extra care

Miraculous

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Miraculous Pain in the Ass (a Diary)

Debbie made this comment the other day about my recent myocardial infarction/ angioplasty/ cardio arterial bypass graft activity. I have to agree. I have complained to the medical folks steering my care that I am personally amazed that I do not feel worse than I do. The whole process has been a miraculous pain in the ass (or chest – but I felt little pain in my chest after all the chest tubes came out.)

  • March 19, 2026 – Sun shining, high of 70 or so. A good day to ride the bike and get used to the trail again. Pain in my chest and left arm that I wrote off as winter stiffness and out-of-shapeness, was not to be ignored. I did ignore it for a bit. I stopped at my “turn around” point and sat on a bench along side of the trail.
  • March 20, 2026 – a little pain here and there but nothing of note but distracting enough that I could not ignore. Debbie insisted I make a doctor appointment. I did.
  • March 21, 2026 – Pain in my chest and left arm with a vengeance while I was beginning to assemble a porch glider that was purchased online a few days before. I sat down. Debbie looked at me while I insisted that I did not need anything other than to sit for a bit. The look on her face told me that I should be taking this more seriously.
  • March 21, 2026 – I drove myself and Debbie to the hospital and walked into the ER at Jewish Hospital part of the Mercy Health system in Cincinnati. I announced that I think I am having a heart attack. They brought me a wheelchair and things happened quickly.
  • People work in the hospital on the weekends. This destroyed my theory that nothing would happen before Monday. Nevertheless a cardiologist ordered several diagnostic tests all aimed at discovering why I was feeling what I was feeling. I was put on a hepron drip and aspirin to keep me from plugging up before the eventual solution could be executed.
  • March 22, 2026 – About 5:15 in the afternoon I sent this email message to the stock club membership. — Hey guys; It is unlikely that I will be at the meeting tomorrow. Sorry about the last minute notice but I’m in the hospital. Denny has my proxy. Paul
  • March 23, 2026 – Monday. Early in the morning I had an angioplasty diagnostic test to determine what was wrong. A stint or two was not going to fix me. As previously reported one artery was 99% blocked and another was 95% blocked.
  • March 23, 2026 I was trucked (literally) over to Mercy Anderson where they specialize in cardiac arterial bypass graft surgery (CABG). I took my hepron drip with me.
  • March 23, 2026 – This was the week for CABG surgery. I had to wait for my turn which was scheduled for Friday. I needed it but I was in too good of shape to go first. No one ever said this out loud but the thought was there. I settled into the cardiac care ICU room C221. Debbie stayed with me overnight the night before the surgery.
  • March 27, 2026 – Three days of the cardiac diet in the hospital got me here. The food is not bad it is just boring. Days go slow in the hospital. A cardiac burger has little maybe no salt involved in its cooking. Otherwise it is perfectly edible. “Worth his salt” is a comment from Roman times. Nothing to eat past midnight. I did not miss it.
  • March 27, 2026 – In the late morning Becky a nurse practitioner with big hands joined us in C221 to chat about what was coming soon. The first surgery of the day was going quicker than expected. They would come get me soon. Debbie and I waited. David showed up to wait with me. Sarah showed up to wait with me. They did not come to get me soon. It was more like two hours later.
  • March 27, 2026 – Early afternoon Becky reappeared with another nurse to push me to the operating theater. I scooted onto the operating table. The anesthetist remarked to Becky that I was too high up the table. She grabbed my feet and said she was going to move me down. She did. Big hands. Moments later it was lights out.
  • March 27, 2026 – about 9PM – Wendy from the breathing department said to me, I’m going to do a little suction and then pull the breathing tube out. I was still a little groggy but she did what she said. I was breathing again on my own. Debbie had left my phone and my glasses with the night nurse after peeking through the C221 glass door. I could talk which surprised me a bit. At 9:30PM I called Debbie to report that I was still alive and kicking. I called her first because I knew she would be worried overnight otherwise. We always – since we met – call each other at night to say good night. I actually slept that first night.
  • March 28, 2026 – about 3:30AM – a lab technician showed up to draw blood and make sure that I was awake.
  • March 28, 2026 – About 5AM – two NPs showed up with their very own portable bedside x-ray machine. They sat me up to take a chest picture to be sure I was still screwed together. The My Chart report says yep, all good. They left to go wake up the next patient. The night nurse helped me to sit up in my chair about 6AM. This became my morning routine for the next four days or so.
  • March 28, 2026 – a little after 7AM – rounds. Several bright cheery young women appeared to take over the day shift and find out from the night shift any important stuff about the patient – me. Another morning routine began.
  • March 29, 2026 – 3, 5 & 7AM – pretty much the same as March 28th. The times may be off slightly but the 3:30AM blood draw was very consistent as was the morning x-ray. On this day I think I got a shower in the morning by Austin, Austin is an incredibly gentle nurse on the night shift. Austin stayed in my room overnight March 27-28 after my surgery. He monitored my numbers and laughed when I told Debbie after I woke up, “I’m still alive, baby!”
  • March 29, 2026 – physical therapy folks appeared to get me going and walking a little bit in the room. Occupational therapy showed up to ask a lot of questions about my home and to offer suggestions about staying in the tube.– which is their way for saying do not use your arms for anything like pushing up out of a chair.
  • March 30, 2026 – 3, 5 & 7AM – pretty much the same as March 28 & 29. Either a nurse or a PT person showed up every couple hours to walk me around the hallway. There are practice steps overlooking the hospital lobby. The more I walked, the closer I came to going home. I was feeling better. I found some underwear to put on in my backpack that David had brought. No longer was my butt hanging out for all to see when I walked around.
  • March 31, 2026 – discharge day. Taylor, the day nurse, came in with her trainee, Emily, to go through this book I have been filling in for several days now at home. Scott and David and Zachary came to give me a ride home. Emily went to find a wheel chair to give me a ride to the front so that I could get into my car. Scott had left his car at my house and drove my car to the hospital. I rode home in the back of the car. The medical folks were concerned about the airbags. Zachary went home with Uncle David.
  • April 1, 2026 – April Fools Day – I am home. I do not feel too much from the surgery. A little sore here and there. Debbie came over to stay with me for the next several days. David also stayed with me for a week. Sarah came and made soup. It was heavenly.
  • April 2, 2026 – People came to feed us. Debbie cooked her award winning and legendary meat loaf. Denise, Debbie’s sister, made her special scalloped cheesy potatoes and ham. It was much better than green eggs and ham (Sam I am.) There was a lot of it so Debbie and I ate it for lunch and dinner for a couple days. I think I ate the last of it a week or so later.
  • April 3, 2026 – Kristin, a work friend of Debbie’s, brought her special soup also called Paula Dean’s chicken noodle soup. It was excellent even though Kristin made it without the alcoholic beverage in it. In case you were wondering – see below
    • For the Stock;
      • 2 1⁄2 to 3 pounds broiler-fryer chicken, cut up
      • 3 1⁄2 quarts water
      • 1 onion, peeled and diced
      • 2 teaspoons Italian seasoning
      • 1 teaspoon lemon-pepper seasoning
      • 3 garlic cloves, minced
      • 4 bay leaves
      • 3 chicken bouillon cubes
      • Kosher salt, to taste
      • Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
    • For the Soup
      • 7 cups sliced carrots
      • 2 cups sliced celery, leaves included
      • 2 1⁄2 cups uncooked egg noodles
      • 1 cup sliced mushrooms
      • 3 tablespoons parsley, chopped
      • 1⁄3 cup cooking sherry
      • 2 teaspoons fresh rosemary leaves, chopped
      • 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
      • 3⁄4 cup heavy cream, optional
      • Salt and pepper, to taste
      • Crusty French bread, for serving
  • April 4, 2026 – I found the ice cream in the freezer. This is the beginning of 4 long weeks of no driving and depending on my kids and others to drive me around. Debbie kept telling me how good I was doing. I think she meant that I was not complaining about my lot in life.
  • April 5, 2026 – Easter Sunday. I stayed home. Although I was feeling better each day, I did not feel up to church. I thanked God for Debbie and her persistence at chasing me to the hospital to be checked out.
  • April 6 – 10, 2026 – Debbie went back to work. David hung on for a couple more nights and ultimately moved home. I was on my own for a few nights.
  • April 10, 2026 – Debbie returned for the weekend and to be sure I did my exercises. Over time she has arranged her working schedule so that she has a 4 day weekend. During this time in our relationship she has cleared her grandmotherly duties to take care of me. For that I will be forever grateful. On this day we resumed our charcuterie board lunch and planning session for the rest of the weekend.
  • April 11, 2026 – It was a great day for a walk in the park so we did just that. We chilled for most of the weekend.
  • April 13, 2026 – Debbie returned to her grandmotherly duties during the day. We went to dinner in the evening.
  • April 14, 2026 – Debbie returned to work. The physical therapy sessions continued and the visiting nurse came to assess my progress. Rhonda laughed when I told her that Debbie referred to her as the exercise nazi.
  • April 14 – 17, 2026 – I continued a routine of taking care of myself. Showering everyday and gently washing my chest wound. Monitoring my blood pressure and heart rate. Getting up to walk in the parking lot. I did not do this as much as the log book wanted me to do that but it is a boring activity and occasionally I napped instead.
  • April 19, 2026 – Sunday. Debbie and I went to the Kenwood Theater to see “Hail Mary” a peculiar movie about some sort of star eating bacteria and one man’s quest to solve the problem. Entertaining but an odd story line.
  • April 22, 2026 – Wednesday – The anniversary of Cheryl’s death. Scott, Zachary and I went to visit Cheryl’s columbarium niche. Her flowers are in full bloom.

Debbie remarked that this has been a miraculous pain in the ass a couple days ago and she is right. It still feels strange to me that I am feeling so good after the surgery that was performed on me. I had two bypass grafts added to my heart plumbing by Dr. Lynn Seto who is, apparently, a skilled heart surgeon.

Dr. Seto, thank you and your team for your excellence.

Carpe Diem.

3 AM Sometimes

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Day Six and Beyond

A major surgery makes one think about things one might not think about.

I awoke from a nap this afternoon wondering what God had in mind. I imagine that we all have these thoughts occasionally. What is the big picture? Or is there a picture? I could feel the love from people near me in my life.

Love is a powerful emotion. It is freely given.

The person that I am with, Debbie, is staying with me to help me through this piece of the recovery journey. After Cheryl’s death I did not think that I would feel the same way for anyone again. Debbie makes me happy. It is that simple. Loving someone is a connection between souls. It is deeper. She is here with me through this recovery and I am more concerned for her health and well being than my own. Love is a two-way street.

Last night a spontaneous gathering arose as David, doing his master chef on the grill, invited his brother and family to join us. Love was in the air then too.

My sister and I talk every day. This is something we have not done since we were children. There are three time zones between us which adds certain amount of thought process on my eastern end when I want to initiate a communication. It seems to work out though. Love figures into the process.

It is as though the love that I radiated out during my previous life before my heart attack is returned as I need it. A simple beautiful concept, love the people around you and they will love you back.

These past few days as I recover post-surgery, I am overwhelmed by love.

I am grateful.

Carpe Diem.

When I Visit Cheryl

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When I visit Cheryl which happens everyday I notice things. Some of these are after I return home. I am not so concerned about where I put my shoes after I take them off for example. When Cheryl was here with me I was constantly concerned with trip hazards lying about in our condo. Occasionally we would argue about things like doormats and trow rugs, all of which I had removed from the condo over time as her ability to move and walk and balance became worse.

I notice how the staff interacts with the residents. They are generally kind and attentive. They are, I imagine, acutely aware of their own staffing levels.

I notice how the residents interact with the staff. Helen, another resident in the Harbor with Cheryl, is awake and alert and talkative today. Last night the Super Bowl went into overtime. It was not won until just before 11 PM, so, I imagine that several maybe most of the staff sat up and watched it until the end like I did. The difference being that I did not have to get up at 5 AM to make the 6:30 AM staff meeting. Some of the staff have that combination of Monday morning sleepy grumpy going on. I get that. I used to be a service/engineering manager. Mondays were often unnecessarily busy while we picked up all the stuff that fell on the floor over the weekend.

I notice the level of staffing. It is less so on the weekends as one might expect it to be. If there is one single area that I could suggest could be improved it would be weekend staffing. The world in general revolves around folks not working weekends without some sort of extra incentive which is often money. Rewarding altruism and empathetic caring for folks who cannot care for themselves is hard work for the administration and work life balance is strained when the work and life are similar. Conjuring useful rewards for weekend work like appealing to their sense of altruism is probably tough.

I notice the changes when the shift ends. The next group comes in. It is generally a smooth transition.

I hear the little discussions between the staff – what’s important to them.

I also find that if I am not the full time care partner I was when Cheryl was home with me I am able to have opinions about how others do the same task. I wonder about how I might do it differently. I keep those thoughts to myself. Juggling the needs of a dozen people at different stages of Alzheimer’s, Lewy body, Parkinson’s and other forms of dementia is more complicated than I had to deal with at home. My personal dilemma was remaining kind and thoughtful with lack of sleep but a lot of love. Love is sometimes hard to find if you are Mr. Lack-of-sleep-cranky-pants.

All of this wandered though my thoughts today as I visited with Cheryl and sat with her while she dozed in her chair. She was slightly awake but sitting with her eyes closed. She was uninterested in having company. I just held her hand for a bit and it seemed like she relaxed and fell into a nap. I miss her daily company.

Carpe Diem. ( Carpe Somnum when it is time.)

Dance Competition

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A small gymnasium with loud music and time to wait, the pre-dance show is boring. I am glad that I have a book. I am writing facetious nonsense.There is no pre-dance show. It is loud music, unnecessarily so, in a small gymnasium.

The girls on all the teams are enthusiastic and passionate about their routines. As a biased grandfather watching these kids perform I think my granddaughter did the best but two concepts interfere with that assessment, familial relationship and ignorance of the judgment criteria. A rubric would be helpful with the latter. There is no help for the former.

I did enjoy the afternoon with my daughter’s family. Earlier in the day Cheryl had been sleeping soundly in her recliner. I sat with her for a time. She did stir when I talked to her. She did not stir when I kissed her cheek. She did not stir when pulled the blanket from beneath her head and covered her with it. She did not stir when I kissed her good-bye and left to have some lunch before the ride to the competition.

Jazz Dance

Cheryl was safe and taken care of. I went to watch the dancers without concerns for her wellbeing. I thought about how she would have liked to have been there. I made a video to show her later.

Cheer

Carpet Diem

A New Attitude

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My brother-in-law’s wife recently had some surgery to her neck and over the past couple weeks we have exchanged text messages and visits. I ask how he is doing and how my sister-in-law is doing. Often I send him my latest picture of Cheryl at Bridgeway Pointe. Yesterday we had the following exchange.

  • Thanks for sharing. Tari still has lots of pain !!! I am tired and frustrated !!! How are You ?? — 2:36 PM
  • Not tired and frustrated. With little to do for Cheryl, I think lonely and broken hearted. Is Tari home or in rehab? How did that turn out? — 3 pm
  • Rehab did not go well. Tari is home now. Waiting to see about Home Health Care. — 4:29 pm
  • In home physical therapy sessions? — 4:30 pm
  • I guess. Not sure. –4:31 pm

I wrote lonely and brokenhearted to him. It was the first time I admitted that to anyone.

I get up in the morning and realize again that I have no particular schedule. Nothing that I have or want to accomplish this day. Three weeks ago my day was centered around Cheryl. I made very few specific plans for me that did not include her somehow. I focused on getting her going, up and out, onward and into the sunshine. In the Autumn months when it is still warm, just four weeks ago, I conjured little trips to the places where we used to walk. I did carryout from a little chicken place nearby sometimes and we had a picnic. Her in her rollie chair and me waving the bugs away. In September I had my picnic supplies in the trunk of the car so that we could do that spontaneously (Carpe Diem). My main goal for each day was simply to get her out into the sunshine somewhere.

A new attitude is my goal today and the rest of my days. I need to be less broken hearted. Lonesomeness I think I can deal with. That feeling will come and go. Cheryl is safe and well cared for at Bridgeway Pointe.

Carpe Diem. Cheryl is safe and well cared for at Bridgeway Pointe. (Repeat)

(Repeat)

It’s Near Time for Good-byes

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I started this a couple days ago while sitting in the airport and elsewhere. I mulled over many thoughts that I had about family and siblings and care giving and end of life. A great visit with my sister and only sibling alive comes to a close.

Joyce asked me if I was shifting back into caregiver mode. I am. I also think that I never left that mode or mood. I was far away but the kids were close by for Cheryl. David took it upon himself to visit his mother every day. I was able to relax a bit.

In the collection of photos below in the picture immediately above the lighthouse there is a little white speck to the left of center in an otherwise empty ocean. That is a whale spout.

When I return we ( our family) will be planning, thinking carefully about future care for Cheryl. This was a test for us all. There are lots of imponderables. What is best for Cheryl? How will we finance it? How will we respond to her needs?

Carpe Diem.

Friday – A Weird One

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It started like a normal morning I got up at 7:30 or so and left Cheryl sleeping soundly in bed. I put the last of yesterday’s coffee in a mug and told the microwave one minute. I woke up the Wordle on my tablet and went out to get the paper. Someone, perhaps our new neighbor brought them inside the front door. I picked up Jeanne’s paper and her mail. She is 98 and does not go out much or downstairs much. I carried her stuff up to the bag she hangs on her door for that purpose. I noted that she had not retrieved yesterday’s paper from her bag. (Maybe I will check on her later.)

I watched the news on hurry up speed up as I had prerecorded it when it came on at 7 AM. There is still a lot of things going on that I have no control over. But at our little group of condos, the decks are fixed, the roofs are on and the trim is newly painted. The landscape folks want me to accept the quote for scraping snow and putting out ice melter. Winter is coming.

I started thinking about Cheryl, winter, gloomy weather, sundown syndrome and care partner stuff. About 9:30 AM I went to see if she was awake and ready for breakfast.

I found her in that in between sleep and wakefulness that we all experience in the morning. Usually my right hip tells me (You are old buddy boy. Move your ass.) to get up and move around. Cheryl and I exchange small talk and teasing for a bit.

“Do you want a kiss on your ear?”, I say.

“No”, she replies.

“What about on this cheek?”

“Okay.”

“Scrambled eggs for breakfast?”

“Sure.”

“Toast with grape jelly?”

“Yes.”

“Want any bacon?”

“Not today.”

“I am going to get your rollie chair. I will be back.”

She is more comfortable these days with me scooting her out of bed and into a transfer chair. We go into the bathroom for a trip to the toilet, pills and then into the kitchen for breakfast.

On this day when I sat her on the toilet she began to shake, sweat and cry a little. “My arms really hurt.”, she said. She initially complained about the toilet seat being cold. I ignored that because she often makes that complaint. Her hands and arms were shaking violently and I held the glass and straw for her to take the meds that I placed in her mouth one by one. We have done this before but not with the shaking action.

I had been gently rubbing her left arm as I helped her take her pills and she asked me to stop. She told me her arms were hurting. I got her a nsaid pain reliever that had been prescribed by her doctor for occasional pain occurrences.

It is a little chilly in Ohio this morning and although our thermostat reads 75 F in the bathroom it seems even to me a little chilly. In the middle of moving her from the toilet to the transfer chair, I got her heavy fluffy ugly pink bathrobe on her. I combed her hair and rolled her to the kitchen.

Apple juice, scrambled eggs and jelly toast later, the shaking and sweating were gone. Her arms did not hurt anymore. She still reports a little pins and needles tingling in her hands and fingers. The meds seem to be working but this whole episode was new. It began after I had gotten her out of bed with no complaint and onto the toilet, also with no complaint.

A cold toilet seat seemed to start everything. And that is very weird. Maybe I need a couple of these snazzy covers.

Carpe Diem.

Sunflower Day!

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It is the day of the Sunflower Rev it UP for Parkinson’s Walk/Run. Cheryl and I thank all who participated, donated and simply is there for Cheryl when she needs help.

It is not too late to donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/event/2sriufpw/ — Cheryl’s team name is SMILE. Because “Mom always told us to smile.” And how can you not smile after saying whoopadidee!

This year was the first year that Cheryl and I did not get up early and head down to the riverfront. Alas as her disease progresses it is not to be on some days. This was one of those. Thanks to all who participated.

SMILE – $2483.00 for UC Health Parkinson’s Research

Carpe Diem!

I Expect Too Much

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I do.

I expect Cheryl to do things that she is incapable of and respond with anger when she cannot. My anger is better described as frustration. As I leave her thinking she is headed in the right direction, when I check on her later, I find that she has wandered off in some new direction. Instead of washing her face, she is cleaning the sink.

I expect others or hope that others will see our dilemma and voluntarily help in some way. Those people who do are very few in number. They are a joy to be around.

I do not expect anything from strangers but they open doors or hold the door or jump up to open the door. It is a small thing but useful.

Friends and family are all helpful in their own way. They all have lives. They all have other interests. It is self centered of me to expect them to think about us.

As we travel this road of Parkinson and related dementia changing expectations is necessary. If you do not make adjustments all that can be found is perpetual disappointment.

Perpetual disappointment leads to cynicism. Conversation becomes sarcastic. The sarcasm is wasted on dementia patients. They will only detect the underlying anger.

Cheryl uses her left side successfully only when she concentrates. Perhaps specific marching encouragement will help – left foot, right foot, left foot, and on.

If I change my expectation for her walking, perhaps I can help her improve.

If I change my expectations of family and friends perhaps I can find more happiness and less disappointment.

Perhaps I need to change my expectations.

Carpe Diem.

Palliative Care

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Today we saw the doctor whose clinic is concerned with palliative care. After a long discussion about drugs, symptoms and what the palliative care clinic does the conversation turned to what we hoped to achieve from it. My hope is for better existence for Cheryl. She has trouble vocalizing her hope.

From the National Institute on Aging — (NIOA) — the next couple paragraphs are useful general information. The doctor’s question hit me spiritually, what are we expecting? It is a good one — What are we expecting? A cure? Return of mental acuity? A better attitude about living with one’s plight? More mobility? A stronger core muscle strength? — A flood of thoughts entered my mind.

What is palliative care?

Palliative care is specialized medical care for people living with a serious illness, such as cancer or heart failure. Patients in palliative care may receive medical care for their symptoms, or palliative care, along with treatment intended to cure their serious illness. Palliative care is meant to enhance a person’s current care by focusing on quality of life for them and their family.

Who can benefit from palliative care?

Palliative care is a resource for anyone living with a serious illness, such as heart failure, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, cancer, dementia, Parkinson’s disease, and many others. Palliative care can be helpful at any stage of illness and is best provided soon after a person is diagnosed.

In addition to improving quality of life and helping with symptoms, palliative care can help patients understand their choices for medical treatment. The organized services available through palliative care may be helpful to any older person having a lot of general discomfort and disability very late in life.

Who makes up the palliative care team?

A palliative care team is made up of multiple different professionals that work with the patient, family, and the patient’s other doctors to provide medical, social, emotional, and practical support. The team is comprised of palliative care specialist doctors and nurses, and includes others such as social workers, nutritionists, and chaplains. A person’s team may vary based on their needs and level of care. To begin palliative care, a person’s health care provider may refer him or her to a palliative care specialist. If he or she doesn’t suggest it, the person can ask a health care provider for a referral.

Why (a conversation with myself, often) is palliative care necessary and useful? What benefit will come from this method of viewing Cheryl’s worsening Parkinson and her associated dementia issues? These are my thoughts.

Since the beginning of this road all I have wanted is for Cheryl to be safe, comfortable, mobile, and as independent as she is capable. Seven years ago, just before we purchased this condo that we live in now we lived in a neat old five bedroom, two story house with a basement. It was a hundred plus year old house with much space and character. Cheryl’s main complaint was her knees. At first I moved her office area downstairs to the front bedroom. We called it the guest bedroom and sometimes “your Mom’s bedroom.” I rearranged the use of the other extra bedrooms upstairs. I remodeled one and took over Cheryl’s old office upstairs as my own. The upstairs bathroom was accessed through the office. The home office was moved to the guest bedroom downstairs as was the rest of her equipment – sewing machine, computer things, printer, etc. but Cheryl had adopted the upstairs bathroom as her own and regardless of where she was maintaining a presence during the day she went upstairs if she required the facilities. (The hallway to our big bedroom in our condo she now refers to as upstairs or downstairs as her Parkinson and memory issues worsen.) She complained about her knees everyday until we moved to our flat single floor living arrangement.

During the seven year process of moving, adapting, adjusting I put her needs first not thinking about or recognizing what those adjustments would do to my emotional and physical health. Not once did I think about how my life would change when Cheryl gave up driving voluntarily when she could not remember where she was or where she was going. Nor did I realize that she was starting into her creeping memory issues. A couple months later when she became terribly upset and anxious one evening because she could not find $1.89 mistake in the check register that she was still computing by paper and pencil, I did not realize that she was struggling with cognitive issues in addition to memory issues. Her math and logical sequencing was gone or mostly so. She did not admit it to herself or to me and I did not recognize it. (notice – cognition in recognize) It was perhaps two years later that she was unable to follow recipe instructions or sewing pattern instructions. (I found myself reading how to reverse an item so that the seam allowance was hidden.) In retrospect she was probably terrified that she could no longer do those things. She was in fear of losing her mind and it caused anxiety.

My hope or expectation is that she will achieve some level of relief from her anxiety. My hope is that she will sleep more comfortably. My hope is that she will accept her disabilities that inhibit what she wants to do and she will ask for and accept help freely offered by her spouse (me).

My hope is that I will be more comfortable with letting her do for herself as much as she can while she can do it. Whatever it may be. My hope is that I will find the strength and the financial means to provide for her future care. My hope is that I will plan activities and be cognizant of the fact that plans will change without warning and I will not rage out loud when it does not go my way.

My hope is to be able to let go once in awhile for my own mental well being. I hope that this group of clinicians can help with living and life. But mostly I hope to get a good night’s sleep most nights.

Carpe Diem.