delusions

Wordle and Remembrance

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Knowing They Can Fix Me

The gentleman said as a response to an unknown question in an advertisement about a medical institution. I was watching the morning newsy program(s) and thinking about the day. It is a concept that many, myself included, wish for. The hope is that a higher power, a greatness, a consciousness greater than one’s own will take care any difficulty and fix it whatever it is. Is that realistic? What about self reliance? All of this became too hard to think about, so, I awakened the New York Times Wordle game page and did it for a minute or two of distraction.

I inadvertently touched the archive button which I had paid no attention to previously. I found that it would let me go back and work on incomplete games. (down the rabbit hole I went) November of last year was when Cheryl moved to Bridgeway Pointe in the memory care section. There were a half dozen incomplete puzzles. I kept going backward in time working puzzles and thinking about what was happening in our life.

I got to my birthday in August of last year (2023). I did not finish the puzzle that day. I cannot recall anything about what went on that day. Perhaps it was merely another day filled with Parkinson. That goes without saying. The beauty of a journal or a blog is that often I have noted what happened on a certain day in the past. From my blog/journal:

—

That day I wrote about our day. Cheryl was struggling.

—

I am not surprised that I cannot remember my birthday last year. The event itself was unimportant to the task of keeping up with her Parkinson and her dementia. Perhaps one day an oncology style doctor will emerge to straddle the care complexities of PD, dementia and dying which no doctor seems to be able admit is the prognosis for this damnable combination of symptoms and inabilities. The phrase – no one dies from PD, usually you die with it – is very much a distinction without a difference. In fact it might peg the meter on my bullshit detector.

Perhaps next year I can recall what I did this year for my birthday and smile instead of cry.

Carpe Diem.

How do you know?

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How do you know when it is time for an extra care facility? Maybe it is time when she brushes her teeth with Noxema and is not repulsed by the taste?

Maybe it is time when a magazine arrives in the mail and she immediately takes it apart to sort and re-sort the pages into a file.

Maybe it is time if she suddenly at 12 AM becomes interested in calling her long dead grandmother to find out where she lived when she was a little girl and is inconsolable until she can find the phone number.

Maybe it is time if you recognize in yourself that much of your patience with God’s plan is no longer available.

Maybe it is time when she is no longer eating enough to sustain life and you begin to think that perhaps others may be more knowledgeable than you at finding a solution to nutrition.

Maybe it is time if you simply want to help her more than you are capable of doing.

Maybe it is all or none of these ideas. Maybe there are other thoughts that have crept into your mind as you realize how deep your love is and how shallow your skill set is.

Living apart will probably be as hard as living together for the first time when we joined ourselves in matrimony fifty-three years ago.

It makes me sad and anxious.

Carpe Diem

Why

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Why do I feel like Cheryl has to try out restaurant restrooms like a small child who has been recently potty trained? Is it my imagination or the real feeling that she is has. She seems to ignore her bladder and her bowels until we get to somewhere that she may get trapped. She has no ability to think or plan ahead for toilet contingencies. And then at other times it is all she can think about.

Why?

Yesterday, the discussion was about some lesson plans and software development for the early computer program that she pioneered in the grade school our kids attended when they were small. We had come to a nearby park for a walk after dinner. She spoke of this as though it was on going. She had to get that organized.

On the way home from dinner in one of her favorite restaurants, there was a near disaster with urinary incontinence and no protection for it. This part of our life saddens me. She will not ask for help. She knows that she needs help but is either unable or unwilling or simply embarrassed to ask for it. When I offer unsolicited help she will become angry and anxious. I understand this completely and at the same time I do not understand it. An urgency in her head is organizing old birthday, Christmas and other greeting cards in her office. Taking a break from that for a bathroom break has no priority. Her “full” signal does not work correctly. By the time her body signals full to her brain, she is stuck because she forgot how difficult it is to get out of the chair. The bouncy motion she uses is not helpful. She will not ask for help.

Why

Tonight when we got to the restaurant she was looking around to see where a couple of our kids were. She thought that they were coming even though there was no mention of them coming or any communication of that sort. An idea jumped into her head from left field. In the afternoon lots and lots of left field thoughts appear. Why is this part of the plan?

Why?

Why in the afternoon? Or is it merely that I notice in the afternoon and it grates on me more after having dealt with her worsening dementia all day? Sometimes her memory is so short it is not unusual for her to forget the previous sentence. Where are we going? – can create great frustration in a caregiver (me) when repeated at two minute intervals throughout the day.

This essay started with me sitting in one of our favorite restaurants wondering if she would be able to get back through the ladies room door. As I now read what I wrote that day and think about where we are with this disease — we is an important part of those thoughts — my meditation drifts off into why do I think I know better? For that matter why do folks generally think that they have the solution to this dilemma or that conundrum and freely volunteer the solution? There is no answer to that last comment. I can, however, parse and control and limit my own contribution to living our best life with Parkinson.

Tomorrow we see a new doctor. Her calling and interest is palliative care with a chronic degenerative neurological disease. Cheryl’s movement disorder specialist suggested that she might be able to help. He also wrote scripts for PT, OT and speech therapy. She has been therapied by these people before. She lied to the PT folks last time when they asked if she tried the exercises that they gave her to do. I do not think her moderately cognitive impaired brain thought of it as lying. She thought about doing the exercises, that was enough.

For my part, I bought a caregiver call button from Amazon. My thought was that Cheryl could press her button if she really felt that I could help her – get up, find clothing, get socks, and a myriad of other small helps with which she is struggling (her mind says no she is not) but does not want to accept that she needs help with (see I did it again.) Her speech is so soft she cannot say loudly, “I need help” or I am not listening. With this doorbell she could press it when she needs help rather than me hovering around the bathroom door asking, “Are you doing okay?” She does have to keep the button with her. That is the next great solution to find.

Admittedly it seemed like such an attractive solution. Ugh!

Carpe Diem

Hoping against Hope

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For many weeks about eight or so Cheryl has been aware of where she is at night. It all vanished tonight and I drove her around the reset block back to our condo and home.

A dark starless nightmare as I prayed the trip would take her mind home.

I found an old movie called “Nebraska” and we had been watching it for 30-40 minutes. Cheryl seemed to be following the story line. I believed that she was anyway. After forty minutes or so after taking her bedtime pills she announced that she wanted to go home. I clarified like always do with response- we are home. We went to church, then to a restaurant and came home to here where we live. To which she responded that she wanted to go to her “other” home. Her imposter syndrome had reared its ugly head.

I wonder what triggers this delusion. The movie dealt with early dementia issues in the main character’s father who read the clearinghouse sweepstakes mailer and believed that he had won a million dollars. He wanted to travel to Lincoln Nebraska to get his winnings. His son humors him rather than fighting his father’s delusional behavior and make a road trip to Lincoln. Things happen along the way as the story unfolds.

We have watched other movies and Cheryl merely announces that she is tired and wants to go to bed. Tonight she wanted to go home to bed. Tomorrow she will have no memory of this episode. I will not mention it. If she does we will talk about it. She will not mention it though. If she does it will be the first time.

Carpe Diem

Changes are So Slow

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Today as I encouraged Cheryl to wake up and get out of bed it occurs to me that the changes are very slow. This morning is very different. It is hard to recover from a night of little or no sleep.

Yesterday she was awake very early simply because she had not slept overnight. I was not awake overnight to observe her but I get up two or three times to use the toilet. I long for the days when my bladder could contain my overnight urine output until morning but alas those days are gone. (I have digressed.) Each time I made this trip she was awake and talking to me. As I attempted to fall asleep, she squirmed as she attempted sleep. Each time I woke up she was in a different position. It suffices to say she slept little overnight.

Yesterday she was delusional and hallucinal and those experiences went to talking to her mother, my mother, seeing our two sons around, seeing her deceased sister and our smallest grandchild, Zachary.

Yesterday evening was my regularly scheduled meeting with friends. We formed a stock club many years ago and we enjoy a few beers and talk about various get-rich-quick schemes as well as attempting to discover the next Walmart or Amazon. It is a satisfying evening for me and our son Scott comes over to hang with Mom for a couple hours.

We had a gift for our newest high school graduate so I enticed our son David to stop by and pick it up. As I was texting David and working out the details Cheryl wondered aloud if Scott was bringing Zachary with him. I texted Scott with that request.

Our daughter-in-law brought Zachary over after he had been fed at home. Scott came at the usual time to hang for awhile. And David came by for a few minutes to pick up the gift and chat with Cheryl for a few minutes. I left for my meeting.

She saw them all in reality instead of inside her head.

Afterward she went to bed and although she was awake when I returned from turning off the lights and reading for a bit she fell asleep shortly thereafter.

Today she really had a hard time getting started. I rolled her, she has a new transfer chair, to breakfast after getting her on and back off of the toilet. She ate scrammed eggs, toast, bacon and some orange juice. She has started reading the Wall Street Journal to which I subscribe. (Getting rich quick is still strong in me.) She likes the editorial pages. I rolled her back to the bedroom afterward and now I hear her moving around selecting her clothes for today.

Carpe Diem.

Scrambled Eggs

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This was a strange morning so far.

Cheryl was interested (it seemed to me) in going to bed at the normal time about 10 PM. I helped her through all the normal changes and toileting. Afterward I sat up to read but could not wrap my head around the story I was reading. I came to bed at 11 PM.

After I laid down and got comfortable she started talking to someone. I thought at first she was talking to me but listening I realized she was having a conversation with whom – several people – she was seeing in her head. She has had these episodes in the past but not for some time. Last night and early morning her hallucinations were strong. At least three people were in the room – Nancy and a couple of smaller children and Zachary. They talked about church topics. They talked about playing. they talked about what was best to eat. They talked about books and stories. They talked about breakfast.

After an hour or so of this I got up. I must have gotten used to her murmurings and fallen asleep for awhile but I awakened at a little after 1 AM and could not return to blissful slumber. I got up and pulled the sofa-bed apart with the intention of sleeping in the living room for a couple hours but that did not work out as I heard her moving around shortly after I got up to switch rooms.

When I reentered the bed room she was perched on the edge of the bed trying to get up in her hop-hop mode. I helped her up and she needed to put her imaginary earrings on the dresser in our bedroom.

I suggested to her sleepy, dreamy, hallucinatory self that she sit on the toilet while we were up and she did that. I changed her overnight incontinence stuff and while I was doing that she saw imaginary wetness on the floor as well as several imaginary insects moving about. We captured the imaginary insects after getting off the toilet and searched for more. Afterward she announced that she wanted scrambled eggs and ham. I sadly reported that we were out of ham and I would have to go to the store the next day and fix that but I could do scrambled eggs and toast. She was okay with that modification.

I made her scrambled eggs at 2 AM.

After she ate we returned to bed. I did not hear the living room clock strike three but that may have been because I stopped its pendulum while I was laying on the sofa-bed earlier next to it counting the ticks and the tocks.

It is 10 AM and she is still sleeping and I am wondering how long to let her sleep. We plan to meet one of her friends for lunch today at 12:30 or so. And what should I offer her for breakfast. This day is starting out very hard for Cheryl and very slowly.

Carpe the breakfast Diem.

Great Unknowns

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For the past couple days Cheryl’s watch has been missing. It is THE WATCH. As a routine each night we place the watch on what I call the little hat. It is actually a little ring holder that was given to her by Anna. She put her rings and her watch on it but a little more that a year ago I purchased for her a gold chain to wear her rings as a necklace. She had lost enough weight in her hands that her rings would fall off in the car or a chair or the restaurant. This last was the scariest.

But I have digressed. –THE WATCH – has been missing since at least Wednesday. Kathy came to visit on Wednesday. I first noticed that her watch was missing in action when I made dinner and Cheryl and I sat down to eat it. She is right handed so she wears her watch on her left wrist. I noticed it was not on her wrist but I did not say anything because sometimes she does not wear it. Later when we went to bed I noticed that it was not on the little hat. For a couple days I would surreptitiously search for THE WATCH.

About noon today as she was preparing to take a shower and I was searching, I found her watch. She often puts rubber bands on collections of random items in her office. Her watch was on a book shelf in her office near some items that had been banded together. My heart leaped for joy. (I have not been following my own rule of looking around her office to see where things might be.)

Lately, however, I have become anxious about Cheryl’s mental health. The watch story is not about that, it seems to me to be slowly worsening as time goes on. And I think that I am getting used to it. (That idea makes me anxious and adds a fear of not recognizing changes immediately.) My daily notes about bedtimes, falls and other behavior are no longer daily. I note falls and other anomalies. Bedtimes are between 9:30 and 10:30 typically. Her impostor delusion (a noted behavior) seems to appear if she is up later than 11 PM and disappears into her office to “work on stuff.” Last night was one of those nights. I drove her around a four mile loop in the rain as she anxiously gripped her purse waiting to get home.

She was okay with me helping to change her clothes and get into bed when we got back. She wished me farewell and safe driving home. I left the bed room and open and closed a few doors as though I was leaving. I took off my jeans and sweatshirt that I had put on over my pajamas to make the drive. I turned off the lights and gently eased into our bedroom as her husband coming to bed. It worked. I worry that one time it will not work. So far my fear is unfounded but I still worry because I do not have another plan except for sleeping in the living area on the pull out sofa-bed.

At one time in the past I asked her if she remembered any of that. I learned that a reminder in the morning of odd behavior is unwarranted and perhaps even stupid. Introspection of failed ideas is useful.

I still wonder (and worry) about her failing memory and confusion and general mental heath. And of course how to pay for it all should she need extra care that I am unable to give her. Maybe I need some counseling? Or something to ease my mind? Engineers spend too much time what-iffing the situation.

On the morning news the U.S. Congress spent much of the taxpayer’s dollars annoying the CEO of TikTok. That social media platform gets more time per average viewer that Facebook and Twitter. Alas when will we discover the unimportance of Facebook and other social media? … except as another form of 1960’s TV.

Carpe Diem.

Like a Bunch of Random Boulders

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What Rose Forgot is a novel by Nevada Barr. Rose, the main character, is struggling with mental illness and memory loss brought on by some unseemly characters in her family. Her granddaughter helps her through the dilemma that she finds herself in. But one line early in the novel stuck out – memories fell into her head like random boulders from a bucket high up all jumbled with no relationship to each other.

Cheryl’s conversation, especially in the evening, is much like that. Kathy came to visit her today and I noticed that her conversation and memories are like that during the day also. Kathy ignored any incongruities if she knew they where there. Had I been sitting near Cheryl I would have had to correct her memory of people and events. It is really, really difficult for me to not jump in to the conversation to fix things.

But I am getting better at it.

I am not certain that I got the quote right but the image is there. Random chunks of memory come into Cheryl’s head. It makes me sad. Sometimes she realizes that this is happening.

Tonight when we came back from getting ice cream at our favorite ice cream store, she went off looking for her Mom in our condo. I did not stop her or correct her impression. And, to her, perhaps, Elaine was there.

I am in pursuit of her calmness of mind. And I admit it makes me anxious.

Carpe Diem

Dog, Cup, Rainbow

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Like many old retired folks we have a Medicare advantage plan. When I investigated these a few years age I came to the conclusion that the United Healthcare plans offered through AARP seemed to be appropriate for our needs. There have been several adjustments and realignments over the past several years and I am not in any way an insurance expert but so far the system has worked for us. United Healthcare has a feature that sends a nurse practitioner once a year to visit to check their clients if they want to participate. Participation is voluntary. Cynical me wonders what benefit the insurance company receives from visiting it clients but practical me says there is some benefit otherwise they would have no reason to pay a skilled NP to drive around the countryside to visit clients. There is no altruism in corporate america. I agreed to a visit by Whitney on Thursday of this week.

UHC Housecalls (Whitney) came to visit that day. We went through all the medications that Cheryl takes for Parkinson and my few meds for high cholesterol and too much eyeball pressure. There is a modified MOCA test – draw a clock, remember three words while drawing the clock. The normal blood pressure, heart rate and lung listening happens as in any wellness visit. There is also a clip on gadget and an app that runs on Whitney’s laptop that produces circulation information. Good news we are both alive! And one of us could remember the three words.

In addition to Whitney coming to visit, so did Nancy, a friend of Cheryl’s from church. In fact Cheryl has had a different someone come to visit every day this week. It has been busy and that tires her out.

Cheryl was showing signs of exhaustion on Wednesday. In the evening about 11:30 pm she needed to go home. I was heartbroken that night and tired myself from the time change. The impostor (Capgras) delusion seems to appear about once every two weeks. I put her in the car and drove her around the block. I am usually terrified that this time it will not work. This night it did (still).

Today it was hard but busy. Writing this on Thursday, I wrote that I forgot her pills at 1 pm.  Damn. That will mess up her mobility and her mind. Later on Thursday I noted — it is almost 8 PM and I think she is back to her normal for now.

Cheryl could not complete the modified MOCA test on Thursday. Today, Friday, she went to lunch with her friend Barb. The week of visits, no matter how well intentioned, is over.

Tonight we went out to get dinner at one of our favorite little restaurants. St. Patrick’s Day pub crawls where in full swing on Friday night. [Éirinn go Brách] The food was good and the crowd was raucous and loud. St. Pat showed up on the second day of March madness.

Carpe Erin Diem.

And Tonight We had to Go Home

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Sometimes I can convince her that we have come home and we have not left the house.

On other days and nights that is impossible. No night is the same. On this night we had to go home.

I gently got her in the car. I was proud of the fact that I did not get upset. As we drove around the block about 2 mile per hour below the speed limit – the ride is longer that way – I kept up some chatter about various things. Some stories about upcoming events on our calendar.

As we drove in front of our regular Pizza Tuesday spot, she told me about being there last Friday with Paul.

As I turned the corner to climb the hill, I asked her if she knew the way from here. I got no response. As we got to the top of the hill and she began to recognize some land marks she said, “I live on the other side of all that.” (She was headed home in her mind.)

As we got close to our driveway entrance I said, “It’s good to be home. Isn’t it?” she responded, “Yes, it is. I’m tired.”

Dementia, Capgras and Parkinson were in full cooperation this night.

I fear that this little drive around the block reset ploy will not always work. That makes me anxious.

Maybe God will provide me with another plan.

Carpe Diem.