Just a quick anecdote. My mother, oh, a week or two ago, went outside topless. At least i think it was topless, it was either that or in her bra, but i think she went out to retrieve her bra. So, in fact, she went onto the porch topless. i, of course, had not jumped to get her the garment quickly enough, so she had to get it herself. She then proceeded to put it on on the porch. We live in the middle of town. i was smiling, chasing after her laughing a bit, and standing on the porch with my arms out trying to block her from view. Bubs got angry. (or course, he's usually angry anymore.) He snapped at me for being amused, and, i think, commented that this was the sort of thing which would get me reported (again) to the office of the aging.
The reason why i'm not so upset about it, however, is simple: she's sick. It isn't her fault, really, that she went onto the porch topless. Anyone with an ounce of sense and understanding would not only see that, but acknowledge it and be sympathetic towards it. If someone is too close minded to be understanding that a mental illness could cause someone to briefly walk around half clothed, then that is their problem, and i'm only going to be concerned with them if they make my life uncomfortable by reporting it. At which point i will be angry, not concerned about their fragile sensibilities.
Lord, help me control my anger.
If anyone ever tries making a huge deal out of it, maybe i'll go out onto the porch topless too.
Hey, if you're going to offend the neighborhood, you may as well do it big.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
how did you, get there, oh and in your underwear.........
Lethargy is slowly once again pulling me deep within its miasma. Okay, so the journey is not so slow, and, in the end, i can't blame lethargy for that which i encourage it to do. Basically, i can not ever see myself becoming a good stay at home mom. When i look introspectively within myself, honestly, i can admit that perhaps part of why i tend to get myself so involved in so muh, is because without a schedule i just do......... nothing. Or, if not nothing, not so much. For a while i was actually being rather productive. This summer, as every summer, that has declined.
you just reach a point at which you look around, and think- i'm not going to get this fixed, we live fine as it is, why bother trying. There's still a little voice in your head which protests- you bother trying, my dear, because your house isn't safe. Probably, realistically, your house could be condemned in its current condition, and you might be charged with elder abuse. That little voice talks sometimes so very quietly however.
The voice is easier to ignore, too, when coupled with mom's extreme desire to always be going somewhere. Sometimes it can be easy to work. Sometimes it can be hard to argue with her all the time that you need to work.
Still, even when i have time off, all too often i spend it not working.
Lord, please forgive me.
Today, however, i did get into my room for a bit. i pulled out clothes, emptied a box, and have begun the arduous task of washing all of the mouse feces and urine infested garments from my past (and my sisters' pasts, and my mothers' past, etc.). The things located therein presented some interesting thoughts, reflections on who i am and who i have been:
-bloomers. How many people looking at me now would believe i was ever a cheerleader, much less the captain of the squad?????
-my first string bikini (and a series of other bikinis). i, the girl who protests with some anger every summer that there just aren't discreet suits for skinny women, used to own and love a string bikini.
-girly underclothes. About which i was actually excited.
-sports bras. about which i used to be really excited. (sports bras just don't go so well with businesswear though.)
-a "go hard big dick" shirt. which i used to wear proudly all over campus. sigh.
-running clothes, running clothes, running clothes. This last one made me sad. Where is the girl who used to run all over the place, who never even considered not running? i miss her. let's get her back.
-cute "date" dresses. which will likely be worn to church. There isn't much in my life right now which requires dressing up enough for a cute night out dress. Still, it makes me happy that i have reached a phase in my life where i could see myself wearing it.
you just reach a point at which you look around, and think- i'm not going to get this fixed, we live fine as it is, why bother trying. There's still a little voice in your head which protests- you bother trying, my dear, because your house isn't safe. Probably, realistically, your house could be condemned in its current condition, and you might be charged with elder abuse. That little voice talks sometimes so very quietly however.
The voice is easier to ignore, too, when coupled with mom's extreme desire to always be going somewhere. Sometimes it can be easy to work. Sometimes it can be hard to argue with her all the time that you need to work.
Still, even when i have time off, all too often i spend it not working.
Lord, please forgive me.
Today, however, i did get into my room for a bit. i pulled out clothes, emptied a box, and have begun the arduous task of washing all of the mouse feces and urine infested garments from my past (and my sisters' pasts, and my mothers' past, etc.). The things located therein presented some interesting thoughts, reflections on who i am and who i have been:
-bloomers. How many people looking at me now would believe i was ever a cheerleader, much less the captain of the squad?????
-my first string bikini (and a series of other bikinis). i, the girl who protests with some anger every summer that there just aren't discreet suits for skinny women, used to own and love a string bikini.
-girly underclothes. About which i was actually excited.
-sports bras. about which i used to be really excited. (sports bras just don't go so well with businesswear though.)
-a "go hard big dick" shirt. which i used to wear proudly all over campus. sigh.
-running clothes, running clothes, running clothes. This last one made me sad. Where is the girl who used to run all over the place, who never even considered not running? i miss her. let's get her back.
-cute "date" dresses. which will likely be worn to church. There isn't much in my life right now which requires dressing up enough for a cute night out dress. Still, it makes me happy that i have reached a phase in my life where i could see myself wearing it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
and here we go again..........
Doing even the simplest tasks can become very complicated when dealing with dementia. Take my current search for a lawn mower. Our lawn has become a small jungle, since our last mower, which i could never get to start and keep going for an entire lawn, died. So, me being the quasi-hippie i am, i decided that i wanted to buy a reel mower- the old fashioned kind that you push (and you never have to start). They're green, they're more fun, they're quiet, they don't spew chunks of debris at ferocious speeds, they don't spout noxious fumes, and did i mention that you never have to start them? i have an issue with starting mowers.
So, in my previous life, this experience might have gone something like this:
1.) online research into mowers
2.) call around to see if anyone local sells mowers
3.) make decision as to location; buy mower.
4.) mow lawn.
Now, it goes something like this:
1.) online research into mowers (while mom walks around me trying to get me to do other things because she's bored.)
2.) tell mom to get ready, we'll go see if (local small town) has a mower, or we will drive to (local city) to get one. (This helps with the boredom.)
3.) attempt to call around to see if anyone local sells mower, while mom asks for help cleaning her feet, asks me who i'm talking to (she's certain she knows them, and likely she does), and insists, repeatedly, that we do not need a new mower. She just paid for one. We have one, too. Downstairs. We do not need a mower. Why aren't we driving there? Don't call, let's just drive. Why do we have to go. Can we go? What are we going for again?
4.) Find local distributor who can order a mower, slightly more expensive than chain store mower, but online reviews claim it handles very tall grass (which we have). It can be ordered likely to arrive in a day or two.
5.) Drive to order mower. (Mom insists this needs to be done in person.) Stand and smile as she asks a million times (hyperbole) what we are doing, try not to seem domineering as i insist that we do need one and proceed to try to order it over her protests. Smile as she chats up the store clerk, and, invariably, asks them to find me a man.
6. ) Wait for mower to come in. Repeat step five, only with picking up mower not ordering mower. Continue to smile as she tells them she should have known better than to have me and asks them to find me a man.
7.) Mow lawn.
Steps 5-7 haven't occurred yet, but likely will in the near future, as, though it's 20 dollars or so more expensive, i think i will go with small local distributor. The mower rates well, the people know us, and i like to help out the small local guy. (quasi hippie, remember?)
Or, take my morning, which in the past might have gone thus:
1.)Wake up to a phone call about youth group business.
2.)Do youth group business.
3.)Facebook slightly (relieves frustration).
4.)Do devotions
5.)Walk dog
6.)Eat
Wake up to a phone call about youth group business. Go to computer to deal with business. Tell mom, repeatedly, that i am doing youth group business. Deal with business. Check facebook briefly, until mom mentions to the dog that it's time to walk. Once this occurs, it's time for a walk- no questions asked.
Walk. This goes pleasantly. Mom takes the leash for much of the walk. Return to house to read devotions (normally done before walk, but youth group business messed things up.) Tell mom dog just got a walk, and does not need another one so soon.
Read just a little before mom becomes convinced that she dropped something out of her pants, and needs to go back over walking route to check. Assure her that she will be taken if she can just wait until Bible reading is done. She goes out alone........
......... and comes back in with something in a piece of towel. Finish Bible reading quickly (was very near the end at this point anyway) and go outside at her insistence to inspect towel contents. Assure her it did not come from her, take it out of potted plant where she deposits it, and throw it away. Insist she washes hands; concede the soap part as a defeat.
Walk back around the block with mom and dog (she invited him again) to make really sure that she did not drop something out of her pants. Look at spots she points out (leaves, tar, stains, etc.) to assure her they did not come from her. Tell her, repeatedly, not to touch random stuff on road. Watch as she does it anyway. Come home, and tell her to wash hands. Lose that battle, chasing her outback and insisting she not touch the clean clothes pins until she does. Give up, go get antibacterial hand wipe for her.
Go with family to get food (as mom really likes to drive to nearby town). Differentiate between the really old sub she found in car (totally didn't know she stashed it there) and the sub she bought today, based on vegetable content. Pray she didn't eat the old sub before she showed it to me.
Okay, she's waited long enough while i wrote this. She is getting antsy. So off to order mower.
So, in my previous life, this experience might have gone something like this:
1.) online research into mowers
2.) call around to see if anyone local sells mowers
3.) make decision as to location; buy mower.
4.) mow lawn.
Now, it goes something like this:
1.) online research into mowers (while mom walks around me trying to get me to do other things because she's bored.)
2.) tell mom to get ready, we'll go see if (local small town) has a mower, or we will drive to (local city) to get one. (This helps with the boredom.)
3.) attempt to call around to see if anyone local sells mower, while mom asks for help cleaning her feet, asks me who i'm talking to (she's certain she knows them, and likely she does), and insists, repeatedly, that we do not need a new mower. She just paid for one. We have one, too. Downstairs. We do not need a mower. Why aren't we driving there? Don't call, let's just drive. Why do we have to go. Can we go? What are we going for again?
4.) Find local distributor who can order a mower, slightly more expensive than chain store mower, but online reviews claim it handles very tall grass (which we have). It can be ordered likely to arrive in a day or two.
5.) Drive to order mower. (Mom insists this needs to be done in person.) Stand and smile as she asks a million times (hyperbole) what we are doing, try not to seem domineering as i insist that we do need one and proceed to try to order it over her protests. Smile as she chats up the store clerk, and, invariably, asks them to find me a man.
6. ) Wait for mower to come in. Repeat step five, only with picking up mower not ordering mower. Continue to smile as she tells them she should have known better than to have me and asks them to find me a man.
7.) Mow lawn.
Steps 5-7 haven't occurred yet, but likely will in the near future, as, though it's 20 dollars or so more expensive, i think i will go with small local distributor. The mower rates well, the people know us, and i like to help out the small local guy. (quasi hippie, remember?)
Or, take my morning, which in the past might have gone thus:
1.)Wake up to a phone call about youth group business.
2.)Do youth group business.
3.)Facebook slightly (relieves frustration).
4.)Do devotions
5.)Walk dog
6.)Eat
Wake up to a phone call about youth group business. Go to computer to deal with business. Tell mom, repeatedly, that i am doing youth group business. Deal with business. Check facebook briefly, until mom mentions to the dog that it's time to walk. Once this occurs, it's time for a walk- no questions asked.
Walk. This goes pleasantly. Mom takes the leash for much of the walk. Return to house to read devotions (normally done before walk, but youth group business messed things up.) Tell mom dog just got a walk, and does not need another one so soon.
Read just a little before mom becomes convinced that she dropped something out of her pants, and needs to go back over walking route to check. Assure her that she will be taken if she can just wait until Bible reading is done. She goes out alone........
......... and comes back in with something in a piece of towel. Finish Bible reading quickly (was very near the end at this point anyway) and go outside at her insistence to inspect towel contents. Assure her it did not come from her, take it out of potted plant where she deposits it, and throw it away. Insist she washes hands; concede the soap part as a defeat.
Walk back around the block with mom and dog (she invited him again) to make really sure that she did not drop something out of her pants. Look at spots she points out (leaves, tar, stains, etc.) to assure her they did not come from her. Tell her, repeatedly, not to touch random stuff on road. Watch as she does it anyway. Come home, and tell her to wash hands. Lose that battle, chasing her outback and insisting she not touch the clean clothes pins until she does. Give up, go get antibacterial hand wipe for her.
Go with family to get food (as mom really likes to drive to nearby town). Differentiate between the really old sub she found in car (totally didn't know she stashed it there) and the sub she bought today, based on vegetable content. Pray she didn't eat the old sub before she showed it to me.
Okay, she's waited long enough while i wrote this. She is getting antsy. So off to order mower.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
On local brats and impsih rugrats
Two posts ago i began the story of the kickball game in the park. It never was finished. So i thought i'd catch you all up (unsure if anyone reads this, i'll continue to pretend, for my sake, that i'm not just writing into a vast nothingness.)
So there we were- the adults. Parents sitting there watching their young children play kickball with the town's teenage miscreants, and me. The parents appeared to have gathered by unspken accord, that they needed to supervise in case of trouble. At least that is why they gathered originally. In time it appeared as if they gathered more to enjoy the spectacle, and to indulge for an evening in the small town tradition of slow paced comraderie. i pretended to be there to observe the same, but really i was watching mom, who had gone into the tennis court to participate, with the same trepidations the others had for their small children.
These teenagers suprised me, surprised us all i dare say. For that night, at least, they were not the town miscreants. They were responsible, caring instructors and referees. When a child hurt himself, they gathered around him and kindly, and with some child wrangling skills, first ascertained that he was alright and then cajoled him into accepting it. They let mom kick, and the younger kids took turns running for her. They dealt with her with a respect and patience that not all adults show; they did not seem annoyed, they did not visibly roll their eyes, they cast no looks of pity my way. They were only gentle, and friendly, and familiar. They were wonderful. At one point a stray ball struck her eye, brusing her a bit as the plastic on her glasses dug into her face. They ran to her, making sure she was okay. The one who caused the ball to fly at her disappeared shortly thereafter; i feared he felt too guilty to stay.
Why do we not give our youth a chance????? They are better than we think, and need to be respected. i think this may be why they were so good to my mom, because in her heyday she embodied this truth. For years we have had the rough and tumble kids of local society run to her and hug her, stop to show her their children, or sit upon our porch to visit her. Though she may have butted heads with them in iss, she really cared abou tthem, and they seemed to realize this. i fancy that it is why our house has not been more often vandalized, though some others around us have suffered. God gave her a gift. May we all learn from it. Thank God it seems to be coming back to help her now, in her vulnerable time.
So there we were- the adults. Parents sitting there watching their young children play kickball with the town's teenage miscreants, and me. The parents appeared to have gathered by unspken accord, that they needed to supervise in case of trouble. At least that is why they gathered originally. In time it appeared as if they gathered more to enjoy the spectacle, and to indulge for an evening in the small town tradition of slow paced comraderie. i pretended to be there to observe the same, but really i was watching mom, who had gone into the tennis court to participate, with the same trepidations the others had for their small children.
These teenagers suprised me, surprised us all i dare say. For that night, at least, they were not the town miscreants. They were responsible, caring instructors and referees. When a child hurt himself, they gathered around him and kindly, and with some child wrangling skills, first ascertained that he was alright and then cajoled him into accepting it. They let mom kick, and the younger kids took turns running for her. They dealt with her with a respect and patience that not all adults show; they did not seem annoyed, they did not visibly roll their eyes, they cast no looks of pity my way. They were only gentle, and friendly, and familiar. They were wonderful. At one point a stray ball struck her eye, brusing her a bit as the plastic on her glasses dug into her face. They ran to her, making sure she was okay. The one who caused the ball to fly at her disappeared shortly thereafter; i feared he felt too guilty to stay.
Why do we not give our youth a chance????? They are better than we think, and need to be respected. i think this may be why they were so good to my mom, because in her heyday she embodied this truth. For years we have had the rough and tumble kids of local society run to her and hug her, stop to show her their children, or sit upon our porch to visit her. Though she may have butted heads with them in iss, she really cared abou tthem, and they seemed to realize this. i fancy that it is why our house has not been more often vandalized, though some others around us have suffered. God gave her a gift. May we all learn from it. Thank God it seems to be coming back to help her now, in her vulnerable time.
If fashion is your trade, then when you're naked, i guess you must be unemployed.
The title has nothing to do with this post. It's just one of my favorite lines, and it has been stuck in my head all morning. It's a song by pulp., underwear. In my younger, wilder days i was an avid pulp fan. Listen to me, "younger, wilder days". i'm just shy of thirty. Yet my lingering middle aged housewife feeling remains; the other day at the fair i even looked at a surviving a midlife crisis book. Mostly as a joke.
So much happens in my life; i'm going to endeavor to be more faithful in posting to this blog at least. This is where i chronicle my life most truthfully, perhaps. This is where i can tell stories like the one below. Because this is where i have anonymity; well relative anonymity. Those who have been given the link to this and know me in real life are those i trust not to take it amiss. i hope.
Mom is degrading. Not in any major way, and she is still very strong in many ways. Yesterday, as a test, i assigned her to put the calendar numbers in numerical order. (We were up helping a kindergarten instructor friend prepare her room for the new year, and had just cut new calendar numbers out of lamination.) She was able to do so, only asking me a few times whether i wanted the lower numbers on top. This was a small victory in my eyes, a confirmation that she was still okay. Though it is somewhat sad for this to be my victory, that my brilliant mother can put 31 cards in numerical order.
The idea that this isn't really alzheimers still haunts me, the idea that it might be something infinitely curable, and i'm ignoring the treatment under the assumption that it is untreatable. i want to make her an appointment with a psychiatrist, just to be fully evaluated. This, of course, will cost money. we do what we can though, right?????
i've run around the block, speaking of money, of late trying to find ways to keep mom's. Basically, the end result is, that if she ever needs subsidized care, we cannot. They will take all of our inheritance (which we turned over to her years ago to manage for us), and they will force me to sell the house. There is no way easy, or even moderately difficult, way around it- she is being punished, in my eyes, for being responsible. My parents had our house paid off when i was a child, and they did not mortgage it. They were always very proud of this. She did not spend the inheritance when daddy died, she carefully saved it in an account for us. Now they will take this, to provide her with the same care they offer freely to those less responsible, who mortgaged their houses three times and squandered their money into thousands of dollars of debt. i'm going, i think, to talk to a recommended elder care attorney, but my tentative current plan, then, is to spend it. Spend it on her care, else they might make me pay it back, and spend it on house repairs (it being her house apparently that is accpetable in their eyes too.) For this year, while we sort this all out, i plan on setting an account up from this money to pay a companion while i'm at work. Next year we will revisit my move to lackawanna county to get her into the good adult day care.
For now, her attachment to this town is so strong i would hate to move her. This is against advice. People tell me that if i took her to the better program, she'd be better off. She would think she knew everyone anyway, and would adjust. i'm afraid, though, that to change her environment might cause a tramatic decline. Plus, she loves this town, and its people. Best yet, the people here know her. They are okay with her wandering, and her questions. The talk with her, and repeat themselves with a smile. If she is in trouble, they call me. People in an unknown town might not do so.
The bicentennial event was the highlight of her summer, i think. It was our borough's 150th anniversary, and our township's 200th. She spent most of the weekend at it, dressed up for most of it, talking with people, being recognized and loved. During the parade she was almost crying, and thanked God repeatedly for it, and that she had been allowed to see it. This is why we are staying here, in this run down house, at least in part. This is why i do not want to move her. She is still e., though he disease has changed who that is bit.
So much happens in my life; i'm going to endeavor to be more faithful in posting to this blog at least. This is where i chronicle my life most truthfully, perhaps. This is where i can tell stories like the one below. Because this is where i have anonymity; well relative anonymity. Those who have been given the link to this and know me in real life are those i trust not to take it amiss. i hope.
Mom is degrading. Not in any major way, and she is still very strong in many ways. Yesterday, as a test, i assigned her to put the calendar numbers in numerical order. (We were up helping a kindergarten instructor friend prepare her room for the new year, and had just cut new calendar numbers out of lamination.) She was able to do so, only asking me a few times whether i wanted the lower numbers on top. This was a small victory in my eyes, a confirmation that she was still okay. Though it is somewhat sad for this to be my victory, that my brilliant mother can put 31 cards in numerical order.
The idea that this isn't really alzheimers still haunts me, the idea that it might be something infinitely curable, and i'm ignoring the treatment under the assumption that it is untreatable. i want to make her an appointment with a psychiatrist, just to be fully evaluated. This, of course, will cost money. we do what we can though, right?????
i've run around the block, speaking of money, of late trying to find ways to keep mom's. Basically, the end result is, that if she ever needs subsidized care, we cannot. They will take all of our inheritance (which we turned over to her years ago to manage for us), and they will force me to sell the house. There is no way easy, or even moderately difficult, way around it- she is being punished, in my eyes, for being responsible. My parents had our house paid off when i was a child, and they did not mortgage it. They were always very proud of this. She did not spend the inheritance when daddy died, she carefully saved it in an account for us. Now they will take this, to provide her with the same care they offer freely to those less responsible, who mortgaged their houses three times and squandered their money into thousands of dollars of debt. i'm going, i think, to talk to a recommended elder care attorney, but my tentative current plan, then, is to spend it. Spend it on her care, else they might make me pay it back, and spend it on house repairs (it being her house apparently that is accpetable in their eyes too.) For this year, while we sort this all out, i plan on setting an account up from this money to pay a companion while i'm at work. Next year we will revisit my move to lackawanna county to get her into the good adult day care.
For now, her attachment to this town is so strong i would hate to move her. This is against advice. People tell me that if i took her to the better program, she'd be better off. She would think she knew everyone anyway, and would adjust. i'm afraid, though, that to change her environment might cause a tramatic decline. Plus, she loves this town, and its people. Best yet, the people here know her. They are okay with her wandering, and her questions. The talk with her, and repeat themselves with a smile. If she is in trouble, they call me. People in an unknown town might not do so.
The bicentennial event was the highlight of her summer, i think. It was our borough's 150th anniversary, and our township's 200th. She spent most of the weekend at it, dressed up for most of it, talking with people, being recognized and loved. During the parade she was almost crying, and thanked God repeatedly for it, and that she had been allowed to see it. This is why we are staying here, in this run down house, at least in part. This is why i do not want to move her. She is still e., though he disease has changed who that is bit.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
on three walks a day.....
So yesterday, along the lines of still alice and making the present memorable, we went for three walks. It was her fault, really, but it made her soooo happy to see buddy standing there, wagging his tail, and it opened up the opportunity for long walks together as i teased her about making me come- it was delightful. The dog didn't suffer, exercise is good fo both of us, it was just great.
Then, that evening, before the third walk, she started playing baseball with the triplets next door. See, in her former life, she and my daddy coached little league. It was a huge part of their lives for about twelve years- when he died unexpectedly the little league association retired the team. They were good at it, and for years mom continued to attend the games "her kids" played in, until they all began to graduate and did not play locally so much anymore. To watch her, then, pitching (with surprising accuracy) to a little league child again, it did us both so much good. She is still my mom, the person she was. She is not walking dementia. She is who she always was; it's just a little bit harder for that woman to reach out and connect with the world, and for the world to connect to her.
Part-way through the walk, we noticed that some of the younger kids we had just been playing with had had their kickball game taken over by the town's teenage "miscreants". These were kids who had been yelling out to mom all day, the kids she had in in-school suspension. i wasn't sure if they were making fun of her, or would treat her well, various kids had done both in the past. She's come down the stairs whispering about our first walk of today just now, so i'll have to finish this story later. :OD.
Then, that evening, before the third walk, she started playing baseball with the triplets next door. See, in her former life, she and my daddy coached little league. It was a huge part of their lives for about twelve years- when he died unexpectedly the little league association retired the team. They were good at it, and for years mom continued to attend the games "her kids" played in, until they all began to graduate and did not play locally so much anymore. To watch her, then, pitching (with surprising accuracy) to a little league child again, it did us both so much good. She is still my mom, the person she was. She is not walking dementia. She is who she always was; it's just a little bit harder for that woman to reach out and connect with the world, and for the world to connect to her.
Part-way through the walk, we noticed that some of the younger kids we had just been playing with had had their kickball game taken over by the town's teenage "miscreants". These were kids who had been yelling out to mom all day, the kids she had in in-school suspension. i wasn't sure if they were making fun of her, or would treat her well, various kids had done both in the past. She's come down the stairs whispering about our first walk of today just now, so i'll have to finish this story later. :OD.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
ain't life a mystery.....
It is much too late. It's 3:20 pm, and i've been reading for quite a while. The tears run down my face, and salt streaks have frozen and made it feel sticky. This is the sign of a good book. It is not the sign of a productive day, one i meant to spend cleaning, and calling to get out the money we need, and doing chores. i find myself not really feeling guilty, however.
i just finished "still alice" by lisa genova. i'd recommend this book to anyone, but it has special meaning for those of us touched by alzheimers, and those of us who know that there is a very real chance we may someday have it.
The book made me really consider this latter possibility, but it was in my mind from the House on Beartown Road as well. Like Ms. Cohen, i sometimes catch myself testing my memory, searching for break and blips which should cause concern. When you spend your time with the memory impaired, sometimes you almost become brought into their world. At times i need to stop and think of what day it is when mom asks. This is partially a result of not working, and partially, i think, the result of spending my time in her flux, an area where the day matters only in an inconsequential way, and what is now is what is vital.
Alzheimers is genetic. My grandpa had it, my mom has it (or some form of progressive dementia), and "alice" cites genetic markers that are associated with at least the early onset type. Children have a 50% chance of inheriting these markers, and people with them will get the disease. Part of me is frightened by this, but part of me is not. i may not live until my older years, though Lord willing i will. The job, at any age, is to live life the best you can, such that you would not have any regrets, and you try to please God.
The book also talks about people who are very intelligent being more likely to contract it, as if they use so much earlier in life that their brains are simply tired later. At times, this almost makes me scared, almost makes me, in irrational spurts, think it would be better to be less smart. This isn't something i truly feel or hope, however, merely something my mind formulates as a jerking smasmodic terror reaction and i pray that Lord willing this would not happen that my abilities and capabilities remain and i thank God for them.
Basically, i'm just being honest in this post. Sorry for the rambling nature. Sorry for the irrational nature. If i'm doing this, however, as an honest glimpse into what my life is like now, it is important that i write such tings down even if they are nonsensical. May nothing, Lord willing, bad come of them. Thank Him for everything!!!!! Perhaps the best thing i received from this book, the most worthwhile, is contemplation on keeping mom where she is. In the book alice, the main character, wants to remain in cambridge. When she is taken elsewhere, even to her vacation home in one scene, she is agitated, and wants to return. i struggle so with the decision to either take mom somewhere where she can get better care, or leave her here in familiar surroundings. She does not want to go, however, she has told me so. A few years ago, when the flood was threatening our home, and others were evacuating, she refused to leave. This is her home. How can i presume that i know best, and take her from what she knows????? Another great lesson from the book is when alice is talking of her own experiences as someone with the disease. She asks those present to look her in the eye and remember that she still can make decisions, that she is still herself. She also points out that the past is foggy, and the future uncertain, but she can live in the present. Let's all make the present as pleasant as possible, whether it will be remembered or not, okay?????
i just finished "still alice" by lisa genova. i'd recommend this book to anyone, but it has special meaning for those of us touched by alzheimers, and those of us who know that there is a very real chance we may someday have it.
The book made me really consider this latter possibility, but it was in my mind from the House on Beartown Road as well. Like Ms. Cohen, i sometimes catch myself testing my memory, searching for break and blips which should cause concern. When you spend your time with the memory impaired, sometimes you almost become brought into their world. At times i need to stop and think of what day it is when mom asks. This is partially a result of not working, and partially, i think, the result of spending my time in her flux, an area where the day matters only in an inconsequential way, and what is now is what is vital.
Alzheimers is genetic. My grandpa had it, my mom has it (or some form of progressive dementia), and "alice" cites genetic markers that are associated with at least the early onset type. Children have a 50% chance of inheriting these markers, and people with them will get the disease. Part of me is frightened by this, but part of me is not. i may not live until my older years, though Lord willing i will. The job, at any age, is to live life the best you can, such that you would not have any regrets, and you try to please God.
The book also talks about people who are very intelligent being more likely to contract it, as if they use so much earlier in life that their brains are simply tired later. At times, this almost makes me scared, almost makes me, in irrational spurts, think it would be better to be less smart. This isn't something i truly feel or hope, however, merely something my mind formulates as a jerking smasmodic terror reaction and i pray that Lord willing this would not happen that my abilities and capabilities remain and i thank God for them.
Basically, i'm just being honest in this post. Sorry for the rambling nature. Sorry for the irrational nature. If i'm doing this, however, as an honest glimpse into what my life is like now, it is important that i write such tings down even if they are nonsensical. May nothing, Lord willing, bad come of them. Thank Him for everything!!!!! Perhaps the best thing i received from this book, the most worthwhile, is contemplation on keeping mom where she is. In the book alice, the main character, wants to remain in cambridge. When she is taken elsewhere, even to her vacation home in one scene, she is agitated, and wants to return. i struggle so with the decision to either take mom somewhere where she can get better care, or leave her here in familiar surroundings. She does not want to go, however, she has told me so. A few years ago, when the flood was threatening our home, and others were evacuating, she refused to leave. This is her home. How can i presume that i know best, and take her from what she knows????? Another great lesson from the book is when alice is talking of her own experiences as someone with the disease. She asks those present to look her in the eye and remember that she still can make decisions, that she is still herself. She also points out that the past is foggy, and the future uncertain, but she can live in the present. Let's all make the present as pleasant as possible, whether it will be remembered or not, okay?????
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)