splash.

I’ve made a plan. I’m tucking Jeff into a duffel and heading to Florida for a four night 50th birthday present to myself. This will occur just after my birthday, in the first week of December.

Now I’m aware that Disney is not everyone’s idea of “real” travel —and without a doubt, I like reality-based adventures very much—but this is what I whimsically want to do, so I’m not going to try hard to explain myself. We’ll stay at the Animal Kingdom Lodge and see...animals. And eat stuff. And take what slow-paced, low-key pleasure we can in a few short days at the parks, (uncrowded in early December,) enjoying mostly things like The Jammitors. To be followed by sitting on the veranda at the AKL watching ostriches.

I’m a little worried today though. Jeff’s had a foggier than usual 48 or so hours, and you just wonder...are we encountering a new set-point, or is it just a passing low pressure system? So we’ll see how things play out. I have trip insurance for the cost of lodging and whatnot and won’t lose out too much if I must cancel.

The thing about AD is that it’s like Splash Mountain. (Disney reference...to an attraction we will not visit this trip.) You know that while you might be on a manageable horizontal boat ride with just an occasional swoop to port or starboard, you’re going to hit the 45º downward flume, and you’re going to be at a lower elevation at the end.

And then I’m going to be looking around like...what am I supposed to do with this? Where’s Uncle Charley? (You know...William Demerest from My Three Sons.) Or some other avuncular type who wants nothing more than to move in to the room currently housing Hazel the crazy kitty, and Be There for Jeff. Because Jeff would love him and be comfortable with him and vice versa. And I wouldn’t have to imagine that I’ll be doing everything and housebound if there’s something scary like that at the bottom of Splash Mountain.

And of course there is. It’s Alzheimer’s.