The In-Between Times

It's the in-between times that get you, those brief and shining moments when you allow yourself the delusion that things will get better, will change, will pass.

My friend, Joann, struggling with the responsibility of a father lost to Alzheimer's and a helpless, victimized mother, is learning just how strong she is.  The emotional toll is enormous, the physical demands intolerable.
One moment he's there - knows who she is and is rational and calm - then he's gone and in his place there's an abusive, physically violent stranger, a monster who presents a real danger to himself and his family.  None of the medications are helping - some even appear to make it worse - and it's about to get worse as he faces discharge from the hospital and being sent home to recover from a broken hip.  The idea of a nursing home is brought up and quickly dismissed, no one is quite willing to consign him to that particular brand of hell, not yet anyway and besides it would break them financially.  A professional nurse/caregiver is suggested but the patient is unmanageable and would be a threat to their safety, finding the right one has so far proved impossible.  Visions of her daddy in restraints and medicated to this side of a coma are too grim to even consider, yet where else is there to turn.  How long is long enough for her to put her life on hold, she wonders, how long does she fight?  And at what cost?

Then he has a good spell.  He eats and reads and tells jokes, tells her he loves her, gives his whole heart to the physical therapy exercises, talks of the future.  Things are bright and hopeful until they darken and he grabs her by her hair and delivers a stunning left hook to her jaw, making her see stars and cry out in pain.
He doesn't even know why and she retreats in fear and anger and despair, too hurt and emotionally exhausted to face another minute.  He will not remember this the next morning, will ask about her bruised and swollen jaw and be ready to shoot the sob who hit his baby girl and she will not know what to tell him.  And then by late afternoon, he'll be gone again - in his place, a frustrated, sick, brutal old man, shouting threats at all who come near, viciously raging against all who would help him.  There's no escape and no mercy.

Take him or give him back, she begs of God, and immediately regrets what she sees as selfishness.

The in-between times are the worst false promises.