I haven't done much surfing since my mom got sick.
Since 1997, I was surfing every weekend with my boyfriend, John.
We'd get off work on Friday and drive directly to the surf spot, where we would stay until late Sunday afternoon before heading back to town.
We spent the entire day near the water. When when we weren't riding waves, we were watching them; or talking with friends, napping in the Volkswagon vans, or making tea on the propane stove. But, when mom got sick, surfing began to close out. So did my relationship.
My parents were living at the beach when mom first started having difficulty.
So, as John and I raced to the beach each weekend to forget about work and responsibilities, I began to feel guilty for not being with my folks. I thought it hurt them to know I was somewhere at the beach, but not with them. After awhile, I couldn't justify my joy anymore. So, John went his way, and I went mine.
Now, I paint pictures of the ocean, and think a lot about surfing.
I don't know if I will get another chance to live that life again. But, I'm hoping I will.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Vows
After talking with my dad's sister tonight about why he doesn't want to move mom into a nursing home or foster home, she told me that he said, "till death do us part". So, I may have been wrong in my speculation about why Dad won't put mom in a care facility. At first, I thought it was the shock of the expense, and the "spend down" in order to qualify for Medicaid, and his belief that she will be neglected in one of "those places". Then, I thought he was afraid of feeling some kind of guilt if he moved her into a facility. Then, I thought perhaps he made some kind of promise to her in the last few years. But, my aunt said that he feels he needs to take care of mom because of the vows they made when they got married. What can you say to that.
While my mom suffers with the disease, my dad suffers too. He isn't free to live his life as fully as he could. He still sleeps in the same bed with her, partly because its natural and partly because she is looking for him. She insists upon holding his hand while she sleeps. Her nightmares cause her to call out in the dark, which makes it hard to rest beside her. Sometimes she tries to get out of bed, and falls to the floor. I hear the "thump"and run across the hall to see dad picking her up and and taking her the bathroom. It makes for a rough night.
Dad doesn't have many social outlets and he doesn't go to mass anymore. That's because there is no one to watch over mom while I'm away. He could go to mass, and do other things on the weekend, if he would allow someone other than me to be a part of the care giving team. But, he's not ready for whatever reason. So, he doesn't see his friends and doesn't go to church.
I think he is losing some of his faith. I've been hinting to my sister and brother that someone invite Dad to Christmas mass so that he won't be alone on such a special day. We'll see what happens. I'll be here to look after mom, so for sure he can go to mass. I just don't want him to go alone.
He wants to take a welding class, which I think it great. The class is for 11 weeks, half days on Saturdays. I guess I could change my schedule and go to the beach two other days during the week, so that he could take this class and go to mass on Sunday. It didn't dawn on me till just now. The one problem is, that if I find a job in the next 3 months who'll take over my post?
Again, the issue of not having another trained helper comes up. I wish he could see how important this is. But, he doesn't want to have a stranger in the house and he doesn't want to pay the hourly fee. So, I don't know how we are to make plans and proceed.
While my mom suffers with the disease, my dad suffers too. He isn't free to live his life as fully as he could. He still sleeps in the same bed with her, partly because its natural and partly because she is looking for him. She insists upon holding his hand while she sleeps. Her nightmares cause her to call out in the dark, which makes it hard to rest beside her. Sometimes she tries to get out of bed, and falls to the floor. I hear the "thump"and run across the hall to see dad picking her up and and taking her the bathroom. It makes for a rough night.
Dad doesn't have many social outlets and he doesn't go to mass anymore. That's because there is no one to watch over mom while I'm away. He could go to mass, and do other things on the weekend, if he would allow someone other than me to be a part of the care giving team. But, he's not ready for whatever reason. So, he doesn't see his friends and doesn't go to church.
I think he is losing some of his faith. I've been hinting to my sister and brother that someone invite Dad to Christmas mass so that he won't be alone on such a special day. We'll see what happens. I'll be here to look after mom, so for sure he can go to mass. I just don't want him to go alone.
He wants to take a welding class, which I think it great. The class is for 11 weeks, half days on Saturdays. I guess I could change my schedule and go to the beach two other days during the week, so that he could take this class and go to mass on Sunday. It didn't dawn on me till just now. The one problem is, that if I find a job in the next 3 months who'll take over my post?
Again, the issue of not having another trained helper comes up. I wish he could see how important this is. But, he doesn't want to have a stranger in the house and he doesn't want to pay the hourly fee. So, I don't know how we are to make plans and proceed.
Monday, December 15, 2008
December Chills
It's December 15th and Christmas is almost here. We had a bad winter storm come over Portland and the north coast this week, so I didn't drive to the beach for the usual weekend break. Instead, I stayed home with mom and dad and made holiday cards in between the usual caregiving duties.
It's good that my dad and I are a team because caring for someone with advance Alzheimer's is way too much work and intensity for one person. As a team, we tag off when the other runs out of patience.
Sometimes though, you just run out of juice. Even though you love the person, something inside you gets so tapped out, I don't know how to describe it.
Me, I get anxious when I don't get a break after so many days. That's why the drive to the beach is so important. I get to exercise, meditate, look at the waves, watch the surfers and get lost in deep sleep. Even talking to the neighbors, or sweeping pine needles off the driveway is a golden reprieve.
My Mom is restless. She wants to get out of bed and into the wheelchair and be taken to the kitchen table. We offer her liquids, healthy snacks, and try to keep her with us awhile, but soon as she gets to the table she wants to go back to her bed. And so it goes. This is where we start to wear thin on patience, because we can't seem to make her comfortable in either location. So we dance. Back and forth all day from bedroom to kitchen. We've worn a path in the carpet and nicked the doorways so badly with the wheelchair that the wood trim will one day need to be replaced. It's not important, just a side effect of having an old wheelchair in a house not designed for one.
My dad is suffering with depression. He thinks this is now his lot in life, and that putting my mom in a home would be "acting like a cold fish". He thinks God has forgotten him. He doesn't see the joys of the day. He can't recognize a nice hot meal, a flower, a day when mom is smiling as a simple joy. He is quite miserable. I've tried talking to him about getting away, seeing someone, walking, socializing, etc. But, he's angry and stuck in his darkness. So my suggestions are irritating and Pollyanna-ish.
Dad won't let us ask for outside help even though we've qualified for Hospice.
Its very frustrating, because I have no control about the decision he makes for her care, even though I try to help him figure it out. Maybe its his Catholic upbringing that imprisons him. Or, he's just too depressed to see his choices rationally. I don't know. So I hold my tongue.
It's good that my dad and I are a team because caring for someone with advance Alzheimer's is way too much work and intensity for one person. As a team, we tag off when the other runs out of patience.
Sometimes though, you just run out of juice. Even though you love the person, something inside you gets so tapped out, I don't know how to describe it.
Me, I get anxious when I don't get a break after so many days. That's why the drive to the beach is so important. I get to exercise, meditate, look at the waves, watch the surfers and get lost in deep sleep. Even talking to the neighbors, or sweeping pine needles off the driveway is a golden reprieve.
My Mom is restless. She wants to get out of bed and into the wheelchair and be taken to the kitchen table. We offer her liquids, healthy snacks, and try to keep her with us awhile, but soon as she gets to the table she wants to go back to her bed. And so it goes. This is where we start to wear thin on patience, because we can't seem to make her comfortable in either location. So we dance. Back and forth all day from bedroom to kitchen. We've worn a path in the carpet and nicked the doorways so badly with the wheelchair that the wood trim will one day need to be replaced. It's not important, just a side effect of having an old wheelchair in a house not designed for one.
My dad is suffering with depression. He thinks this is now his lot in life, and that putting my mom in a home would be "acting like a cold fish". He thinks God has forgotten him. He doesn't see the joys of the day. He can't recognize a nice hot meal, a flower, a day when mom is smiling as a simple joy. He is quite miserable. I've tried talking to him about getting away, seeing someone, walking, socializing, etc. But, he's angry and stuck in his darkness. So my suggestions are irritating and Pollyanna-ish.
Dad won't let us ask for outside help even though we've qualified for Hospice.
Its very frustrating, because I have no control about the decision he makes for her care, even though I try to help him figure it out. Maybe its his Catholic upbringing that imprisons him. Or, he's just too depressed to see his choices rationally. I don't know. So I hold my tongue.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Rains are here
Its November and Thanksgiving is almost here.
I wonder if this will be the last one we will share with my mom.
It would be cruel if she were to continue this way into 2009.
I walk by her bedroom to see if her eyes are open or closed.
If she's awake, I crawl up on the bed and lay beside her.
We hold hands and she sometimes smiles. She has a white teddy bear in her arms which she indicates is her friend. She says a little sentence and we pretend we are having a conversation.
I've been interviewing for jobs again, and soon I will be back in the working world, doing something that doesn't really matter. I'd like to stay with her, but I have to pay the bills and the mortgage, so I'm trying to make the most out of being here with her now.
This December 27th will be my parents 50th wedding anniversary.
I hope she's with us until then. I wonder if this is something my dad thinks about.
They always made a big deal of the number of years they were married.
Maybe I should go out and buy them a traditional "50 Years" platter to mark the day.
Its hard to care about anything these days. My dad and I don't enjoy our food anymore. I make great soup or even a chocolate cake - but they seem void of flavor.
I can't sleep much, so I get up early and try to write. My dad tinkers on things in the garage.
I think its so apprapo that winter is coming. The leaves are almost gone and the wind and rains are here. It seems like nature is mimicking what's happening with my mom. Surprisingly, the last of the roses are on our table. My dad rescued 4 yellow rose buds and put them in a vase on the kitchen table. Now they are in bloom.
Yellow is my mom's best color, go figure.
I wonder if this will be the last one we will share with my mom.
It would be cruel if she were to continue this way into 2009.
I walk by her bedroom to see if her eyes are open or closed.
If she's awake, I crawl up on the bed and lay beside her.
We hold hands and she sometimes smiles. She has a white teddy bear in her arms which she indicates is her friend. She says a little sentence and we pretend we are having a conversation.
I've been interviewing for jobs again, and soon I will be back in the working world, doing something that doesn't really matter. I'd like to stay with her, but I have to pay the bills and the mortgage, so I'm trying to make the most out of being here with her now.
This December 27th will be my parents 50th wedding anniversary.
I hope she's with us until then. I wonder if this is something my dad thinks about.
They always made a big deal of the number of years they were married.
Maybe I should go out and buy them a traditional "50 Years" platter to mark the day.
Its hard to care about anything these days. My dad and I don't enjoy our food anymore. I make great soup or even a chocolate cake - but they seem void of flavor.
I can't sleep much, so I get up early and try to write. My dad tinkers on things in the garage.
I think its so apprapo that winter is coming. The leaves are almost gone and the wind and rains are here. It seems like nature is mimicking what's happening with my mom. Surprisingly, the last of the roses are on our table. My dad rescued 4 yellow rose buds and put them in a vase on the kitchen table. Now they are in bloom.
Yellow is my mom's best color, go figure.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Leaves are Falling
My mom doesn't know who I am any longer.
But sometimes she thinks I'm funny and tells me so.
Most of the time her words are jibberish, and I pretend I understand.
But on occassion, she is clear.
Yesterday she said, "You're the strong one". That was a surprise.
Was it what she intended to say, or just an accident?
In the past she has said things like, "You're a nice lady", or "You're pretty".
But, her last comment seemed so insightful.
I wish I knew what was going on inside her head.
I think I could do a better job of making her comfortable.
We saw the doctors this week. Their reports weren't good.
"Keep her comfortable", was the jist of it.
They did some testing and found she has no circulation below her knees due to atherosclerosis (as if Alzheimer's wasn't enough).
So that's why she's not walking much. The blood vessels and arteries are almost completely closed. "Hospice isn't far away", they told us.
But sometimes she thinks I'm funny and tells me so.
Most of the time her words are jibberish, and I pretend I understand.
But on occassion, she is clear.
Yesterday she said, "You're the strong one". That was a surprise.
Was it what she intended to say, or just an accident?
In the past she has said things like, "You're a nice lady", or "You're pretty".
But, her last comment seemed so insightful.
I wish I knew what was going on inside her head.
I think I could do a better job of making her comfortable.
We saw the doctors this week. Their reports weren't good.
"Keep her comfortable", was the jist of it.
They did some testing and found she has no circulation below her knees due to atherosclerosis (as if Alzheimer's wasn't enough).
So that's why she's not walking much. The blood vessels and arteries are almost completely closed. "Hospice isn't far away", they told us.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Autumn brings change
She can no longer walk. As of last Friday, actually, she couldn't stand or put pressure on her feet. Its wierd. One day she's shuffling from the bedroom to the kitchen almost every 15 minutes. The next day, she can't hold herself up.
We tried using a walker that we had here at the house, but she could not hold herself up. So, my dad went and got a wheelchair.
It helped a little, but neither of us has much experience with transfering. I think I hurt my back trying to pick her up yesturday. She's like a bag of sand. Heavy, weighty. Now, Dad is touring care facilities. Looking for something suitable and affordable. He tells me the starting price is $4100/month and the prices goes up from there. The selling points they lace in their pitch such as: daily activities, brightly colored rooms, flat screen tvs, etc. really don't have much revelence in our case because she sleeps most of the time. We wake her to offer her water and food or to check on her bathroom needs. That's it. She has little interest in food, people or her surroundings. It's amazing how things have changed from a week ago. Shocking actually. And I'd really like to leave. Run away. Go surfing. Put my head in the frigid water and shock my ears with the sound of crashing waves. Yesterday, I actually visualized packing my van and driving away. I was going to tell my dad that I reached my threshold and can no longer deal. I was planning to drive to the beach house where I would be safely away from the pain of watching them both suffer. But, I'm still here. Trapped in a way. Because, how can I leave. She's my mom.
We tried using a walker that we had here at the house, but she could not hold herself up. So, my dad went and got a wheelchair.
It helped a little, but neither of us has much experience with transfering. I think I hurt my back trying to pick her up yesturday. She's like a bag of sand. Heavy, weighty. Now, Dad is touring care facilities. Looking for something suitable and affordable. He tells me the starting price is $4100/month and the prices goes up from there. The selling points they lace in their pitch such as: daily activities, brightly colored rooms, flat screen tvs, etc. really don't have much revelence in our case because she sleeps most of the time. We wake her to offer her water and food or to check on her bathroom needs. That's it. She has little interest in food, people or her surroundings. It's amazing how things have changed from a week ago. Shocking actually. And I'd really like to leave. Run away. Go surfing. Put my head in the frigid water and shock my ears with the sound of crashing waves. Yesterday, I actually visualized packing my van and driving away. I was going to tell my dad that I reached my threshold and can no longer deal. I was planning to drive to the beach house where I would be safely away from the pain of watching them both suffer. But, I'm still here. Trapped in a way. Because, how can I leave. She's my mom.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Blessings
Last weekend, after a difficult week with mom, I drove the beach with my sister her kids and an old friend
who had just moved back to town. The weather was supposed to be beautiful, and it was.
Saturday morning, before going into town for breakfast, I drove west to take a quick glance at the ocean.
It's always beautiful, and for me it sets the tone for the day.
I need to look at the sea before I do anything. I'm not sure why, but it plants a picture in my head of what is happening at that very moment. It tells me what mood the ocean is in.
Sometimes it beckons me so strongly, I can't get the image out of my head.
When that happens, I plan the day accordingly with a book and a blanket, a run, or surfing, rather than starting up some project in the garden.
It was about 7:30am. We were headed back towards the house and there, at the edge of the road was a bull elk. Huge. Magnificent. With a large rack on his head. He stood there, staring at us seemingly without a care. I was squeezing Shannon's forearm. Both of us whispering, "Oh, my gosh". We turned off the engine and watched him, slowly, gracefully walk into the brush, head held high, towards a second bull elk. They bowed their heads and began clacking their antlers together, pushing back and forth. We were awestruck.
Hot steam, like smoke came out of their mouths and nostrils. Though quiet, we could hear their force as they snorted and dug their hoofs into the wet ground. A rare and lucky view of nature.
The first thing that came to mind was the eagle I saw three weeks ago, and the whales who visited last weekend. Back in the city, I told my friend Christine, "All I need now is to see a lion". And low and behold, the elk! I wonder why we are so blessed with these rare visitations from Gods creatures. I wonder what it means. I want there to be some great message in it for me.
It's not a fortune cookie, its not a horoscope, its not man made or contrived. Its nature, still breaking through the man made world to connect with us. But why?
who had just moved back to town. The weather was supposed to be beautiful, and it was.
Saturday morning, before going into town for breakfast, I drove west to take a quick glance at the ocean.
It's always beautiful, and for me it sets the tone for the day.
I need to look at the sea before I do anything. I'm not sure why, but it plants a picture in my head of what is happening at that very moment. It tells me what mood the ocean is in.
Sometimes it beckons me so strongly, I can't get the image out of my head.
When that happens, I plan the day accordingly with a book and a blanket, a run, or surfing, rather than starting up some project in the garden.
It was about 7:30am. We were headed back towards the house and there, at the edge of the road was a bull elk. Huge. Magnificent. With a large rack on his head. He stood there, staring at us seemingly without a care. I was squeezing Shannon's forearm. Both of us whispering, "Oh, my gosh". We turned off the engine and watched him, slowly, gracefully walk into the brush, head held high, towards a second bull elk. They bowed their heads and began clacking their antlers together, pushing back and forth. We were awestruck.
Hot steam, like smoke came out of their mouths and nostrils. Though quiet, we could hear their force as they snorted and dug their hoofs into the wet ground. A rare and lucky view of nature.
The first thing that came to mind was the eagle I saw three weeks ago, and the whales who visited last weekend. Back in the city, I told my friend Christine, "All I need now is to see a lion". And low and behold, the elk! I wonder why we are so blessed with these rare visitations from Gods creatures. I wonder what it means. I want there to be some great message in it for me.
It's not a fortune cookie, its not a horoscope, its not man made or contrived. Its nature, still breaking through the man made world to connect with us. But why?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Whales
I have a little house at the beach. So on Friday evenings I drive there for a short reprieve. I usually stop by the "Cove", to see who's out in the evening surf. This time, there were only 3, bobbing like seals waiting for a set. The light was beautiful as the sun began to drop over the horizon, glittering on the waves, casting a peachy color over the rocks and sand. I would have suited up if my board and wetsuit were with me. By the time I got to the house is was almost dark. I unpacked my things, turned on the heat, made some tea and popped in a movie. I needed to decompress.
Sleep is so different at the beach. The air is thick and heavy there. It presses down on you as you sleep. Sometimes its hard to wake up feeling refreshed because you get down so deep into the dream state. Your eyes don't want to open and your pulse seems slower than normal. It's an uphill climb back to reality.
I made my usual morning trek to the ocean at 8. When I hit the top of the road, I saw them. They were sending spray high up into the sky. The whales! My eyes teared a little over my surprise . Its been a while, and I had forgotten them. When I was surfing regularly I could always spot one or two out there somewhere. Standing guard for me. Its kind of a personal thing I have for the whales. I've always loved them. Once, a shaman told me they were my power animal, which was kind of a, "Duh".
They were in close, just beyond the breakers. I couldn't tell how many there were in the pod, but it didn't matter. The ocean was glassy and calm. "Hello", I said out loud (knowing I was alone), "I've missed you". The mist was just beginning to rise off the sea and I could see all the way up and down the beach. It was just me, the whales, and the lone osprey hovering overhead. They were directly in front of me as I walked to the waters edge in hopes of absorbing everything. Their barnacled backs rolling through the water, their side fins pointing to the sky, tips shimmering in the sun, the sound of their powerful airy blows. What a show!
I was grateful to see them again. My heart overflowed with joy. It felt like guardian angels might be nearby. In that moment, it felt as though everything was going to be o.k.
Sleep is so different at the beach. The air is thick and heavy there. It presses down on you as you sleep. Sometimes its hard to wake up feeling refreshed because you get down so deep into the dream state. Your eyes don't want to open and your pulse seems slower than normal. It's an uphill climb back to reality.
I made my usual morning trek to the ocean at 8. When I hit the top of the road, I saw them. They were sending spray high up into the sky. The whales! My eyes teared a little over my surprise . Its been a while, and I had forgotten them. When I was surfing regularly I could always spot one or two out there somewhere. Standing guard for me. Its kind of a personal thing I have for the whales. I've always loved them. Once, a shaman told me they were my power animal, which was kind of a, "Duh".
They were in close, just beyond the breakers. I couldn't tell how many there were in the pod, but it didn't matter. The ocean was glassy and calm. "Hello", I said out loud (knowing I was alone), "I've missed you". The mist was just beginning to rise off the sea and I could see all the way up and down the beach. It was just me, the whales, and the lone osprey hovering overhead. They were directly in front of me as I walked to the waters edge in hopes of absorbing everything. Their barnacled backs rolling through the water, their side fins pointing to the sky, tips shimmering in the sun, the sound of their powerful airy blows. What a show!
I was grateful to see them again. My heart overflowed with joy. It felt like guardian angels might be nearby. In that moment, it felt as though everything was going to be o.k.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tour of Duty
Mom and I were sitting in lounge chairs in the backyard today eating popcicles. How cool is that!
Clearly, this is far more important work than sitting in an air conditioned conference room debating about some corporate marketing plan that's for sure. What could be more important? I'd like to know.
To bring you up to speed, I quit my job about a month ago. And while I'm hunting for my new post, I decided to move home to help care for my 70 year old mom, Patty, who has advanced Alzheimer's. I was trying to give support on weekends and holidays, but dad needs so much more help. He calls me daily to share his frustrations, ask for help and sometimes just freak out. So, why not.
I'm not sure how long this tour of duty will last. But, I'll tell you this. I can't image being anywhere else right now. Once I moved in, and fully understood the bizzare happenings, it became clear to me that I must be here.
Clearly, this is far more important work than sitting in an air conditioned conference room debating about some corporate marketing plan that's for sure. What could be more important? I'd like to know.
To bring you up to speed, I quit my job about a month ago. And while I'm hunting for my new post, I decided to move home to help care for my 70 year old mom, Patty, who has advanced Alzheimer's. I was trying to give support on weekends and holidays, but dad needs so much more help. He calls me daily to share his frustrations, ask for help and sometimes just freak out. So, why not.
I'm not sure how long this tour of duty will last. But, I'll tell you this. I can't image being anywhere else right now. Once I moved in, and fully understood the bizzare happenings, it became clear to me that I must be here.
Hair Salon Day
Yesturday was hair salon day for my mom. Its always dicey if we can get her in the car, as she sometimes is resistant to going. But, yesturday was successful. A sweet young girl meets us at the door and takes mom by the hand to her station. For a minute, my mom feels pretty, holds her head up, stands a little straighter, flirts for a second or two with my dad when we get home, then goes back to bed. When she wakes up, the hairdo is gone, but its o.k.
You know how Alzheimer's folks forget. That also means they can't remember when they've just eaten. Besides not remembering the pleasure of a juicy popcicle on their tongue, they also don't get the sensation of being full. Yesturday mom was starving.
She actually paced around the kitchen waiting for me to prepare food, after each meal had been cleared. It made her a bit frustrated, because she needs me to understand and to react,
since she cannot prepare food herself. Imagine standing in your own kitchen and feeling so hungry, but not knowing how to get food yourself, and to have to wait for someone to understand what you need. That's a bummer.
At times, mom tries to strike up a conversation with me. She askes, "how are your kids"?
It takes me a while to explain that I am single with no husband or children. I don't think she buys it.
Today I'll take mom and go running again at the track. She'll watch me from the van and wave each time I pass. Perhaps her mom and sisters will come and visit her again (she imagines). As long as her day dreams are pleasant, we're doing o.k.
xoxoKristine
You know how Alzheimer's folks forget. That also means they can't remember when they've just eaten. Besides not remembering the pleasure of a juicy popcicle on their tongue, they also don't get the sensation of being full. Yesturday mom was starving.
She actually paced around the kitchen waiting for me to prepare food, after each meal had been cleared. It made her a bit frustrated, because she needs me to understand and to react,
since she cannot prepare food herself. Imagine standing in your own kitchen and feeling so hungry, but not knowing how to get food yourself, and to have to wait for someone to understand what you need. That's a bummer.
At times, mom tries to strike up a conversation with me. She askes, "how are your kids"?
It takes me a while to explain that I am single with no husband or children. I don't think she buys it.
Today I'll take mom and go running again at the track. She'll watch me from the van and wave each time I pass. Perhaps her mom and sisters will come and visit her again (she imagines). As long as her day dreams are pleasant, we're doing o.k.
xoxoKristine
Bobbing
My dad only called me twice last weekend to tell me that mom was looking for me, and that she was sitting at the dining room table staring at the vase of flowers and wanted to go home.
Mom tells us often that she wants to go home. And when we say, "this is your home, Mom", she gets frustrated. So, I told my dad to try and change her context. My trick is to turn on some Dean Martin tunes, and break out the peanut butter and graham crackers. Usually that works. Thank goodness he tried it. Otherwise, he would have asked me to come home early.
Theraputically speaking, I get really good results with songs such as, "Welcome To My World", and "Ain't That a Kick in the Head", by Dean Martin. They are perfect songs for my mom. She remembers them a little, and tries to form the words and sing along.
Another big hit is, "Que sera sera" (Whatever Will Be Will Be), by Doris Day. Mom used to sing that to us when we were kids. So, this one's a winner too. I usually sing it when we're doing the big wash up in the bathroom each morning. Helps us both, really.
There's a little irony in the title of those songs, don't you think?
I took mom with me over to the high school track, to give Dad some space. I ran around the soccer fields while she watched me from the van. Stopping by her window at every lap, to reasure her she wasn't alone. We did ok. But, while I was running, she was sure her mom and sisters came by and spoke to her. She was so happy.
And said they were all up at the house (supposedly) waiting for us. I went along with it. Fortunately, she forgot by the time we got home. I was worried she was going to be very disappointed. But I got lucky.
Here's a little bonus about Alzheimer's people. Since many of them don't remember the last 15 minutes, some things can be a repetitive surprise. As with my mom. She's often smiling at me affectionately, asking, "Where have you been? I've missed you? Will you stay with me?"
That's pretty cool in my book. It's kind of like the movie, "50 First Dates", only different.
Talk to you soon.
xoxo Kristine
Mom tells us often that she wants to go home. And when we say, "this is your home, Mom", she gets frustrated. So, I told my dad to try and change her context. My trick is to turn on some Dean Martin tunes, and break out the peanut butter and graham crackers. Usually that works. Thank goodness he tried it. Otherwise, he would have asked me to come home early.
Theraputically speaking, I get really good results with songs such as, "Welcome To My World", and "Ain't That a Kick in the Head", by Dean Martin. They are perfect songs for my mom. She remembers them a little, and tries to form the words and sing along.
Another big hit is, "Que sera sera" (Whatever Will Be Will Be), by Doris Day. Mom used to sing that to us when we were kids. So, this one's a winner too. I usually sing it when we're doing the big wash up in the bathroom each morning. Helps us both, really.
There's a little irony in the title of those songs, don't you think?
I took mom with me over to the high school track, to give Dad some space. I ran around the soccer fields while she watched me from the van. Stopping by her window at every lap, to reasure her she wasn't alone. We did ok. But, while I was running, she was sure her mom and sisters came by and spoke to her. She was so happy.
And said they were all up at the house (supposedly) waiting for us. I went along with it. Fortunately, she forgot by the time we got home. I was worried she was going to be very disappointed. But I got lucky.
Here's a little bonus about Alzheimer's people. Since many of them don't remember the last 15 minutes, some things can be a repetitive surprise. As with my mom. She's often smiling at me affectionately, asking, "Where have you been? I've missed you? Will you stay with me?"
That's pretty cool in my book. It's kind of like the movie, "50 First Dates", only different.
Talk to you soon.
xoxo Kristine
Drifting
My mom is calling me Gigi today. Not sure why, but I respond.
I made her peanut butter on graham crackers with grapes on the side.
She loves peanut butter.
I've completed the usual morning routine, coaching her as she takes her meds, 11 pills in all,
not including the fish oil, flax oil and calcium that my dad supplements.
She forgets between each pill what she is supposed to do.
So I tell her, "place this one on your tongue, don't chew it, now take a sip of water to rinse it down."
I'm worried she is going to try and chew the fish oil. That will make us both gag.
I applied for a job with the Alzheirmer's Association for the Help Hotline.
It pays $15.00 per hour and I was thinking I could do it from home. I'm a perfect candidate. When people call, I will tell them, from my own personal experience, to forget about any kind of assistance, its a joke, and just start drinking. It truly is just a cruel cruel joke.
Ever work with Depends? Ever notice the enginuity of the undergarments for adults? Facinating.
No wonder that fatal attraction astronaut drove across county after her man wearing diapers.
They really keep you feeling dry. (Truth, if one of you ever has the opportunity to have to diaper one of your parents --feel free to contact me. I'll be there to talk you through it.)
I had a nice weekend. I left town on Friday afternoon and drove to my beach house at break-neck speed, with my painting supplies in tow. I spread everything out in the garage, including my giant black leather portfolio containing works from over 15 years ago. Nothing rang my sentimental bell though. So, I'm thinking of dropping the whole thing off at the Rag-N-Bone (it's like the Goodwill) in Seaside. Maybe someone can use the portfolio. Then, I popeed in some some Dave Mathews, poured a little glass of wine diluted with water (because I really don't want to become an alcoholic), set up a canvas and began to paint. It felt pretty good.
Oh, I must tell you. On my walk to the beach Sunday morning, a beautiful bald eagle flew beside me. He was only 4 or 5 yards away from me, at shoulder level. I was awe struck. It seemed like a gigantic gift in some way. I just know if I were Native American I would understand the meaning. And that is how I drove back to Portland on Sunday, remembering the eagle and feeling blessed.
I hope all of you have a great week. Its going to be beautiful.
xoxo Kristine
I made her peanut butter on graham crackers with grapes on the side.
She loves peanut butter.
I've completed the usual morning routine, coaching her as she takes her meds, 11 pills in all,
not including the fish oil, flax oil and calcium that my dad supplements.
She forgets between each pill what she is supposed to do.
So I tell her, "place this one on your tongue, don't chew it, now take a sip of water to rinse it down."
I'm worried she is going to try and chew the fish oil. That will make us both gag.
I applied for a job with the Alzheirmer's Association for the Help Hotline.
It pays $15.00 per hour and I was thinking I could do it from home. I'm a perfect candidate. When people call, I will tell them, from my own personal experience, to forget about any kind of assistance, its a joke, and just start drinking. It truly is just a cruel cruel joke.
Ever work with Depends? Ever notice the enginuity of the undergarments for adults? Facinating.
No wonder that fatal attraction astronaut drove across county after her man wearing diapers.
They really keep you feeling dry. (Truth, if one of you ever has the opportunity to have to diaper one of your parents --feel free to contact me. I'll be there to talk you through it.)
I had a nice weekend. I left town on Friday afternoon and drove to my beach house at break-neck speed, with my painting supplies in tow. I spread everything out in the garage, including my giant black leather portfolio containing works from over 15 years ago. Nothing rang my sentimental bell though. So, I'm thinking of dropping the whole thing off at the Rag-N-Bone (it's like the Goodwill) in Seaside. Maybe someone can use the portfolio. Then, I popeed in some some Dave Mathews, poured a little glass of wine diluted with water (because I really don't want to become an alcoholic), set up a canvas and began to paint. It felt pretty good.
Oh, I must tell you. On my walk to the beach Sunday morning, a beautiful bald eagle flew beside me. He was only 4 or 5 yards away from me, at shoulder level. I was awe struck. It seemed like a gigantic gift in some way. I just know if I were Native American I would understand the meaning. And that is how I drove back to Portland on Sunday, remembering the eagle and feeling blessed.
I hope all of you have a great week. Its going to be beautiful.
xoxo Kristine
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