That's what it feels like.
Vicious old harriden has given way to nice daffy old lady.
Daffy old lady with a five minute short term memory who rings at 8.15 at night to find out what time it is, morning or night because she's been asleep.
We have the pills fixed, almost. She takes half in the morning, half at night with no in-betweens to confuse her.
I'm not sure how much pain she would be in without the morphine but she is noticing pain under the shoulder and down the left arm. She can't hold a pen or write with her left hand, that hurts.
The morning phone calls are more like they used to be. I can hold a conversation with her even if it's the same one I had the day before. She is laughing again, something that's been missing for a while.
She's still like a CD with a scratch and her brain jumps a track, my mind reading skills are improving. When she says 'you know' I usually do.
But it's hard to wind down. I'm still expecting the tongue lashing every time the phone rings. Sis assures me that this won't happen again. The more she forgets, the happier she becomes. Unfortunately I'm not forgetting, not until this mood goes on for another week or so.
She hasn't forgotten to be pissed off about Aunt Selma, that could go on forever.