Author: AdjunctWizard

Chicken Vegetable Soup

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After our great time at the Purple Poulet a couple days ago, we brought home a lot of chicken. I wrote earlier that it was the best chicken I have had for some time. Leftovers do not keep forever, however, so with 4+ inches of snow on the ground and Cincinnati playing Buffalo again, it seems like a good day to use the last of the chicken for soup.

I called our neighbor and friend Jan and explained my plan. She came over at halftime. She is a bigger football fan than I am. We left the TV on through grace. The Lord will understand.

Jane’s back was bugging her and has been for some time. She left early to lay on her own floor and stretch and do leg lifts while watching the football game. (She did not want my yoga mat.)

The soup turned out great. And except for Jane’s back stealing the show, it was a good evening.

Carpe Diem.

A Great Time

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We went out with friends to a new restaurant. We had to be seated on the second floor. There was a ladies room on the second floor.

What a relief it was to us both.

Not the most appropriate opening to a story about going out to dinner with friends but parkinson makes the very small things in life into major obstacles. Those need not be obstacles but they can win out in the “Is it hard? v. Is it easy?” tug-of-war that enters the discussion whenever any social activity happens.

I have written about women’s restrooms and some of those experiences. This is not a blog post about that. This is a story about how truly graceful are friends that Cheryl and I have in our life and have had for half a century. It starts with an email from Jan in early December proposing that we gather for dinner somewhere for our annual holiday gathering. Cheryl used to refer to this group as the defunct bridge group because although we used to play bridge at our gatherings, over time we simply gathered for a meal and socialization.

Jan suggested a few dates in January and suggested collecting at her house or a restaurant somewhere. I immediately voted for a restaurant somewhere for two reasons; it puts the eventual clean-up in someone else’s bailiwick, it gets Cheryl into a social situation were she does not believe she is a burden to anyone. (Grace on Cheryl’s part, she does not want to be a burden.) And besides, Gary and Jan go to restaurants that we might never pick just because of unfamiliarity. She picked the Purple Poulet in Newport Kentucky.

In a later email after Jan had confirmed the reservation, she wrote that we would be seated upstairs and asked if that would be a problem to anyone (grace – Jan did not single us out). I did not respond to her email because upstairs by itself is unimportant. It does tell me what equipment I might need. It also tells me that I need to call the restaurant to understand restroom facilities which I did not do. (no grace for me) Somehow with our narrow life activities, I never got around to calling the Purple Poulet and asking about ladies restrooms. I am not shy about that idea merely incompetent in this instance.

Yesterday was January 20th, the day that had been previously selected for our dinner gathering. Sherry called to ask if we would like to come to her house late in the afternoon for a drink and we would leave from her house to go to the restaurant which was a thirty minute drive through the center of town. (Grace on Sherry’s part for offering extra time to socialize and catch up.) Sherry has a sister who also has parkinson as a part of her life. Her sister is living in an institutionalized setting but Sherry spends a good amount of her time there. Cheryl is comfortable in conversation with Sherry and Sherry understands Cheryl’s difficulty with mobility and mental agility.

After I accepted Sherry’s invitation, we discussed restaurant steps, parking arrangements and restrooms facilities and, oh bye the way, if steps and restrooms were a problem, why did I not speak up? (She left out – you fool!) Sherry is too polite for that last part. She did start dialing the phone. Pretty soon it was all settled. We would meet at her house and ride to the restaurant in Gary’s GMC Acadia. (Grace to Gary and Sherry.) Sherry suggested that if the Ladies was downstairs which was my fear, we would just deal with it at arrival. (More grace to Sherry – her words – I’ll just tell Cheryl I have to go and we’ll go together when we get there.)

I managed to get Cheryl to Sherry’s house before everyone so that I could put our car deep into her driveway and out of the way. I was successful and the evening was all set. Denny and Katy arrived a few minutes after us. Gary and Jan arrived shortly thereafter. Sherry had drinks and snacks. For an hour or so we were surrounded by just friends not Parkinson. What a relief it was to us both.

It is not often that we acknowledge the kindness and graciousness in our life. There is no excuse for that. Many explanations but no excuse. This group of friends surrounded us with love and kindness and helpfulness and grace. For a few hours we, Cheryl and I, could just be. (Thank you, all.)

About the Purple Poulet; I linked their website to the first mention of them above. For me at least and I think Cheryl would agree it was a great dining experience. The restroom on the second floor was marked Ladies on the door near our table but was in fact a well appointed handicapped restroom. I have been in many. I know.

The steps turned twice and had handrails on both sides. If there is no elevator the next best thing is handrails on both side of the steps and a gentle slope to the stairway. Up is never a problem for Cheryl. Down, however, is a perceptual problem as well as a physical one. A short gentle run of steps is much less intimidating than a long or steep straight run. (grace to the stairway designer.) I have not gone down a set of steps with Cheryl forward for many years. (Sherry managed the walker while I was helping Cheryl manage the steps down – grace to Sherry.)

We both had their chicken. On their website they claim “The Best Fried Chicken by Southern Living” – It was the best fried chicken I have had in quite awhile.

This morning Cheryl is still sleeping. I am not but I should have skipped that second glass of Robt. Mondavi that I allowed myself because I was not driving to and from the restaurant. (no grace to me – grace to Gary for driving)

Carpe – the best fried chicken – Diem.

And surrounded by grace is another reason to stay connected.

Grace to you, Denny, Katy, Jan, Sherry and Gary for letting us simply be us.

The Evenings are Hardest

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With all of the memory, confusion, delusion and dementia issues that have come up in our life with parkinson, evenings put me on high alert for hints about where she is mentally.

Last evening was particularly troublesome and at the same time interesting about where her mind was. For the previous couple days she occasionally would tell me how much she liked this”place” better than the other one. When I probed a little bit I discovered that she seemed to think that we were trying this condo out before we bought it. last night she asked if we were going home tonight or if we would wait until tomorrow. (Carpe Diem!) I told her that I did not want to drive all the way home tonight. I thought it would be better for me if we slept her and left in the morning. She agreed that it would be better to get a good night’s rest before driving back home.

A different discussion started about what to take with us and when to pack. I suggested that we wait until the morning because any dirty laundry I could easily pack in a garbage bag. I would not have to be neat about packing. She said, or you could wash it in the morning before we leave. I readily agreed. There were two or three story lines going at the same time. There were condos in two different places, here and at home. But we were going there tomorrow.

It became important to inform her sister Nancy that we were coming home tomorrow. I sent a text message to her sister informing her that she might get an odd phone call in a little bit and to just go with it.

Cheryl decided to water the plants so that they would be okay while we were gone for a week. (Nice, we were coming back.) I kept my mouth shut and helped to fill the little measuring cup we use to water the house plants. The story was still unfolding as the evening went on.

It looked as though Nancy was off the hook for the phone call and I informed her about it. Cheryl shifted gears and called her other sister Debbie. (Smiley face) I did not see that coming.

I helped her dial the phone to talk to Debbie and scrabbled to text Debbie about what was happening. I was not fast enough and opted to talk over the top of Cheryl to quickly explain the purpose of the call. Deb caught on quickly and smoothly adjusted the topic to their cousin who was in the hospital and probably soon moving to a close by hospice facility. They talked about that for awhile.

When she hung up I informed her that I had texted Nancy and told her that if Nancy needed more information about where we were or our other travel arrangements she could ask Deb. Cheryl replied that she had just talked to Deb and that would work. (Another smiley face) She did not remember that I was in the room while she was talking to Debbie.

I better call Anna and tell her too. When our daughter Anna answered I said over Cheryl, “Just go with it.” Anna did.

It was a busy hour and a half with phone calls and plant watering but all was well an hour or so later when we went to bed. She got up once to visit the bathroom and eventually got up for blueberry pan cakes and orange juice at about 9 AM.

NOVA was a repeat anyway.

Carpe sundowner Diem.

A great sunset picture from the LA Times.

Women’s Restrooms

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Women’s restrooms are never handicapped accessible even when you think they are and the provider thinks they are.

The Ladies room at Through the Garden restaurant (which we go to often) is a pretty good one. Cheryl did not get trapped with her walker last night. The door hinges into the restroom and it is nice and wide.

The Silverton Cafe which is a wonderful old pub that we have gone to for decades has a sucky-wucky ladies room. Cheryl got trapped in the stall. A coat-hanger would have been good.

The public restroom on the first floor lobby area south in St. Elizabeth Ft. Thomas has a really swell feature. I has a handicap wave pad that opens the door mechanically when you wave your hand at it. It also has motion sensitive lights which turn on when you shove your walker in but waits a few minutes and turns them off leaving you sitting in an inside room without windows or any other lighting which makes it blacker than the inside of a cow which is also not not nice. Almost a great idea though. Needs a little tweaking.

As we travel the road of parkie dilemmas I have visited a lot of women’s restrooms lately. I am not shy about shouting “doing okay?” through the door and opening the door which usually interferes with the walker coming out. Often you will see me hovering near the ladies room door when we leave the restaurant or pub for the evening. I try to not look creepy.

Most seem to hinge inward but the door is conveniently (for the builder) located in a corner so that you cannot be off to the side with the walker to open the door.

A few designers are thinking here and there. It is sporatic though. Old buildings are the worst. Restrooms do not make any money for pubs. All guys need is a bush.

Carpe the restroom Diem.

Physical and Mental

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These two aspects of the Parkinson Dilemma are frustrating from a care partner viewpoint. They are the source of laments and weariness. The grind can be debilitating in many subtle and unsubtle ways.

Physical disability is only recognized by Cheryl when she is so physically tired that she cannot stand up. And even then she fights the thought that she physically cannot do something. That something might be as little as getting up out of the chair that I put her in because I was worried about her falling. There must be a balance somewhere. So I help anyway without trying to be a helicopter helper and hovering about her space.

Her mental ignorance of her ability to do something – rare is the occasion that she will ask for help – is simultaneously frustrating and heartwarming. She wants to do it. If she starts it and I complete it she feels like she did it. (Ugh!) Her memory does not allow her to remember that I completed whatever it was. So I help anyway without trying to be a helicopter helper and hovering about her space secure in the fact that she will not remember and assured that it is unimportant for me to correct her when she tells someone – see what I did. (except when she tells the doctor.) Tee Hee!

Seize the day and make something new if things are not going your way. Parkinson is a progressive dilemma and in Cheryl’s case there is an element of creeping apathy. The meah factor appears as she loses interest in doing things – exercise, writing birthday cards, visits with friends, laundry, making cookies, taking down the Christmas tree and decorations and other things. A little push every now and then never hurts. She will not remember that it was not her idea if you are subtle with your pushes.

Today we will visit a cousin of hers who is in the hospital. She is uninterested in exercise class. The hospital will be a long walk so we will switch activities today. And then as we left the little lunch place and headed toward the hospital my son called with a request to pick up our grandson after school. More driving but out in the world today. We will go to the hospital tomorrow.

This is an old picture but it is how I see this woman, the love of my life, the place I am home. I see that smile less and less but sometimes early in the morning it peeks out of her face.

Carpe Diem even if you cannot.

Pizza Tuesday

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An old tradition of ours is pizza Tuesday. I know. I know it is supposed to be taco Tuesday but neither of us are super huge fans of tacos. Although if we wind up at a Mexican restaurant and there are some very good ones in the Cincinnati area, Cheryl will order tacos. Some of the Hello Fresh meals are Latin American in flavors. Neither of us grew up with that but the La Rosa family has been in business for sometime and some scenes from the Rain Man use Pompellio’s as back drop. Sorry I have digressed again.

We used to frequent a small pizza joint nearby (run by a family of German dissent or Latvian if the spelling is different) that we liked. We tried several nights during the week and ultimately landed on Tuesday as the least crowded. It stuck. Over time it became “Anything Goes Pizza Tuesday” because sometimes one would rather have a hoagie or a hero sandwich or a calzone or maybe just a salad. Cheryl did not care as long as there was pepperoni somewhere. The only exception being a steak hoagie sandwich reminiscent of Pasquale’s. Sadly, the Pasquale’s of our childhood is no longer.

Lately we have moved Anything-Goes-Pizza-Tuesday to a newer use of an old italian restaurant near where we live. They opened just before the pandemonium and we supported them with carry out orders during the shutdown.

Pizza Tuesday has developed into a social affair with friends and neighbors. Sometimes Cheryl’s family shows up. Sometimes anything goes.

On this particular night Cheryl’s cousin Donna showed up. We had been trying to get together and on a whim I called her and invited her to Strong’s Brick Oven Pizzeria. She came. My cousin’s widow, Linda showed up. We had a great conversation. We got home later than we usually did. Sadly, we had no leftovers and that is too bad.

It was a time to connect and make new connections. The pizza Tuesday reminder list is getting longer. Cheryl had a good time and told stories.

Carpe pizza Tuesday Diem.

Longing for a Different Life

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There are days when I long for a different life. This is one of them.

She did not sleep well last night.

She was more incontinent than ever before.

The shear repetition of care partner activities tends to grind.

Dementia can be debilitating. Those struggling with dementia do not know it.

Memory loss too. She becomes more frustrated as the evening wears on.

Conversation is tough. There are bright spots as stories are made up on the fly.

Delusional behavior is stressful for the deluded and the helper. Deluded minds have a different reality.

I suppose yesterday I was very tired. When she does not sleep, nor do I.

There was extra laundry in the morning and sometimes one needs to goof off.

There were extra things to do that day. I do not always feel like doing extra but it is still there to do.

It is relentless and constant. Relentless and constant.

So yesterday I longed for a different life and I do so every few days but yesterday it seemed worse somehow.

?

Carpe lament diem.

Ago

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When we were young Cheryl was a very good seamstress. She impressed me by making me and the boys a couple of shirts. I have no idea of the amount of work, effort and skill it takes to make other items of clothing but the year she made us custom fitting flannel shirts for Christmas I was super impressed. I still have a couple. The rest overtime I managed to wear out and fray most of them beyond repair. I can tell you that there is nothing, nothing better than a well tailored shirt. If you have ever had a shirt made for you, shirts off a rack are never the same again. Although I never owned one I can understand why men could spend thousands of dollars on a hand made suit. No wedgies in your armpits or elsewhere.

Today for whatever reason she has decided the pillows need to be trimmed differently.  Here we are in Joann Fabrics. It is hard for me to understand what she is thinking. She has a hard time expressing her thoughts. It is overwhelming like a lot things these days. I really do not know how to help her.

The plan that I conjured was to get outside before the inclement weather turned up. Maybe a walk even though it is cold the wind is still. And afterwards we can have some lunch somewhere. It is Sunday and we have no plans.

But she found her stash of earrings when she was putting her clothes on. I was in full on waiting mode in my little office hide away hoping to not get frustrated and jump in to speed her up. This is January in Ohio and it has been weirdly warm for a couple weeks and that usually means the crap is coming. I became anxious and went back to check. She was messing around with her earring stash. I reminded her we were going to take a walk and have a little lunch somewhere. Oh yeah, that’s right said she. She came out of the bedroom with a bunch of her earrings in a box to take to the jeweler for repair that they did not need. I pointed out that it was Sunday and her favorite jeweler is closed today. She said maybe we could go sometime this week and I readily agreed.

Let’s go take a walk and get lunch. Okay she said.

That all went out the window as we got into the car and she told me about Joann Fabrics and pillows and fringe and trim and once seam binding. Happily I knew what all of those were but had no idea why she was telling me or what she had in mind. I had a lot of questions. I reluctantly drove toward Joann Fabrics instead of our favorite park to walk in. Switching from earrings to pillows left me dumfungled.

I drove to Joann Fabrics and later after we had absorbed enough of the ambiance, we went to a close by Cracker Barrel for salads and pillow talk. This was a soft talking day and Cracker Barrel was a bad pick for quiet conversation but they did have a nice wood fire going near where we were seated.

Later when we got home she showed me the green pillow that she had been talking about. I think she made this waiting for one of our kids to get big enough to be born. I do not remember which one but this pillow has been in our household for several decades.

Carpe the sewing project Diem.

Inspiration in Song and Poetry

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I often find hope and inspiration in song and poetry. Today while reading blogs of others I tripped over this from Filosofa’s Word. Kermit and his rainbow song.

To me and I suppose many, poetry and song are the same thing. A song with a melody that is catchy enables a poor poem to live. A sweet expressive poem often needs no accompaniment. Sometimes the music is first and inspires the poem. Sometimes the poem is first and inspires the melody.

A favorite poem Desiderata sort of sums up life. It has no metre. It follows a prose format. I find it to be calming to my heart. I have not read it for a while but reading Jill’s blog page about caused me to do that today.

Carpe Diem and keep connected to everyone around you.