bedtime.

She doesn't require a lot of my actual physical time. The facility where she lives delivers meals - if she remembers to call and order them - and she has an aide who comes in for an hour in the morning to make sure she's up and clean and has everything she needs. I visit a couple of times a week, run her errands and take her to doctor appointments, and sometimes she calls at dinnertime or 11:00 or 3 a.m. and says, "I'm on the floor..." and I have to get dressed and drive over there and try to lift her back in her chair or into bed.

But every time my phone rings now I freeze. Because I don't know - is she out of detergent, or has she broken a bone? Is the aide calling because Mom needs a prescription picked up, or do I need to stop what I'm doing right now and get over there? Is that "unknown caller" spam, or an EMT?

And even when I'm not dealing with her errands or appointments or other needs directly, part of me still is. Part of me always is.

So next time I'm at the store, I'd better buy that coalmine canary some treats and a new toy to keep her energy and spirits up, because we've still got work to do.