Yes, you're right

It really is harder than I thought it would be. I'm ready to admit it. No matter how positive I stay, no matter how much I look for the humor and keep my eye on the greater good, it's really friggin' hard. All of it.

When Jill and I got together nine and a half years ago, she had the fiercest dog --- I was afraid of her. Lucky Lu had a reputation for being very protective, loudly so, and Jill took here almost everywhere she went. I was scared to get involved with Jill at first because of her dog. And Jill was a fierce about her companion as Lucky was about Jill.

I knew from the get-go that when the day came for Lucky to leave us, it would be a crisis, and it is. Lucky has given up. She's nearly 15. Everything is failing. Lucky's days are at their end, but the relationship will continue. I've grown accustomed to her outbursts and come to appreciate that after a rocky start, Lucky Lu and I could have our very own relationship. And yes, she's lovely and loyal and warm and sweet.

Since this is happening against the backdrop of Mom's first week living with us, it is all wrapped up in the enormous changes in our household. I've heard people talk about the "emotional roller coaster" for years, and despite my best efforts to shut down every possible emotional disturbance, I'm constantly being whipped around corners and plunged headlong toward the ground.

Not self-pity, I hope, but bewilderment to find myself here so suddenly. I know that compared to millions of other people, my troubles are really high class. It's just a matter of accommodating a new reality. Is there something inherent in humans that makes us think that we'll somehow be spared the misfortunes of others? It's not that I think I should be immune; it just doesn't fit my pictures of what I expected. There is no history of Alzheimers in my mother's family, and most of them live well into their 90s or past 100. I never expected to have to remind her that she shouldn't wear her pajamas under her pants, or that she needs batteries in her hearing aids to make them work.

A month from now it will be better, if only because it will be more familiar. Three months from now it will be even more different, and I choose today to believe I will feel more settled, happier, contented. It will never get perfect, but I really hope I make the adjustment and regain my balance. I think I can.