Remembering How

So, I don’t know quite how to handle the dining thing.  Yesterday, when Jerry came down, he seemed clear and alert.  Remember I was all energized?  Anyway, I was painting in my studio when he came down.  I told him I was finishing up and asked if he wanted my coffee.  He took it and we both went upstairs together.  I was still all excited about our day. “We were going to have a great day, starting with an omelet.” I said.   He came into the kitchen with me and started to say something.  It went away as fast as the words came out of his mouth.  He never could finish his sentence.  I think he thought Jack was coming over.   "It’s a “You and Me” day today", I said.  He seemed a little disappointed. (course, when he’s out with his friends, he can’t wait to get back to me.  Confusing, huh?)

Once the omelets were done, I donned each plate with some whole wheat toast and orange marmalade.  We sat down, then he “disappeared”.  Drat!  With great futility I tried my best to keep conversation going. “Is it good?”  “Beautiful day.”  “Wonder why they are surveying our street.”  No response, just blank stare straight ahead.  I said, “Hello”.  He looked over and looked at me.  Then, he went back to the middle stare.

Determined not to put a damper on the day ahead, I got up and started putting the dishes away.  I came down here and started writing this blog.  After he finished eating, he came in and threw his arms open and said, “Ta! Da!”.  I said, “You’re back!  Yeah!”  Then he came over and touched my back.  Whoa!  That doesn’t happen very often.

Who knows?  Maybe he has to concentrate so hard on getting the fork to his mouth that he can’t even acknowledge that someone else is at the table.  I mean, he WAS trying to eat his egg with a knife until I handed him the fork.  Robert, our saintly companion for over a year, offered this suggestion.  He said that he notices that when Jerry is eating he needs to know that he can take as much time as he needs.  If I get up, Jerry stops.  He figures that it is time to stop.  But, no matter how long it takes, if I stay with him, he'll probably finish his meal.

There are so many things we take for granted.    Like, walking AND going in the right direction.  Like, knowing how to open a car door.  Like, remembering to close a door.  Like, knowing where the flag is when you swing the golf club. Ha!

Most importantly, I see that I get best results with everything if I "walk" beside him.  Like we're connected.  I like that anyway.  Afterall, we've been connected for 38 years.

Gotta go.  He’s waiting.

No Grumpies

Which way does this top go?  Where’s the sleeve?  This shirt is so twisted up!  Crisscrossed in the front and the back.  Bet you thought I was describing Jerry, huh.  NOT!  I was trying to find out how to get into this old Vera Wang tee shirt that I have.  (Yes, Vera does have tee shirts on the clearance rack sometimes.)  I mean why can’t I just wear a simple tee shirt today?  Ya know, a small hole for the neck and two arms across from each other with a BIG hole to on the bottom to pull it over my body.     We stress ourselves out over the stupidest things.  Cell phones, answering machines, fancy smancy hi-tech ovens, even TEE SHIRTS!  No wonder we’re all going mad!        

 Speaking of mad.  Things are definitely changing with Jerry.  I’ve noticed that he gets pouty and miffed whenever I get preoccupied with anything other than HIM.  Yesterday, we had the best day.  I took him to a few appointments; we chatted with all my clients, and then had a great little early dinner in Beaufort.  (Beaufort is this adorable little fishing village with lots of cool boats and little seafood dives.)   I ordered his favorite shrimp burger and onion rings.  I cut his sandwich and place both of his hands on one half so it wouldn’t fall apart.  He was happy.  We walked around a little bit and looked at the boats, then headed home.

 Once we were home, I turned on the news for him; then I walked across the room to the kitchen table and started to dabble with some new watercolor pencils I’ve discovered. My girlfriend, Ann, unexpectedly popped in the door a few minutes later.  I loved that! Visitors always brighten my day. So excited about my new pencils, we both started working on some small drawings.  

 My girlfriends always make a big “ta do” over Jerry.  They give him tons of hugs and call him their boyfriend, yada yada yada.  But this time, I could tell Jerry was NOT happy about my having company.  After his brief cordials, he went upstairs in a pouty little mood.  Ann was all concerned and didn’t want Jerry to be upset, so I went up to check on him.  Jerry was all curled up on the bed, in a fetal position with his eyes just staring into space.  After a futile attempt to get him to come back down, I straightened him out, sat him up, turned on some TV sports, then went back down to visit Ann. 

 Now, in the past I would have been covered in guilt but I’ve slowly come to grips with that.  Not feeling guilty, that is.  I’ve had to realize that this is NOT Jerry, it’s the disease. Besides, he won’t remember being mad in the morning.  Neither will I.

Girlfriends

Today was a fabulous day.  I know it sounds like I take a lot of time away.  I felt guilty about that for a long time.  But, I’ve finally realized that, in order to stay sane for the long haul, I’d better schedule time away a couple of times a week.  I come back refreshed and in good spirits, which ultimately makes Jerry a happy man.    So, arranging Jerry to be with his “best buddy” playing their version of golf, I was free to play myself. 

My sweet neighbor planned a day trip to New Bern to see the historic home tour.  I didn’t realize what a treat I was in for.  We met her darling friend, Ann, who was a stitch.  We laughed so hard that we were tripping over each other.  I was so excited and told them I was like a bird let out of her cage.  Being the little artist “wanna be” that I am, I took every funky picture I could of doorknobs, stained glass windows, front porches, American flags...you name it.  They kept having to reel me in and keep me on a leash in order to get to the next house.

 Once we got to the restaurant for lunch, we fell in love with our little waiter.  Mr.  Keenan Chambers was his name and he was wearing a chartreuse bowtie.  What an aristocratic name!  His youthful demeanor was so refreshing that we going "ga-ga" over him.  Then, it happened.  He got down on his knees to take our order and his long feet stuck out into the aisle.  One of his coworker waitresses came rushing by with a tray full of dishes, tripped over his feet and went flying into the air.  The entire restaurant stopped...as if it was EF HUTTON...the poor kid was so embarrassed that his face turned a glowing red and he buried his head down on our table.  What a sight!

I’m sorry but it was so funny, and I am still laughing about it as I write this. 

 It’s so good to have “girl time”.  No offense, guys, but we girls need this.  Afterall, we are from different planets ya know.  We can laugh and cry with each other, male bash, spend idol time looking at stupid little nothings in shops, then we can go home happy to you hubbies.  It’s harmless, but very beneficial.  Trust me.  It’s to your benefit to set us free once in a while.  You’ll be glad you did.

One Command at a Time

One thing I've found is that it's better to give just one command at a time.  Here's me in the morning.   I fix Jerry's cereal, eggs, whatever, and place it on the table.  I hand him a cup of coffee and say, " Why don't you sit at the table and eat your breakfast."  Then I point to his seat at the table.  (That is two commands and one gesture.)  He walks around the kitchen counter and back to me.  Never makes it to the table.  I repeat the whole scenario. Duh! Ever heard that saying, "Insanity.   Doing something the same way over and over and expecting different results." ?  Well, that's me.  I'm such a creature of habit.

Maybe I should try this.

I hand us both a cup of coffee and we both sit at the table together.  How's that?  Then, once he's seated, I get up and prepare his food and bring it to him.  That would probably work as long as I already have it prepared.  If not,  that means, he'd be sitting there with nothing to do.  He might get up again and follow me back over to the counter.  (Our kitchen is small and everything (the counter, the cook top, the table) are within 8 feet of each other.  Hmm, maybe I should just say, "sit down."  After he sits, I say, "Eat." But that sounds so bossie!  It does work though, but I feel bad sounding so harsh.  Maybe I should just remember to say it in a sweet tone of voice, like a perfect wife.  Maybe I should even curtsy.

OH BROTHER!

Not My Bike

Two years ago, our sweet children surprised Jerry and I with cool beach cruisers.  (I think they were embarrassed that we were riding around on our rusty old beaten up bikes.  One was our son's and the other was an outdated yellow.)  Besides, they didn't match. Ha!  So, on Christmas morning, we were totally surprised with the coolest fat tire bikes.  Mine was hippy bright orange with flowers all over it, and Jerry's was a beautiful shiny blue and extra tall for him. This morning, I cleaned all the bikes, pumped the tires, polished the fenders and got them ready for summer.  We still have an old bike that was our son's.  In it's day, it was a really, really, fabulous bike that he had especially built with all it's gears, special tires, and light weight frame.  That bike has seen it's day, and has broken cables now, but I had new tires put on it in case we needed extras when we have visitors.  Now,  I don't know what the deal is, but Jerry insists that he doesn't have a bike.  I think he thinks his blue bike is "sub par".  I mean it doesn't have gears, ya know.  (Neither does mine.)

It totally amazes me that Jerry can ride a bike, but can't button his pants.  Anyway, while pumping up the tires to his blue bike, he kept bringing me our son's old bike.  I kept reminding him that that bike doesn't work and would show him the blue bike.  I suggested, "take the blue bike and test if out."  He reluctantly got on the bike and road it about 20 feet then circled back to me.  He said, "I don't have a bike."  Grrrrrrr!  "What are you on?  That's your bike."  Catching myself before I began to try to explain, (remember, we don't argue with dementia people.) I just finished up servicing all the bikes and rode on out the driveway.  Knowing he would follow me, I just kept on riding.    Funny.  I looked back and there he was on the old yellow bike.  Poor old blue was left in the garage.  WHATEVER!

Kids, Dogs, and Dementia

What’s the difference between 4 boys under 5 and a 62 year old man with dementia?

When you say something, the boys understand!  Kids these days are incredible.  I mean, do you know who Megatron and Deceptitron are?  They do.

These boys have been so good.  This morning they were so anxious to go outside, but I told them I’d have to get “Papa” dressed first.  So we all went up stairs and put our shorts on so we could go out to the beach.  Both boys dressed themselves, but we all helped get Jerry dressed.  We all brushed our teeth together and Granville (our 5 year old) poured Smart Rinse kids Listerene into a little cup for Papa.  Too cute.  Fletcher told him, “don’t swallow it because you’ll get berry, berry sick.”  We got Jerry's shorts on him and Granville helped thread his belt through the loops.  There!  We were ready to go!

Off we went; 1 boy on a scooter, a mommie, a yellow lab, and 2 little boys on a golf cart, Jerry on his yellow bike, me on my cool orange bike with flowers, holding Montana, and another daughter with an infant in a jogging stroller.  Yes, Jerry can still ride a bike; he just can’t button his shorts.  Go figure!  Seems all those muscle memories haven’t left yet.  Just don’t ask him to think!

As we all headed out to the beach I grumbled that Gracie Jo, (the lab) did not have her leash.  NOT GOOD! We are way laid back and love our puppy dogs, but not every one feels the way we do.  Gracie is a dream girl dog and doesn’t bother a soul.  Really! Course, as we parked ourselves on the sand, Gracie decided to visit every family; all of whom had their dogs on leashes.  Yikes!  Not that they ever said anything, but Jerry and I both had the “anxious jitters” that we would begin to receive nasty scowls.  Then, I had an “aha!” moment.   There’s more than one way to skin a “dog”, so I threaded Montana’s leash through Gracie’s collar and hooked both dogs together. I walked Jerry and the dogs over to the water, where little McCauley was digging in the sand.  They were all having the best time.  However, Jerry, not wanting his best friend, Montana, to be inconvenienced in any way, was not too happy about it.  The dogs were totally cool.

Considering it is completely futile to argue or “win” with a dementia person, I realized Jerry was not going to rest easy about these dogs being leashed together.   It was pointless, so I asked if he wanted to take them back to the house.  (He still knows how to get back to the house.) I guided him towards the walkway and pointed him away from the beach.  DUH, me! I must have been dreaming!  There was no way he could control the dogs (no matter how gentle they were).  So, they controlled him.....right onto someone’s blanket where they proceeded to eat their apples and drink their Capri suns.

I feverishly apologized to the little mommie with her 3 children and offered to bring them something special, but they graciously said it was ok.  Then, I had another “aha!”  moment and took the dogs AND Jerry home.  All is good now.  Jerry is sleeping, the babies are sleeping, the dogs are sleeping, and the parents and the older boys are now back at the beach.    Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Really, Mom!

[caption id="attachment_377" align="aligncenter" width="150" caption="Bunny Buns"][/caption] Ok, I know I live in the most beautiful place in the world.  What a gift to be able to be here and I am so grateful for this time.  Our years here have been a wonderful time of restoration.

Katie, my baby girl, and I were sitting on our deck today watching the sunset.  She said, “Really, Mom!”  Meaning, it couldn’t get any better than this!

Saint Bruce spent the day with Jerry today.  If he knew I called him that, he would really get on to me.  Bruce has an uncanny way about him with just the right understanding and compassion to make Jerry feel, “normal”; like one of his golf buddies.  I am assuming they played “golf” because Jerry came home with a huge smile and a little bounce in his step.  Katie and I could see how happy he was.  So happy, that he was asleep on the sofa within 15 minutes after he got home.

Tomorrow, the rest of the clan will be coming in for the Easter weekend.  The house will be filled with the wonderful noise and stomping of those happy little grand boys.  We’ll be packed to the brim and Jerry will be traumatized.  I am thinking of letting one of the families have the entire upstairs (I call it the “containment” area).  Change creates huge challenges for Jerry and he’ll be giving up his room.  Although it might be a little stressful for him, I think it will be better for everyone if the family of 5 is together instead of scattered all over the house.  Jerry and I will just hole up in our downstairs bedroom.  We’ll see how it goes.

Thank heavens the weather will be sunny and warm so we can keep most of the chaos outside.  The Easter bunny will leave his eggs over and over in the front yard, so there will be plenty of excitement.  I’ll cut this short and hope that you have a sweet Easter.  Gotta go get those eggs filled.

Don't Know What's Up

I don't know what is happening with Jerry, but he is actually doing a little better.  For a couple of nights now, he has taken our plates to the sink and rinsed off the dishes.  (Course, he still doesn't remember that we don't have a  disposal.)  I'm just delighted that he is trying. Our faithful Robert took Jerry on a little ride down to Wilmington the other day.  Robert was always wanting to put a flag pole in his front yard, so he found on E bay a pole that would work.  When Robert comes, it's not "all about Jerry".  That's good.  He just takes Jerry along to get our errands run (both his and mine.)  It works out well.  So yesterday, Jerry rode along with Robert and his dad, hooked up the trailer, and away they went.

When Jerry got home, he was all bright and alert.  You see, just the company and the stimulation charges his brain up.  It really works.  That's why it takes a team to keep a dementia person going.  I can't keep my own brain charged, much less his.  To have his friends come along side, evens out the energy.  Does that make sense?

I think that's why Jerry's doing better.  To think, if I had kept working, he probably would have had to go to day care.  This way, he is getting different stimulation just about every day.     The way I see it; if I can keep him out of a facility he'll last longer.  The goal is to keep him active for as long as possible.

I'm Back

First of all, I've come back to 133 spam messages.  So please forgive me if I've overlooked your comments.  I'll try to get back to you once I delete this spam stuff.  Grrrrrrrrrr!  Now...... Are you ready for this?  In the last post, I told you that Jo came to the rescue and I was “on my way” to the artist workshop.  Well!  Not only did I get to attend the workshop, but I ended up bringing the teacher and his wife home with me.  Talk about excitement.

You see, I’ve been so intimidated to even be in the same room with this guy.  His paintings amaze me!  Plus, he seems to be so connected with everyone in the art world.  So, here I am, in introducing myself as a “this is my first workshop” girl.  Surely, he must have thought, “Oh know!  Not another painter, wanna be!”  But, he was gracious and encouraging and very real.  I had so much information overload.  I didn’t know I had to think so much.  Why didn't that supply list tell me I had to bring my brain too?  My mind has grown quite rusty during these care giving years.   Three long days of painting and three long days of thinking.  I'm exhausted!

At the beginning of the workshop, his wife asked if there were any inexpensive (actually she said “cheap”) hotels in the area.  I offered our house but thought they should know two things: one, I had a husband with Alzheimer disease and, two, I had Montana, the wonder dog.  Once talking to Nancy, it turned out that her profession was as an Alzheimer caregiver. Dan even rolled around on the floor with the dog.   Must have been destiny. Ya think?    Thus, be became  fast friends.

I brought home two major lessons.  Number 1, you can’t be a good painter in one workshop!   I think it’s going to take me a REEEEALLY long time.  Number  2, “transparent”.  The more transparent the layers of color, the better the painting will be.  Not a bad idea for us humans, either.  Just like I hope to be with this blog.

Workshop - To Attend or Not to Attend

About two months ago, I signed up for a three day art workshop with a painter I really wanted to learn from.  I’ve always wanted to go to an intensive class, but I’ve never felt it was I could get away for that long.  Up until now, when companions come, it is just for a few hours at a time. I asked my daughter in Raleigh if she was available for those three days and she said, “Sure, I’d love to stay with dad.”  Comfortable that Jerry would be happy with her I signed up and put my money down.  (I had sold a painting to cover the cost.) So, with trepidation, I waited for the first workshop day to begin.  TODAY IS THE DAY.

Now, when I said, “with trepidation” it was because of this.  Shortly after I put down my money, my sweet little girl, told me she had her dates mixed up and would not be able to stay with Jerry.  A little disappointed, I knew I’d have to put something else in place.   With a little nail biting, I began to put volunteers and paid staff in place.   But, yesterday, Jerry came home after just a couple of hours and I knew he was bothered.  He did NOT want to go out again, today.  Oh drat!  What was I going to do?  I could tell Jerry was really bothered and it was not that important for me to attend if he was not going to be happy.  (It was for 3 days from 9a-4p, remember.)

One dear friend, volunteered her husband for the morning.  I considered that.  I rushed to call another friend to see if he could hang with them for the afternoon.  They weren’t there.  Finally, I decided to throw in the towel.  I called the gallery to see if there was any way I could work out a partial refund or something.  The gallery owner was not there.  The gallery had closed.

I was running out of options when, low and behold, the phone rang.  It was yet ANOTHER friend, Rose.  Her husband, Jo, had asked her to call me to see if Jerry was feeling ok.  He noticed him coughing last week, so just wanted to check on him. I told Rose, a fellow artist, about my situation and I could hear Jo in the back ground say, “Let me keep him!”  I nearly fell out of my chair.  Just when I had given up hope, God dropped someone in.  Jo is a pool builder and plans to take Jerry to work with him.  He’ll get to see trackers.  (“Diggers” as my grandsons call them.)  Too cool for school!  Jerry is thrilled to “go to work”.  Way to go, Jo!

So, the car is packed with all my gear.  Hopefully, I can become a famous painter today  AND, who knows, maybe I’ll come home to a pool in the back yard.  NOT!

Snapdraggons

Don’t know if you’ve heard that joke....

One part of me has snapped...the other part is draggin’.

That’s how I feel sometimes.  Sometimes I feel like I try so hard to keep things normal.  Jerry and I had a pretty good day.  We went to my friend’s shop and swapped furniture.  I gave her some old dressers that I had, in trade for a cute little corner cabinet for our downstairs bedroom.  It took up much less space.

Jerry and I loaded up the furniture, hauled it up and down stairs, swapped it out and all was good.  It was a good day.  No money spent and a new piece of furniture to boot.  There I go, thinking, in hopes that we were “normal” again.  Not so, Pluto!  I asked him what he would like to eat.  He has no answer.  I gave him a choice.  Would you like a hamburger or a steak?  No answer.  Would you like a shrimp burger?  No answer?  Would you like a margarita?  “Yes”.  Ok, so we went to the local Mexican place.  It was sunny and beautiful so I asked the waiter if we could sit out on the deck.  “Sure.”  So we sat there, just the two of us.  It was a disaster.  At first, I tried to make conversation.  WHY DO I ALWAYS SET MYSELF UP FOR THIS!  At least look at me and not that spot on the floor.  The more I asked him to look my way, the more he looked at the floor.  I don’t know how to handle it.  I suppose I should just sit there and find a book or something.  Or, maybe I should find out what’s so interesting about that spot on the floor.

Anyway, I’m a little sad.  I’ve decided not to set myself up for that again.  It hurts too much.  No more eating out unless accompanied by friends.  Anyone want to sign up?

Let Me Get a Little Personal

There are many ways to help out a family dealing with disease.  For us, Jerry was “knocked out” of the financial world at a young age.  He began showing symptoms at 49, I was 44.  He declared 100% disabled at 50 and officially diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia at 51.  For most people, those are their prime earning years. As I look back, I can see God’s working toward our provision, way before Jerry became ill.  We had a house paid off and own very little on a second home.  Those homes became our “bank”.  I still worked at the time, but my hours had to be cut shorter and shorter, the more Jerry needed assistance.  We still had two kids in college and three weddings to pay for, so I had to be judicious about how I spent my money.  With no future increasing income to look forward to, I’ve had to stretch our money as long as far as it will stretch.  We’ve sold one house, and I am fully aware that as Jerry’s needs become greater, we may need to sell our primary home eventually.  It’s a complete downward spiral and I’m determined not to go down that spiral, at least without having a little fun doing it!  (Thus, painting.)  We’ve still got a long way to go.  This is a marathon.

Many families are devastated by this disease, both emotionally and financially.  A lot of caregivers are caring for a parent, but when it’s the prime household earner, the spouse, not only is the income cut short, but the helping hand is not there anymore.  The wife (me) not only becomes the caregiver, but also becomes the maintenance man.

Once I reached retirement age, I was finally able to stay home with Jerry full time.  Here’s where it gets sticky.  I just had to pay a small fortune to have the wood rot repaired, leaky ceiling fixed and house painted.  You know how it is.  When houses get old, they need repair.  $$$$.  When grass grows, it needs cutting.  Rusty door knobs need WD40.  Screws need tightening.  Pipes burst. When filters need changing, I need a ladder.  (Ha. I was wondering if you were still reading.)  I mean, when am I going to get my pedicure?!

So, when you meet someone who is caring for a husband who is ill, that’s the way you can help.  Our church has a wonderful outreach ministry called Operation In As Much which addresses this exact need.  So, if you feel uncomfortable talking to someone with dementia, maybe you’re less uncomfortable fixing a broken light switch.

Gotta go finish painting my pink bathroom.  Hope it gets finished today.

Two Phones

A real quickie. It was another rainy day in the EI, so Jerry and I were watching the results of the health care bill on TV while drinking our coffee.  I was talking to a friend on the phone to see what time he was coming to meet up with Jerry, when the other phone rang.  Jerry reached over to get it and I said, "Wait.  I can't talk on two phones."  Montana was at my feet wondering what all the "flutter" was about.  I continued on my phone, Jerry continued to answer the house phone.  Course, he didn't say "hello."  He just clicked it on.  He handed it to me...I was right in the middle of  a sentence.  I handed it back to him.  (Poor person on the other phone.)  Right then, Jerry looked down at Montana.  She looked up at him.  He leaned over and handed the phone to her.  SUCH A GOOD DOG!

Blessed are the Gentle

One part of Jerry’s personality that has remained is his gentle spirit.  It was there all along in his younger years, but it was covered up with all his “type A” assertive, make a million, driven work ethic behaviors.  I wrote in one of my first posts, that one of Jerry’s first questions to me was, “How do you have a relationship with God, if you’ve lost your mind.”  That was 11 years ago. Yesterday, our pastor spoke on Matthew 5:5, “Blessed are the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth.”  He referred to Galatians chapter 5.  How can man know if he has the spirit of God in him?  The Apostle Paul tells us in Galatians that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

Jerry has all those things.  It seems to me, that once this disease stripped away all the behaviors that were “in the way”, what remains in his heart is the Spirit of God.

When Jerry married me, I was one of those strong, independent, cowgirl types, who could saddle up and ride ‘em out, like one of those girls from the Ponderosa.  Our dates were cleaning stalls, and washing down horses.  No sorority, pinks and greens for me.  None of that hippy stuff for me, either.  The most hippy thing I did was I turn my long blond straight hair into a permed and frizzy brillo pad.  (However, I did play a good guitar.)  Independence and resourcefulness was the thing that Jerry liked about me.  Who knows, maybe I was a challenge for him.  Once we were married, I took a back seat and supported his endeavors.  We made a good team.

But now, I’ve come to rely on the “ole” Sue (not OLD, mind you.)  But along with the old Sue, comes that impatient thing.  I mean, I still struggle with the gentleness thing.  Impatience is one of things I put in a box and lay at the feet of God on a daily basis.  EVERY DAY!  I pray for God’s spirit to take over my spirit so that I will be gentle and considerate. I know Jerry hopes I figure it out someday.  Ha!  Course, I’m not sure he what he thinks.  Maybe that’s a good thing.

Hot Water

This morning, Jerry and I had an early day.  Jack was coming to get Jerry at 9am and I needed to get to Bible study.  I overslept and woke up at 7:45.  The reason I say overslept was that I hadn’t done my homework and needed to have time to cram it in.  Yikes!  I managed to get most of it done in record time (wish I had done it right), however, it made me all stressed and in a rush to get us both dressed by nine. At 8:30, I went upstairs to wake up Jerry.  I turned on the shower because it definitely was time for Jerry to get cleaned up.  Now, it’s not a good idea to rush a dementia patient.  It definitely will try your patience. (ha!  Get it?  Patient/patience) Anyway, Jerry doesn’t “rush” well.  I led him into the shower and he stood there and grumbled, “Help me.”  I knew what it was.  The water was too hot.  Now, I stepped over there with toothbrush in hand, and turned down the water.  No problem.  THEN, he said, “You ALWAYS do that.”  I’m sorry but it really hit a nerve.  I mean, I don’t mind serving Jerry, at all, in fact, I’m totally at peace with it.  BUT HE”D BETTER BE APPRECIATIVE!

Have you ever felt that way, women?  I mean, the kids and the husbands sometimes are so demanding and unaware of what you do for them.  I simple “thank you” and a hug would be so nice.  Of course, I just had to show my Christianity and blurt out something like:  “you’d better be thankful I didn’t turn it to cold!”  I mean I do everything from putting his toothpaste on his toothbrush, to shaving, to buttoning his shirts...etc.  He didn’t get it.  Grrr.  Then, I continued to put my makeup on and had to look in the mirror.  Oooooo!  My attitude needed a little adjusting.

Once Jerry got out, I was finished with my lickety split self readiness, and proceeded to help Jerry.  I had picked out his clothes and now needed to help get them on.  If you’ve never had the experience, I thought I’d tell you that getting someone dressed is pretty “up close and personal”.  When you get that close you realize how sick the person really is.  You can look into their eyes.  Then, all pride, anger and frustration melts away.  At least, for me, that’s what happens.  As I pulled his shirt over his head and saw his face, I was glad I didn’t say anything more hurtful the “cold water” statement.  Now, all I could say, was “I love you”.

Light Bulb Test

One test that measures the cognitive ability of dementia patients is the MMSE exam.  (Mini-Mental-Status Exam. I think that’s right.)  It has 30 questions such as: What is your name? What day is this?  What month is this?  What season is this? What state are you in? What floor are you on?  Touch your finger to you nose.  Close your eyes.  Etc.  The last time Jerry took that test, he was only able to answer 3 out 30.  So you see what we’re dealing with here.  Yet, he can still swing a golf club.  Go figure! After church, Sunday, we went to eat with a bunch of our buddies.  All the men (and women) are so nice to Jerry.  I must commend them for their fearlessness in attempting to make conversation with him.  His face lights up and he smiles from ear to ear when they actually engage.  It’s a warm fuzzy moment.

When we got home, I was all in the Springy mood.  Our kids and grandkids are coming down for Easter, so I was getting the house all “Springed” up with flowers and eggs. Jerry, of course, was right by my side in the foyer when I was trying to pitifully arrange the flowers.  Idea!  I wondered if he could get me a light bulb.  The light bulb had blown out in the lamp, so I unscrewed the old 60w bulb and handed it to him so he would know what it looked like.  I asked, “Can you get me a light bulb?”  I told him they were in the laundry closet.  Puzzled, I knew he did not know where the laundry was.  So I told him it was where we wash our clothes.  He turned then took a few steps.  I still knew he didn’t know where to go.  So I pointed upstairs and said go to where you fold the clothes.  (Believe or not, he can still fold clothes.)  I said, “Look in there for a light bulb.”  IT WENT ON!  He brightened up and went upstairs.  About 10 minutes later he came down with a package of the curly light bulbs.  I held the old bulb next to the package and asked, “Does this match?”  He couldn’t see that they didn’t match.  I asked, “Are these the same?”  He said no.  So I asked him if he could go back and find me one that looked like the old one and handed it to him again.  (Really this was just a way to keep him busy, while I gussied up the house.)

It’s been 20 minutes now.  I’d better go check and see where he is.

I’m back.  I found him asleep on the bed on the third floor with the package of curly light bulbs and an unopened box of Colgate toothpaste.  Now, figure that one out.

Off to Brazil

When I got back from Zumba yesterday, I came home to a “not so happy” man. I could tell he was mad because he didn’t acknowledge me and was looking down at this finger nails.  Here I was, all pumped up and happy, and he was “mad”.  Humph!  Well, I just walked into the kitchen, made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, poured him some milk and took it to him.   I handed it to him,  suggested he NOT be mad, and reminded him that I am the one who feeds him.  Then, I popped upstairs to take my shower. Being raised in the Air Force, I lived all over the world and experienced all different cultures.  So, sometimes, I feel my insides getting all riled up to travel or to immerse myself in someplace else. So for one hour, I was off to Brazil via my Zumba class.   Zumba take me away!  Latin dance can shake the tension off of any rigid body.  Our class is filled with women from marathoners to seniors and so packed that half the time I dance myself right into the wall. Carrrrrrrrrrrrumba! Kawabonga!  Cha-cha-cha!

After, I got showered, I tried to reason with Jerry that I needed to go exercise so that I could stay healthy and take care of him.  Now, reasoning with a dementia person is totally futile, but I thought I’d give it a try.  After a lengthy session of rationalizing, I asked, “does that make sense?”  He just looked straight ahead and said “where’s the dog”.  Are you laughing?  So, I just got him up, patted his hand, and said, let’s go.

Since I had the international bug, I figured we would have an “international day”.  We first went to Ireland and visited our local Saint Patrick’s Day festival.  Tons of people and tons of green beer.  Too loud!  We didn’t last long.  (It wasn’t anything like the real Ireland.)  But, it was sunny and a beautiful day to be out.   The assorted whiffs of festival foods were tempting, but I figured sitting in a quiet place would be better.  So we walked across the street to our local Mexican restaurant, where our Hispanic friends greeted us with open arms and soft smiles. Ordering for Jerry can be quite challenging.  Since he doesn’t use his right arm, and sandwiches use both hands, a taco won’t do.  He also doesn’t know what to do with a knife, so he needs to eat with only a fork.  Augh!  Here is is;  soft tacos for me and enchiladas for Jerry, chips and salsa, and a margarita.  Had to have it!  Course, I completely negated the Zumba hour....but, hey!

It turned out to be a great day.  Jerry was happy to have me all to himself.  I was happy that he was happy.

Senior Games

Lest you think we  all seniors are dying....we're not!  Sometimes, this disease can put you into this funk (which I've been in for a few days.)   I mean, you can't get away from it.  It's always there.  But, dadgummit, I refused to be "dead" yet!

Thank goodness my daughter sent me this picture of some couples having a grand ole time while sailing around the Carribean last year.  Yes, I could get all whiney and say, "why can't I do that...yada yada yada".  But she sent me the picture and simply said "PAINT!".   I got such a chuckle out of it, that I pulled out an 18x24 canvas and started sketching it.  I became so engrossed that I felt like I was the one on that boat.  In fact, if you look at the lady on the far right, in the dark suit....that's ME!  I painted myself right into that picture.

So, today is a drop dead gorgeous day.  I'm headed out to Zumba.

Pretty Pale Pink Paint

Thought I’d shock everyone this morning and put on some makeup. “ ‘Ooo!’  She said with a tremor.”  A girlfriend stopped by last night and we had a glass of wine.  BIG MISTAKE!  That caused me to eat that fattening spaghetti.  Remember, the spaghetti that Jerry didn’t eat?   We talked about how we had been with our sweet husbands since we were nineteen years old and how they were now a part of us.  We also discovered that we sometimes did the same thing at night.  After our hubbies have fallen asleep at night, we both pat them with our hand and say a little prayer for them.   Isn’t that sweeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Anyway, the Dunkin Donut coffee is brewing, my make up is on and today’s a new day.  I figured I’d better start it off with new energy.  I really need to exercise, but I just can’t wait to get a paint brush in my hand. I truly hope he will be feeling better when he wakes up. The reality in the back of my mind is that I know one day he won’t be waking up better.  So, I hold on to hope everyday that “this” day he will not have shifted downward.

Try saying this fast.  Pretty pale pink paint (PPPP).   I bought some for my downstairs bathroom. The paint, along with a bag of sponge brushes, has been sitting on the bathroom floor for over a month. Go figure!  I think I’ll paint it today.  The bathroom has been this limey green for 11 years and I must say that the green has faded and spotted to a pretty disgusting color.  First, I have to pull off that nasty wallpaper border, which no doubt will come off in little shreds.  Ugh!  But, after that, the pink paint will go on and it’ll look fresh and new.  Have you ever noticed that we always have to struggle through the hard things before we end up with the good things?  (a little commentary there.)

Anyway, I’ll let you know how far I get.

Sick

Woke up at 6:00 this morning with painting on my mind.  Got started early and got lots accomplished.  I cancelled Jack today, because Jerry's just not been feeling well. I’ve noticed some new things lately.  For one thing, Jerry’s still losing weight and now, he’s sick, which isn’t his usual.  Jerry’s always been the one who never gets sick, (accept for his brain) but he’s been down and out for the last few days.  He had a short bit of a perk today, so I decided to get him out of the house and get him a hardy meal.  (Not Hardy’s meal, but hardy meal.)  I put him in the shower and Montana in the tub.  They both got bathed at the same time.  It worked out pretty good.

We all loaded up in the car, (Montana, too) and looked for an uncrowded place to eat.  Today, it was Mike's Place.  Now, you’ve got to watch out for Jerry.  He’ll steal your drink in a nano second.  There we were waiting for his blackened tilapia and baked potato, (I ordered a salad for me), while he had his right hand on his glass of sweet tea.  All of a sudden, I noticed his left hand sliding slowly across the table and reaching for my diet Pepsi.  I mean, what’s up with that?  His other hand was actually ON his sweet tea glass.  I chuckled at him and told him not to steal my drink.  But, you know, maybe it’s because his right hand is “useless”.  He usually has it in his pocket and doesn’t use it at all.  The doctors call it “limb neglect”.  His brain doesn’t recognize it.  Soooooo, maybe his brain didn’t realize his hand was on his sweet tea.  Who knows!

Anyway, it is 8:30 and he’s in bed.  I am a little worried.  Even though his brain doesn’t work, I hate to see him feeling miserable.  I also don’t know what to think about his officially dropping down to 170lbs.  That is thin!  I fixed good ole fattening spaghetti tonight with garlic bread, but he ate very little of it.   Since, he's gone to bed early, he won't get his chocolate ice cream either.  It' s a never ending battle to keep him fed.

Since he slept most of the day, I got quite a lot of painting done.  I’m trying to finish up some commission pieces so that I can focus on the illustrations for the book.  I worked on my story board last night until pretty late.  I’m hoping I can get this book underway.  Too many people need to know how to value our precious loved ones with this terrible disease.

Think I’ll go to bed soon.  I'm tired.