Get the Gun




This morning started out being a good day, at least for me. I had time to walk the dogs and check my email before Lewy woke up. Then it took a turn for the worse.

“Ummmuumumunumunumm!” Ten second pause.

“UMMUNUMUNMUNUMNUM!!!”Guess I better go see what’s up.

“Morning Dad. Do you want to get up?”

“UNUMUNUMNUNMMNMNUMNUM!”

“Do you want to stay in bed?”

“Unmnum I unm get up.”

“OK. Lets get you up.”

A typical start to the day. His bed is wet, soaked through the top pee pad down to the second pee pad under the fitted sheet. I’ve learned that you need a minimum of three pee pads or the floor is likely to be wet in the morning. You can see where the hardwood under his bed buckled slightly from the time he peed so much it spilled over to the floor.

It only took once to get those extra pads.

I pulled the covers off of him, and reached for his feet to help him swing them out of the bed and saw that during the night he had ripped his pajama bottoms to shreds. Before I thought not to ask I blurted out “What on earth happened to your jammies?”

“She came in here and tore ‘em up. I told her not to.”

It was his regular night visitor. When she first showed up she would sit in his chair and watch him all night. She doesn’t have any legs, but she has dozens of children. She used to scare Lewy, but now that he has gotten to know her name and her husband, and their entire family history, he just wishes she would stay out of his bed.

After I got Lewy cleaned up and dressed, I made him breakfast and set out his pills. I went into the spare bedroom/office to start my daily telecommute.

“YOU BETTER GET OUTTA HERE! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU BETTER LEAVE!!”

This was new.

Normally he talks so low that I can barely hear him. Now he is screaming.“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Don’t you see him!? He’s standing there with a shotgun!”

“No, Dad, I don’t see him. He’s one of your people.”

I went back to my work.

More screaming.

I did not interfere.

Lewy started mumbling out loud to his people about a month ago, but now he is clear and direct and loud. He kept yelling at them off and on for a couple of hours. Then,“PAULINE! PAULINE! GET THE GUN!

This was getting a bit out of hand. I went in and swung my arms through the guy with the gun, and took Lewy’s hand and walked him over to his Lazy Boy. From the kitchen to the chair is maybe 12 feet, but It’s a good ten minute walk.



Finally he sits, reclines, and sleeps.