Kindness

How Big are You

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Author and futurist Robert Anton Wilson on the size of a person:

“You are precisely as big as what you love and precisely as small as what you allow to annoy you.”

Source: Nature’s God

— from James Clear’s email

This appeared from James Clear in his email newsletter.

It spoke to me. Deeply.

I do feel small when I allow Cheryl’s disease to become her. It boils over into anger and guilt. I forget often that she is not her disease.

She has been getting physical therapy to help her with movements like getting out of a chair. Sit to Stand is the notation on the PT’s notes. This motion is natural to non-PD people. One does not even think about the mechanics of it. Cheryl has to think and remember the sequence of moves. Depending on the time of day and how she is feeling, thinking and memory are difficult. So she simply cannot remember how to get out of a chair.

When she has fallen and when she falls it is always backwards. I encourage her to lean forward at her waist and push off the chair as the PT told her. Nose over toes is the mantra. But in view of anything, walker, table, person, nearby grab bar or whatever grip, grab and pull easily win over N-O-T. I encourage by telling her where to put her hands and how to position her body. She responds with don’t-tell-me-what-to-do anger. I respond in kind and then feel bad because I was to her unkind.

I love her dearly (big). I am annoyed with her disease (small) and I allow it to be her (smaller).

My personal reason for writing this is to hold that idea up in the light and discern how to be better next time. I am grateful for all the next times even though anger anxiety and anxiousness might creep back in. It is hard work and I am not that good at it.

Time to meditate and ponder with deep sagacity.

Carpe Diem

We had a Moment

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It was early afternoon. It was about an hour after she had taken a dose of meds. She was standing at the kitchen sink. Her dyskinesia was noticeable. Her conversation was anxious.

She was worried about what was going to happen with the occupational therapist … I think. I tried to convince her to sit and rest for a bit until we had to go there.

I went to putz in my office. Alexa was playing Rod Stewart old standards from his Great American Songbook album. Time after Time came on “… so lucky to be loving you” a waltz or foxtrot. I asked her if she wanted to dance. The song was a favorite of ours. I turned it up a bit and coaxed her into the space between the dining and living area. She put her arms up around me and I did the same. We hugged and danced in place.  She burst into tears as some Parkinson’s emotions took over.

Me too. We took a moment to feel a little sad about our current situation. We took a moment to let the emotion wash over us. At that point in time life was overwhelming. We had to let it be overwhelming in order to move forward with life some more. It is okay to lament life for a bit.

The song ended and we sat in the living room. Rod started singing, “I see fields of green, red roses too…” She watched some of the pictures go by on the Frameo that Anna gave her a couple years ago. She cried a little bit more and enjoyed the nostalgia. And then we were ready for life again.

an earlier dancing opportunity

Carpe Diem.

The Art of Marriage and Care Partnering

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An empathetic and caring atmosphere for your partner with Parkinson and dementia, like a good marriage, must be created. In the art of marriage the little things are the big things. The same is true for care partnering. Small things are meaningful to both.

It is never being too old to hold hands. Physical touch is a comfort. Holding hands and helping someone you love up a step or into the car or into a chair at the restaurant is a sign of love. Doing those things without complaint and without request is a sign of grace. Look for grace in your life.

Remembering to say, “I love you” at least once each day to a spouse who is also graced with a chronic disease is reassuring. She did not ask for this disease. Reassure her that she is not an annoyance to you by saying this often. As a care partner there will be times when you do not feel that way in that moment, breathe deep and remember how it was and use those thoughts to see her as she is now.

Never go to sleep angry. Anger is available every day. It has no place in the bedroom at night. (This may be the hardest lesson to learn.) Just remember that everything seems worse at night. Sleep later into the morning hours. There is always light after the darkness.

Discussing and having a mutual sense of values and common objectives that are important to the partner who is burdened with Parkinson is essential for helping her to manage the disease. Occasionally anxiety creeps into my thoughts and voice. When that happens I become a naggy care pusher and not a helpful encouraging care partner. If you can, resist becoming a naggy care pusher.

We are standing together facing the world. This is a joint effort. (A platitude – many hands make for light work.) Care partnering is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family. It gathers in your circle of friends. It affects the person with Parkinson directly both physically and sometimes mentally. Parkinson is a change. Parkinson is not a purgatory.

Care partnering is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways. These words are exchanged in both directions. These words are not expected. These words are freely given.

Care-giving has the capacity to forgive and forget. Give each other an atmosphere in which each can grow. Share your thoughts and ideas with each other.

Find room for the things of the spirit. And when the spirit moves, search for the good and the beautiful. Keep on the lookout for those “Aha” moments to learn from.

As it is with marriage, care-giving is not only partnering with the right helpmate. It is being the right partner. Parkinson’s sucks is the phrase Michael J. Fox uses. By helping each other PD sucks less.

Carpe Diem.

An August Evening

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Rainy days in August have produced sundowner’s confusion and dementia. On this particular day it seems a bit worse.

Cheryl has had a particularly busy week. Two physical therapy visits and an exercise class happened this week. On Monday evening our HOA board had a meeting to discuss maintenance schedules and what new projects we could take on with the money on hand. Jane came across the hall and sat with Cheryl on our back porch while I attended. (Jane is a wonderful neighbor.)

On anything goes pizza Tuesday we had dinner with our neighbor Jane as usual and in addition our new upstairs neighbor Joe joined us. Joe moved into the front condo over the garage spaces. Much of getting to know you conversation happened. Cheryl knew of a woman which she attended high school with who had the same last name. Her name was Kathy. As it turned out she was Joe’s younger sister. Jane’s husband used to play in several bands when he was still alive many years ago and Joe’s last name was familiar to her also. As the story developed it became apparent that her husband John had played in a band with Joe’s father.

It was a great getting-to-know-the-neighbor conversation. There were lots of memories for Joe and from Jane and Cheryl. When we got home Cheryl was exhausted.

Wednesday, I had arranged for my cousin-in-law, Linda, to come and take Cheryl to her physical therapy appointment. I went to visit the lab of a local community college program that I am still involved with. That facility is twenty minutes or so down the highway and I was gone for about two hours. We later met back up in a local diner for lunch.

Thursday it was my intention to attend a exercise-for-care-partners class at Parkinson Community Fitness after Cheryl’s twelve pm exercise class. I had previously arranged for my daughter to pick up her mom so that Cheryl would not have to stay. I found out my class was canceled at the last minute so when Anna showed up we all went to lunch. Our grandson Max was with his mom and he showed off his new laptop he purchased for college. He will start in a couple weeks.

I had hoped to ride my bike for a bit so Anna and Max remained with Cheryl. Alas, the weather did not cooperate. As I entered our condo Anna was helping her mom sort coins. These had been residing on the dining room table for several days but the project was several weeks old. Cheryl found them back in her office a few days ago. Cheryl told her daughter that when they were finished they would give the coins to her dad. She used to help her dad roll coins from his gas station business many years ago.

Max was frustrated with his new laptop. The camera no longer worked. What ensued afterward was a chat via the internet with some Microsoft expert and ultimately a complete reload of the operating system. That seemed extreme to me but I am an old retired electrical guy whose been fooling around with systems, software and computers for fifty years or so. We are living in a new age now. Ultimately it was discovered that Lenovo had placed a privacy slider to cover the camera on the upper edge of the case. It was a mechanical failure or an operational one depending on who is characterizing the action.

On Friday I was still hoping to ride my bike and the weather was still not cooperating. Cindy came anyway And I went to get a haircut and run a few other errands. I returned about an hour later.

This whole week was generally gray and overcast. It was not gloomy like the wintertime but gray and rainy nevertheless. It is still rainy and poopy outside as I write this.

The rest of the day was filled with visions and stories of her family. She was looking for Scott. Later in the evening she told me a story about Easter eggs, coloring them and Mavis. She eventually called our daughter-in-law Mavis to ask about what her objection was to coloring Easter eggs.

Earlier in the evening she asked, “Where is Ken?” I told her that Ken was probably home but I was not sure. She should call him and talk to him. She did not take that suggestion.

It was a frustrating afternoon and evening for me. Later I realized after she had exhausted herself with a very busy sundowner episode that for the first time this week only I was here with her and she could relax and let all that out.

As she laid in the bed she asked me to make sure the kids all got home okay. This morning she slept until 10 am.

Carpe Diem.

Donut Day

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It was going to be doughnut day and I forgot. Alas. Woe is me.

Going down this sometimes bumpy, sometimes smooth road of Parkinson, I hunt for ways to make memories. Happy memories. You have to see how Cheryl’s face lights up when there are doughnuts for breakfast. You will know then why getting up early to go find doughnuts is a special memory. Cheerios will not go nearly as far to creation of happiness.

Skeptics will report that doughnuts are not good food. Some will even report that doughnuts are bad for you. Others will discuss yogurt and oat bran and report their studied benefits to those I say malarkey, nonsense and bovine feces. Nothing, absolutely nothing compares to a lightly textured butter enhanced wheat dough gently lofted by yeast plants straining for full growth finished in deep oil at the proper temperature and upon proper cooling, coated with a just-right glaze of sugary vanilla. (I know you can taste it. That is because I am eating one while writing. Darn, sugar on the keyboard.)

I offer only condolences to those with celiac disease. Gluten free donuts are a sad replacement. I offer condolences to those who are lactose intolerant also for they are doomed to enjoy margarine and vegetable oil.

Nevertheless as we returned home from our dinner at a diner and a walk around the park last night, Cheryl expressed an interest in having doughnuts for breakfast. I agreed but at 8 PM those are hard to find and when you do there is little selection. I said I would get up early and go find some. Alas, this morning that thought had not remained with me overnight.

Cheryl got up a little after 8 with no help from me. I heard her stirring in the bathroom and went to be an annoying helicopter care partner. All was well. I asked her what she wanted for breakfast to which she replied, doughnuts! I was initially crestfallen as I had forgotten our discussion. I put on clothing and went to our local IGA to see what was still available in their Busken Bakery cabinet. Fortunately for me the selection still contained kettle danish which is a favorite of hers. I will eat any combination of sugar and wheat dough. No favorites for me, although, my grandson once brought me a maple iced long john which a strip of bacon on top. Yummy. (When you are in Chicago next time find some “fried dough” — fattening but exquisite.)

The day was saved. The crisis was averted. Dip-able things appeared next to my coffee. Perhaps I will make a new pot.

Carpe Diem.

Old Married Couple

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It occurs to me that old married couples have heard each other’s stories many times. Idle pleasantries between acquaintances and friends usually lead into a story about some past experience. It is harder to do with old married couples. They have heard the stories. Often they both participated. Aging and PD memory loss have changed our conversation about trips, children, childhood, food, children’s sports, many things.

I am a pretender often. She may forget who I am as she is talking. She may forget I was there; an hour ago, a week ago, a decade ago. I might forget I was there a decade ago. She wants to remind me of someone else from her childhood, someone I should know.

I work on my small talk with her because she will find a story from her childhood and it is calming to her to tell me the story.

As I think past all of that and how I can help and respond to Cheryl I still worry when she says to me, ” I’m ready to go home now.” She does this near bed time.

Lately she seems to merely mean that she is tired and wants to go to bed and rest.

Carpe Diem.

Nighttime Conversations

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She was still awake when I came to bed after reading for awhile. This conversation ensued.

C. – Dan is that you?

me – No it is me Paul.

C. – Oh. You’re here now?

me – Yes. Is that okay?

C. – Where are Jan and the rest of the kids?

me – Gone now I guess. They must have gone home.

C. – Okay. Are you staying here?

me. – Yes. Try to get some sleep. I’ll stay here with you.

In the morning as I got her awake. I had checked on her a few times earlier but at quarter ’til ten I gently urged her awake. She said, “There were a lot of people around here last night.” I replied, “Who did you see?” She replied, ” I didn’t see anybody but I could hear them.”

When she sees people they are very real to her. Before going to bed we had tried to play Scrabble for a bit. Scrabble was her favorite game for many years. We had not played it for about a year and a half. I thought I made a cool discovery. I tripped over a Merriam website called scrabble.merriam.com that helps to find words with certain letters at the beginning, end or containing them. I told her about it and showed her how to search on the website look up page on the laptop. It was too much for her.

She became tired and put on pajamas and got ready for bed. As i helped her take her bedtime meds, she asked me something about her sister Jan. She wanted to save some information for her about the upcoming Sunflower Rev it up for Parkinson’s fund raiser. She then asked me for Jan’s phone number.

It is hard for me to get a grip on conversations like this. I start first by asking if she knows where Jan is. Sometimes she remembers Jan is deceased. When she remembers this I tell her to merely close her eyes and talk to her. This time however she did not remember that Jan was no longer here. I reminded her that Jan was in heaven to which she replied, “Yes, she is talking to mom about it. Do you think you can find a number?” I told her I would look for it in the morning.

It is morning and she has not asked me for the telephone number yet. But there were a lot of people here last night in her head.

Carpe Diem.

She lied to the Therapist

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But did she lie on purpose or did she merely confuse real actions with thinking about them? Dementia and memory issues interfere with answering simple questions.

The physical therapist asked her about doing the same exercises at home when she was not seeing the therapist. Oh yes she replied, ” Every day.” This was probably an hour after her meds and she moves pretty well. Talking to her is much like a regular conversation. The mistruth just rolled off her tongue. In her head, she had done the exercises.

For a statement to be a lie it must have the added ingredient of intent. One must intend to mislead. Cheryl has no such intent. Her intent was to please. Eventually with my urging she will practice some of the exercises.

Switching from a siting position to a standing position is a struggle for her. At physical therapy Morgan and Stephanie practice this with her. She struggles to remember the sequence of small moves. We will keep practicing at home. I wonder if she will eventually will forget how to feed herself. I wonder if her body will no longer sense hunger.

Cheryl has lots of stories. Many of these stories are embellished memories. We all have some of these. Many of these stories are explanations of motive. Many of these stories are to please the listener. None of the stories are intentional lies.

Scooch forward in the chair, Heels behind your knees, Lean forward from your waist (nose over toes), push off the chair with your hands, straighten your legs — grab the walker on the way up. Practice.

Carpe Diem.

Apathy and Living

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Has she apathy? As we move forward it seems to me that she cares less about day to day activities. She seems to recede into her own thoughts but not as a prevailing occupation. I think of it as apathy-not-quite. When she gets in this mode it’s often temporary.  She is tired from some activity.

Specifically activities like taking a shower,  getting cleaned up,   physical therapy sessions or exercise classes are obviously tiring for a PD sufferer. Something as easy as thinking about what is next seems to tire her out also. It like a temporary apathy.  Procrastination?

It starts with, ” I don’t think I can go to… exercise class, church, physical therapy…” Admittedly it takes a lot for anyone to be motivated to exercise. It was not a big part of our lives when we were younger. Neither of us were sports buffs. My main sport riding my bike. There is a solitude to doing that which I am unwilling to give up or share. As her care partner, it is frustrating for me that she cannot observe how much she is helped by exercise and her PT sessions. She seems to not remember. It seems like she is going merely because I am taking her there.

When Cheryl gets in this mode (mood?), I turn the corner to something else. I am resistant to letting her go on and isolate herself in her little office area thinking, punding and organizing. I take her out. Anywhere works as long as it is out of our condo.

Yesterday I took her one of our local county parks that we have not visited for a long time. Afterward we went for ice cream at a nearby Dairy Queen. I had planned to make dinner at home but she suggested we find barbecue somewhere. This being an odd suggestion because it seems to upset her stomach often and she says never again later in the evening. We did not find the barbecue place to be amenable to folks with mobility issues so we landed at one of our old favorites and ordered something different than we usually get so the newness was preserved. On the way home she thanked me for taking her to Lake Erie and she told me a story about when she was very young.

In the early days of her father running his own gas station which was a life long dream of his, he rarely took any vacation time. It seems one of his friends had a vacation cabin up near Lake Erie and not far from Port Clinton. There is a park nearby called East Harbor State Park. Our walk by the shore of a much smaller lake in the park much closer than Lake Erie must have taken her mentally back to her childhood and a very fond memory. We visited the same area a few years ago and visited East Harbor. She talked at length about the trip with her mom and dad. She thanked me for getting her there and back in the same day.

I started this writing and contemplating apathy, but maybe it’s projective (mine) apathy? Or predictive apathy? Or apathy is the wrong word? (indifference? passivity?) Or is it poor sleeping patterns? This morning she got up at quarter til ten which means that she was in bed for about eleven hours. She awakened this morning from the same position she fell into when she got in bed. On the previous evening she went to bed very late after midnight and slept very little. (As a result I slept little also.)

Is apathy and memory related? I wonder about ideas like this. Perhaps she cannot remember that she seemed to enjoy herself the last time we went there? Wherever there is.

When I finally teased Cheryl awake this morning, she opened her eyes and asked, “Is Mary Pat here?” An amusing opening question about the day. I smiled and told her, ” No Mary Pat is not here. I think you were dreaming about her.” I have no idea where the Mary Pat (a childhood and current) friend thought came from but she has talked to her a couple times over the past few weeks.

I encourage her to talk to her friends when she gets excited about some memory or misconceived thought. Many of them have had strange conversations with her about things. I used to be embarrassed for her and, at first, discouraged these phone calls which she often decides to do later in the evening. But as I thought about it I decided that it was not my place to absorb or accept or become embarrassed for her. Her friends know her state of mind. They are wonderful people and she is blessed to have them as life long friends.

Focus, cognitive abilities, caring, likes and dislikes are all related to memory issues. Staying active no matter how small that activity is helps.

Carpe Diem.

The Road of Caring for Another

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A couple of months ago I seriously doubted my ability to care for Cheryl on a long term basis and looked into memory care facilities around where we live. There are a lot of them.

Now, after having clicked on the wrong thing on the internet of all knowledge, I am deluged with calls from the marketing folks of all the facilities within a twenty mile radius. The world wide social media network – Facebook (aka Meta) – sends me two types of ads on every other post on my “news feed” advertisements about Parkinson stuff and memory care places.

I suppose I should be smarter about see more when I see it dimly printed at the end of some paragraph I started reading. I suppose I should be smarter about a lot of things but sometimes you want to just see more of the text. Sometimes you merely want to have one question answered up front, “how much?” Used car guys know enough to not answer that question directly. The trick is to keep ’em on the lot and find the lowest possible number where the client says, “I can do that.” It is the whole reason for, “For 50 cents a day, you can feed this orphan in some obscure country.” – ads on television early in the morning. The Shriner’s hospital ads are especially compelling. (Oops, I have digressed.)

I fell for it and probably always will.

On the heels of making that mistake, I did sign myself up for a care giving (care partnering) class that also produced a fount of valuable information without the “scam likely” phone calls coming to my cellphone while driving somewhere.

The class itself has given me new insight into how important it is for me to seek out help from others around me, take time for myself to do the things that I enjoy doing, and to give those things and myself priority in my (and our) life. I have at the same time become aware of not dumping on friends and family to “take care of Cheryl” for me. Most of the time in the daylight Cheryl can take care of herself.

I do not have Parkinson disease but Cheryl does. In order for me to stay healthy enough to care for her, I have to stay healthy both physically and emotionally. I thought to write mentally also but emotionally covers it. I use the term anger but that to me means -frustration, disappointment, anxiety, sadness mixed with a little collegiality and a lot of empathy and love. And maybe a little grief is there too.

I have written this before I truly hate this affliction and what it has taken from her but I have to be as upbeat as I can about things. Some days that is harder than others.

Carpe Diem.