Random Thoughts

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.

Grace

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Recently a classmate and friend of Cheryl passed away. Sister Mary Claire Hausfeld was not in Cheryl’s ICA class. Cheryl went to grade school with her and Mary Claire went to OLA high school. She found her vocation after high school. But that is not what I want to tell you about.

In a wonderful and well written obituary about Mary Claire and her life of service S. Delouise Menges writes about grace in Mary Claire’s life and how to recognize grace in our lives.

This poem by Marilyn Chandler McEntyre that Mary Claire used in prayer is a beautiful and touching meditation.

How to recognize grace

It takes you by surprise

It comes in odd packages

It sometimes looks like loss

Or mistakes

It acts like rain

Or like a seed

It’s both reliable and unpredictable

It’s not what you were aiming at

Or what you thought you deserved

It supplies what you need

Not necessarily what you want

It reminds you, you’re not in control

And that not being in control is a form of freedom

I have read this over several times and the line that strikes me most is “And that not being in control is a form of freedom”.

This life of Parkinson gives that statement new perspective. Little of our life is able to be controlled and I for one would like life to at least be predictable. It is not predictable either and that can be a form of freedom if you let it.

Carpe Diem.

October 2, 2022

More Things that I Have Learned

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  • If you are going to try to get your PwP to speed up to go somewhere make sure you have your act together first.
  • What ever schedule that you have in mind is busted, so, move on.
  • Some people sleep in occasionally. It is not apathy, just the ordinary need for luxurious life.
  • “Church” is merely another name for going somewhere. Just repeat the answer to: Where?
  • Do not panic when she asks where we are sleeping or asks if we are going home tomorrow. Tomorrow she will not remember.
  • Read her email once a day.
  • Casually look in her disorganized office once in awhile to get a feel for where things could be when “I can’t find my…” comes up.

This is a continuing list and when I stop to think about it and all the things I have had to learn and do it makes me smile. Frustration creeps in sometimes but I think that most of the time I can push it away. The times that I cannot are about what this disease has taken from her.

Carpe Diem.

To My Cousin Frank (aka Butch)

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Frank, I know you are not with us any more and have not been for awhile but I suspect that like Google and Facebook you can watch us, so here is what I want to say to you.

Thank you ever so much for marrying Linda all those years ago when we were young. These days she is an immense help to me and a good friend. As you are aware, her simple act of kindness to Cheryl and me comes in the form of being with Cheryl while I go do something else. Lately that has been riding my bike around Lunken Airport.

When she first started doing this for us I had signed myself up for a care giving class which put great emphasis on making sure that you take care of yourself as a care partner. I asked if Linda could be with Cheryl during those class times and she agreed. I took the “take care of yourself” message to heart and make an extra effort to find help so that I can be on my own for a couple hours.

Since I am seeing Linda more these days, prior to this as you know we met for pizza Tuesday maybe four or five times a year, I think often about our conversations and ponderings in Aunt Dorothy’s kitchen. Do you remember some the questions we posed? How does one determine if sour cream is bad?, for example. I had not thought about it at the time but it was the same sort of thing that would puzzle my dad and I am guessing his brother, your dad. Sometimes small people would run through and we would wonder who they belonged to. Those are good memories. That entire older generation of our family is gone now. Aunt Bert passed away last year. But you know that. Have you talked to her yet? Does dementia go away when you get to heaven?

So, here is a couple questions for you. How are you doing in heaven these days? Is heaven a no smoking area? Is there a smoking section? Or did you give that up?

Did you know grapes are better when they are frozen? I learned that from Sarah’s Luke.

Ray and Shirley passed through town a few days ago. We gathered at Sarah’s house with as many folks as we could conjure up. Not all of your kids were there but some were. Betty and Herb came from Brooksville. Andy was not there but Kyle and Julie were. It was a great time. Ray took a picture:

the gathering

Good talking to you.

Carpe Diem.

Distracted Morning

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Sometimes when I am distracted in the morning and helping Cheryl along to her next task I poke around on the the internet of all knowledge and little information (aka world wide wait, world wide waste, wordle word wrestle, etc.). Google is helpful with amusing little short articles to pique your interest and use up a few minutes of your day. I tripped over this:

The Simple Trick For Removing Stuck Labels From Glassware – BY AUTUMN SWIERS/AUG. 18, 2022 2:22 PM EDT

Maybe you’ve heard recent rumors that Mason jars are the new, unofficial beverage holders of hipsters. Even CBS News says, ‘to be truly hipster, one must drink from a used Mason jar. It doesn’t count if you bought one in a store. It had to be used for another purpose, like for blueberry jam, pickles, or canned peaches. (CBS made the statement when a Chicago 7-Eleven began selling slurpees out of Mason jars, calling the move a “Hipster Apocalypse.” HuffPost expressed a similar sentiment.) A recent survey by the International Food Information Council, via Food Insight, found that younger generations care more about sustainability — and a hipster is “usually [a] young person’ It’s fitting, then, that recycling your used Mason jars, and other glassware, is an easy way to make an environmental difference. You can reuse that old jam jar to sip cold brew out of, to keep food fresh, to plant flowers in, or for storing buttons. But, maybe you simply don’t want the glass jar you’re using to hold those cute cozy overnight oats to have a big “Pepperoncini” label across the front.

Luckily, there’s a simple trick for removing stuck labels from glassware. Whip out the baking soda

To remove a stuck label from your glassware, craft supplies purveyor Avery suggests scrubbing the label off with acetone nail polish remover, rubbing alcohol, lighter fluid, or cheap vodka. Let the label soak face-down in the solution of your choice for 15 minutes, then scrub away with a sponge. Frugal Minimalist Kitchen recommends employing the help of a scraper. But, if chemicals and tools aren’t really your thing, there’s another method.

Simply submerge the glassware in a pot of warm water, add a little dish soap or baking soda, and let it soak, says The Kitchen. You can heat the pot directly on the stove. The labels, it says, should come off on their own, but spot-scrubbing with baking soda will take care of any stubborn residue. To safely remove the hot glassware from the pot, use tongs and transfer them to a dish towel to cool. (If you’re all out of baking soda, Aim Plastic Free says white vinegar works, too.)

Sustainably Kind recommends a similar technique, but with a slight variation. If you’d rather bypass the hassle of putting a pot on the stove, it says, you can simply fill those jars or other glassware with boiling water from a tea kettle. Let the water heat the jar for 3-5 minutes; This will soften the adhesive that holds the label on, and you should be able to easily remove it while the hot water is still in the jar.

Next up — HERE’S THE TRICK TO COOKING THE TASTIEST BACON ON THE PLANET — could it be fry it in a skillet?

I had to laugh at myself for spending a couple minutes reading all these words that can be summed up as wash it. I am not a hipster. Maybe hipsters do not understand washing, after all, they have apparently only recently discovered glass. (Who was Mason, anyway?) I am glad, however, that the kids have rediscovered glass. We used to drink beer from glass jars when I was in college… in 1970-ish.

Cheryl has had breakfast. Shortly we will go to her last physical therapy appointment and decide what happens next. She slept a little later this morning but she seems rested and relaxed.

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.

MMXXII and Enjoy the Moment

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Tim Scott has a new book. It has just been published so he is making the rounds promoting his new effort. Perhaps merely because he is intelligent and half of the Senate representation from South Carolina but probably also because he is black and Republican, the CBS Morning newsies cannot resist asking questions that have little to do with his book.

To a question about whether he was considering a run for the Presidency of the U. S. he responded, “… You shouldn’t worry what’s next if you haven’t finished what’s now.” He gets my new life philosophy.

Carpe Diem. Latin for seize the day. I use it to end my little posts about various issues Cheryl is dealing with but it is also a reminder to me to stay in the present. Do not linger in lamentation over perceived losses. Stay focused on the now. But do not get so narrow minded that everything has to be “just so.” It can be good enough. (An engineer would add – for who it’s for.)

Do not become anxious about the future unless you are making a list of stuff to take care of before leaving on an extended trip. Worrying about what is to come is of no useful purpose. Plan and if God laughs at you, laugh with Him.

Carpe Diem to me also means stay in the moment. Enjoy this moment. Take a selfie if you want to have a remembrance in some future time. I personally do not understand the selfie thing. Most of the selfies I see on Facebook do not give one a sense of where one is. Occasionally there is a glimpse of beach or Mickey Mouse ears but often the background is some drinking establishment which could be anywhere in the world. I have also noticed that the camera aficionados in my family point the camera away from themselves. Me included.

Cheryl found this image of my youngest sister, Laura and her husband Jeff. They look very happy. Laura looks radiant. They are enjoying the moment. I maintain it is impossible to look this happy and not be happy in your soul.

This picture was made pre-smart phone. It is therefore not a selfie. Many years ago I visited with my west coast sister in Seattle. I was working on a job farther north in Vancouver BC. Walking down Market St. I was nearly clothes-lined by some woman with her selfie stick. It was the first time I had seen a selfie stick. (Oh, I have wandered off into the weeds.)

Carpe Diem.

EEEEke, Get Outta Here!

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House centipedes occasionally wander into the house. This morning one went to its demise after scouting for prey in our kitchen. If you read the link to family handyman at the beginning it tells you that you probably should not kill them. Cheryl did not read that article.

Watching that activity, I thought about it from the bug’s point of view…

bug – “doddy-oat doe” Humming to itself. This looks like a good place to hunt as it moves into lighted part of the kitchen floor.

Cheryl – “Eeeeke! Get outta here you!” Lot’s of thumps and bumps while she tries to get up.

bug – “Holy cow there must be some kinda earthquake going on.”, it thinks. It freezes to check its surroundings.

Paul – “What’s happening in there?”

Cheryl – “There’s one of those thousand leggers.” As I come into the kitchen she says, “There it is!”, pointing to the insect hiding under the base cabinet front. I grabbed the fly swatter hanging on the pantry door and handed it to her as Mr. Centipede scampered out of harm’s way under the refrigerator.

Paul – “Here use this it will work better.”

The centipede stayed under the fridge for a few minutes searching for prey and weighing options for escape. Soon the cry erupted, “There you are!” WHACK. WHACK WHACK.

bug – “Damn. Crazy woman. What is up with you? I’m outta here.” It retreated back under the fridge and Cheryl shoved the fly swatter under the front of the refrigerator in an effort to chase the bug out from underneath. It reappeared to the left when Cheryl was probing to the right. She whacked at it some more as it attempted to scurry away.

bug – ” Ow, ow ow. OUCH. That hurts. Why are y…” Centipedes are delicate creatures and tend to disintegrate with a direct hit. This one did just that.

Gone to centipede heaven as dust.

Cheryl – “Got it!”

There is a rule in our house. No bug of any type may live there. No benefit may ameliorate the absoluteness of none.

I laugh now. It is entertaining to watch. I used to worry because of Cheryl’s balance issues. I worried that she would fall down chasing a bug across the floor. And then I realized that often her Parkinson disappeared for a bit. The necessity to cause death to all bugs overrode any Parkinson. In fact she is pretty good at mashing ants with the tip of her cane or the tip of a walker leg. The only thing that needs improvement is her reaction time.

Bug whacking is also pretty good exercise. She will come right out of the chair to bush whack a bug.

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.

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.