muses

7AM and a Funeral

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In an amazing amount of support for our dear friend Linda, Cheryl was able to fall asleep and stay asleep over night. She slept well and this morning she awakened to the 7AM alarm put out by the loud and annoying alarm clock. The past few weeks she has trained herself to ignore it.

Diana, Linda’s sister and very special best friend, left us last week. Visitation for friends and family happened yesterday evening in the afternoon. I thought that would be enough for Cheryl. On the way home from the funeral home we stopped for a bit to eat. Between mouthfuls of hamburger and a review of the dessert menu she told me that she wanted to go to the funeral tomorrow. I reiterated the fact that the funeral mass was across town and at 10AM meant that we would be leaving the house at 9AM. No matter she said she wanted to go.

I told Cheryl she would have to trust me that I would get her up and moving in time to make it. It is very important that you sleep well overnight, I told her. She said she would and she did.

This day is to remember Diana Sehlhorst. Diana came to our condo a couple times. Once after her husband Dan passed away Linda was having a conversation with her about moving to a smaller place. Linda did that after my cousin Frank died many years ago. Linda bought a condo as part of an old home overlooking the Ohio river. Ours is a newer building overlooking the trees in the back and a great view of the sunset across the valley from our parking lot in the front. Diana was looking at options. What she eventually selected was way different than both of those.

I wrote the event on our calendar and posted it on the morning erasable board. I got Cheryl up, helped her to toilet, found her comb and glasses. I went off to get Frosted Mini-Wheats as requested. I asked again if she wanted to go to the funeral mass. Cheryl insisted that she still wanted to go. We left in good time and Google maps guided us to the back of the church property because that was the swiftest way there (allegedly). I navigated my way around the block to the front of church.

Sitting in church waiting for the start of the ceremony I noticed that even at a sad event as a funeral some folks naturally smile. Even with despondency, tiredness and family sadness smiles appear. Little children make older folks smile. Diana had many grandchildren. Not everyone is capable of smiling at somber events. I think that I am not. Even in death there is rejoicing. The comment, “She’s in a better place.” is a tribute to death as a state to aspire to. Funerals sadden me.

We arrived in good time about twenty minutes ahead of the scheduled start. As the ceremony got started and Diana came by in the casket, Cheryl needed the restroom. As Diana came in we headed out to the restroom in back. And we forgot the purse.

At communion Cheryl told me she did not want to go up for communion. After the restroom we sat in one of the rear pews. St. Lawrence church is a long narrow building constructed in the old form of shaped like a cross. It would be a long walk. I went to communion , collected the purse on the way by our previous pew and returned with host. I broke it in two and gave her half. She said, amen.

Diana’s son at the end of mass delivered a small discussion of a lesson he learned from his mother in his impressionable early teen years; If everyone gives 100 percent it’s easier to meet in the middle. Words to live by, I think.

We came home and Cheryl had ice cream for lunch.

Carpe Diem.

In the Morning

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In the morning after she has had her meds and has had something to eat and has been up for a little bit, she seems like her old self for awhile. It’s different on different days but this day she is like her old self for an hour or two.

It is interesting and calming to me when it happens. We have little teasers in the morning. I ask her if she wants coffee. She says no. I don’t drink coffee. She used to drink tea but she has not for several months, maybe a couple years. But I always ask her still.

When we were still working for someone else it is how we started our day. She never drank coffee in any form. It was how I got through college and everyday since. I stopped using sugar in about 1974 or so as a protest against the sugar industry. I am able to remember when sugar was ten cents for a five pound bag. I have not seen five pound bags in our little IGA for some time.

Cheryl always drank tea. I have some year-old tea bags in the pantry. Occasionally I will drink tea. Iced tea in the summer is pretty good. Dad used to drink iced tea. I think that I drink iced tea in his memory.

These days Cheryl drinks orange juice with breakfast whatever breakfast may be. Nothing else is satisfactory for breakfast. No milk, no coffee, no tea only orange juice satisfies.

In the evening and on this particular evening she wants to go home. She seems to understand that she is home and somehow not home as I explain why all her pictures, papers and clothes are here. She will say, yes but I want to go home. My heart sinks when she says this. It used to make me panicky. There is no answer. I explain that we are home already and we will sleep here. If she wants we can go home tomorrow. That is okay with her but sometimes we have to call her sister to tell her where we are overnight.

In the morning she had been so much like her old self. In the evening she is different, unsure of where we are, uncertain of who I am, and wants to go home. The ups and downs and general upheaval in the same twelve hours or so of wakefulness is remarkable. Parkinson is scary stuff. (Some would say “shit” but I will not.)

…And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

– Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

I am not convinced, Max.

Carpe Diem.

Too Little Too Late

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Sad words of defeat and disappointment

Disgusting words of skeptical cynicism

Throwing in the towel in defeatist mysticism

Certain that you are beaten

But wait something did change

A small difference, a tiny deflection, a glimmer of light

A sliver of hope, a glimpse of a dawning

A view of the next phase is within range

It may have been too little too late

To do nothing is neither a little or late

Doing nothing is an abatement, acceptance of defeat

Sad words indeed

Too little too late

These thoughts jumped into my head the other day when I was reading a comment from Cheryl’s cousin. It is often used as an epithet. The follow up question of “what would you do?” often merely raises tension instead of being treated as a valid entreaty for knowledge.

Life is complicated and rarely in sharp contrast.

Carpe Diem.

Parkinson Hacks

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When did the term hack get substituted for coping strategy? This is an unimportant question that jumped into my head watching the morning newsy show. The gentleman was talking about traveling and airfare and airline scheduling nuances to guarantee getting there on time and not have any trouble. He shared his ideas for traveling early on Thanksgiving day and traveling home Friday. Getting back in time to watch football for the rest of the weekend. He could have FaceTimed his family that he did not want to visit for long. It could have saved a lot of time and money. (That is a hack.)

Wouldn’t it be great to make a list of hacks for Parkinson and his damned disease? He found it. Why did he not write a manual? Even written in the flowery English of the 1800’s it may be of use today. Nevertheless if he published other than his observances to the medical community (The Shaking Palsy – An Essay), I missed it. Parkinson describes a shaking motion. Today his name is associated with a wide range of symptoms, behaviors both movement and cognitive.

In our support group meeting on of the topics posed was “Share one piece of information, a coping strategy (hack), a motivational thought you wish someone had shared with you when Parkinson disease first made an appearance.” I have several and it has taken me a long time to learn them.

Cognitive

Often but not always a person dealing with Parkinson will have cognitive issues in addition to movement issues. These can come in many forms; hallucinations, sensing others, detecting others presence, odd beliefs with little knowledge, delusions, lack of time sense, lack of calendar sense (day), short term memory loss, aphasia, to describe a few. When you detect this happening in the person whom you are helping – Don’t argue. It is very easy to fall into the trap of trying to correct things. Remember with memory loss everyday is a new day.

For me this is an ongoing learning experience. I do use argument (not quite the right term – dissension? – justification?) as a method of attaining her focus because when she is mad at me she is completely focused on what I am saying to her. Often that is when I am attempting to prevent a fall or a near fall. She wants to continue doing something that is to my mind unsatisfactory, bordering on dangerous with her worsening movement control.

I do not do this often because the side effect of having her angry with me can last until bedtime. Sleep I have found is refreshing to her in a way unlike nothing else.

Meds

As a care partner it is extremely important to control meds, medication timing and to observe any issues or effects of the meds. Is this new behavior due to her worsening Parkinson or due to the new med or aging in the old med? It involves lots of reading and observation.

Whenever a change is ordered or a new med is added, the care partner must become observer and research assistant.

Checking activities

Check, check, check on things. A task that might take ten minutes for a non-Parkinson could easily take three times as long. Allow for that when planning activities no matter how small or how large. Parkinson time is different that regular clock time. Many diversions can creep in. In fact scope creep has to be tamped down continuously. (A trip to the toilet can easily morph into putting on a whole new outfit.)

Providing Help

Interfere and help. She may not want your help. Help anyway. Apologize later for helping. Do not help before it becomes apparent that she is truly and hopelessly stuck. Mentally she might think that there is hope yet and she does not need your help. It is also possible that she will not remember you helped. Just help.

Social

Generate social activities for yourself and your partner. Go out to lunch. Go out to dinner. Visit friends and family. Take walks in the park. As much as your are able look for or create on your own opportunities to be outside and exercise. Seek out exercise venues that cater to people with movement issues. (Physical therapy is one to one. There is very little social interaction.) Specialized exercise classes are far more social.

Socializing in general stretches the brain and often requires dual activity such as eating and talking. Walking and talking in a park is an excellent form of this socialization and has a third benefit of giving the body a chance to make vitamin D. Multitasking is hard for the Parkinson brain.

Caring

You have to create a network of care. You may think you can do it alone. You cannot.

Attitude

Don’t give up. Choose to be happy. And seize the moment.

Don’t be shy – lower your expectations of people

Ask for direct help. Rarely do people when asked for help say no. Usually they say that they cannot right now. Follow up and ask when they can. This can be difficult.

Carpe Diem.

Poetry and Other Prayer

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i carry your heart with me

By E. E. Cummings Copied from the Poetry Foundation

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

A couple people help me occasionally with Cheryl when I need to do other things. Today I had planned to go visit our lab area at a nearby community college but that changed early this morning. I sent a text to Linda and told that the situation changed but she was still welcome to come visit for a bit. She came and we talked about her sister who is struggling with cancer and other things going on in her life.

In a different discussion Linda revealed that Frank (My cousin, her husband who passed out of this world a decade and a half or so ago.) kept a book by E. E. Cummings on his desk in addition to books by Robert Fulghum (It was on fire when I laid down on it, and others.). I vaguely recalled that Cummings was a poet but I was not sure so I looked him up on the world wide wait. I was proven correct and I went to a poetry website that I occasionally visit. Searching for some of his work this was the first poem displayed. (I think Frank was talking to me.)

Thanks Linda and Frank. I have found another poet who speaks to me. And thank you Poetry Foundation for being there when I need words to guide my heart.

Carpe Diem.

We Got There!

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When she is running on parkie time and I manage to get her to her exercise class on time without arguments, mostly none, I get a feeling of pride of accomplishment. Seek accomplishment in the small things of life and bigger things will follow. Or I think that they will.

There are lots of life plans and platitudes similar in sentiment. Keep track of the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves- is one from the business world. Manage the little things and big things will come your way. Yadda Yadda Yadda.

She seems to be enjoying class. It consists of a group of boxing like motions while seated. A similar class uses dancing moves. The constant motions raises the heart rate.

Friday is always a bit tricky since the class that she likes is at 11 am. All other classes are at 12 pm and later. Generally her best time of day is 10 am until about 7 pm.

Carpe Diem

Parkie Time

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… is different than any other time.

I think that when I want to do something with Cheryl, parkie time shows up to slow things down. It is inevitable. She will say- let’s go or are you ready to go- or words that convey the sentiment that she is ready. Nope. That is a incorrect interpretation of the language.

If I stop to consider parkie time though it makes sense. I thought we were headed to the car. Actually we were headed to check on several stacks of paper in her office before we go. The thing about parkie time is that it has little to do with clock time.

There’s a period of hesitation while one remembers what is happening next and what is required for that activity. If I realize what is happening I can help but sometimes the help is unappreciated. It is a delicate balance of gentle help and unintentional stress. Memory loss mingles with confusion to create stress.

The important thing is to not respond to the smart-Alec comment or to make one. Running down the road jabbing at each other with pointed sticks does not accomplish much but admittedly can be momentarily satisfying to both. Resist doing that. The road is smoother. There is less apologizing later. Certainly there is less guilt at having trod all over someone’s emotions.

The disease is not them. It is hard to remember that in the rush for the door to leave and go somewhere.

Carpe Diem.

Where have Handwritten Notes Gone?

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I have saved a lot of old crap. Like most people I suppose have saved from the earlier part of their lives. Always with the intent of “doing something” with that letter, that picture, that article, that thing.

A few months ago I found a bag of that kind of stuff in my armoire crammed in the back of a bunch of other memorabilia. My diplomas and certificates and other ATTAboys are stuffed into the same place near socks and pajamas. My sister refers to these as little treasures.

In this particular bag left over from Waldenbooks (remember them?) I found a collection of old letters written by Cheryl to me in high school. These are not love letters. She is merely writing to tell me about her day. In the example I show here she has continued her letter on the next day, so, it is two letters.

Six pages of handwritten conversation as though I was there or at least on the telephone with her show several concepts of interest. The first thing to note is that her cursive when she was seventeen is written as though it is on lined paper even though there are no guidelines on the stationary. The second thing I noticed as I re-read her note was how she must have taken to heart practicing her craft in grade school and high school. The letter is dated and located and each page is numbered so the reader is not confused.

Not as much emphasis is placed on American standard cursive as it once was when we were children. Many of the MEME-ers on Meta believe this is appalling. I think it merely shows progress in education.

These days Parkinson has stolen her cursive from her as well as other things. Her ability to think in a straight line is gone. Cursive writing is just another item greatly diminished in our new life. And handwritten notes seem to be a thing of the past as we leap into the SMS message days. I have been chided by others for not responding to text messages rapidly. I notice that my smartphone service does not always provide a little chirp when a message appears and I am okay with that.

That last thought sent off to contemplate the idea that voice phone calls except from Mumbai are mostly none existent.

Carpe Diem.