Second update: Glimmer

Things are bad.

I don't even have the strength for a supposedly-dramatic ellipses in that sentence, let alone the desire. Things are bad.   I spent just about all of yesterday in the emergency room with her and for a couple of hours of that, she was trying to kick me.  Today had her in the hospital not remembering any of it, or that she had asked me to help her two minutes before she asked me to help her again.  Her dementia is spiked to a level I haven't seen since December of 2018, and those of you who've been around for a while might remember that as the time of the psychotic break.  The incident which put her in a facility for nearly two weeks while her medications were being balanced.  And I never saw a doctor during today's visit.  I don't know what's going on, or anyone's theories.  Just that...  she woke me up several times last night, claiming that she needed to see that I was still there.  That her leg pains were severe.  And on the last one, she was dressed to go out.  And wearing her panties outside her pants.

Incidentally, this turned out to be two pairs of pants.  The second pair had another pair of panties on top of them.  I...  left those in place, because bringing her into the ER was going to require evidence of an altered mental state.  The doctors were the only ones who saw it and when they got her into the hospital gown, there were two more pairs of panties present.  So hey, layering.

There's your altered mental state. So is attempting to escape the ER bed to the point where they tilt it backwards to keep you from climbing out.  And trying to climb out anyway.  And kicking at anyone who tries to stop you.  Also, she apparently managed to flee her CAT scan at a foot rate of less than two miles per hour, but I wasn't a direct witness for that one.  I'm sure it's a thrilling tale, though.

And today, she doesn't remember any of it.  She just keeps asking for help.  And to be let out of the hospital because there's nothing wrong, although she admits to not feeling good.  The antibiotics don't seem to be putting a dent in this, so a UTI is uncertain, and...

...here I am.  In the apartment, alone.  I can try to sleep tonight.  I probably won't succeed, but if sleep comes, I can sleep late.  Someone else is looking after her, especially since there's a hospital employee in her room at all times.  I'm alone, and...

...that means a chance to write.

So the 8500 words of this chapter are courtesy of my mother spending most of yesterday calling me a sick monster who'd never helped or loved her.  And also, at one point, Satan.

And people wonder why this story has the Dark tag.

If I can, I'll try for one more update this month, as promised. But it might be on Glimmer again.  I don't think I'm in a good mental place for cringe comedy.

...unless I'm abusing Blueblood.

*checks story plot progression*

Hmm.  It is just about AbuseBluebloodO'Clock...