From Edie… a Facebook Friend

From her post

This is not my writing but Edie captured my thoughts with this post on Facebook. She and her husband are in about the same place as Cheryl and I with Parkinson’s Disease.

“Accepting what is…
Choices and Avoiding
The Sting of Defeat…”


There isn’t a day that I don’t
Experience either a “slap myself on the forehead” moment, err on the side of caution, spout off an opinion or best of all, make my fella laugh or smile.

Some days are just rough. They’re tough!

Others?
Well…there are good times; a smile across the room, a look of total understanding and the knowledge of who we are currently (and who we once were together. We’re still one.

This is a tough week for me personally. Our 45th anniversary is Saturday, Oct.24th. Tommy has been clear headed lately with some delusions.

A while back he mentioned several times that he wanted things to be “like they used to be” with our family.
Life evolves and nothing remains the same.

As we all know life is not static. We’re a close family, but the grands have grown up, moved away and their parents are busy too. We used to have UFC Fight Nights, BIG holiday gatherings etc., and even no reason to get together functions. We gathered often and now? Not as much. Parkinson’s causes loneliness.

PD has changed all of us in various ways. We’re each caught in the midst of love, losses and our own feelings and responsibilities in life aside from Parkinson’s and Dementia.
It’s inevitable.
It happens.

We’re all worse for the wear because it’s a ruthless disease. But making, (hopefully the right) choices, accepting the realities of PD and Dementia, and preparing proactively for change has helped me to avoid the sting I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

Our CNAs have given me the “breathers” that I have long needed to separate myself from too much of anything that could bog me down when I’ve been up to my ears In either a struggle with Tommy, a medical issue, the VA or my own emotions. As caregivers we have lists of to do’s a mile long that threaten to swamp us.

While I’ve been planning our family gathering for our immediate family members, I’ve pulled out photos of us throughout the years, and of course…I cried.

I cried because I love Tommy passionately. I miss him, but I accept him as he is too. I do love him even more today than yesterday. Some days we get on each other’s last nerve too!!!

I cried because as much as I have tried to keep PD and Dementia out of our lives, it has, like a bee being threatened, taken a bite out of us and stings like crazy!

When I finally came to terms with accepting the transition from normal to cognitive issues and delusions, I had another epiphany. I came across a photo of one of the Santorini stones I paint. Painted in the body of the bee are the words, “Let It Bee.” Lord knows, I’m trying!

Moving forward.
My menu for Saturday consist of Tommy’s favorites and the carrot cake is my favorite. The wine, Moscato-Asti is our favorite.

I pre ordered (from local businesses) everything so I wouldn’t have to prep or cook. I’ll decorate the cake with a topper that says “We Still Do” and edible FALL leaves. I’m excited and a little off kilter too.

Having the family near will be centering for us both.

The menu is planned and is “enough”. It will be truly complete
when our group comes together with gratitude around the Kynard House table.

I wish you all could join us! I’ll post pics later.

Edie and Tommy


We too celebrated a milestone anniversary this year. We have been married 50 years. Sometimes I am disappointed that our retirement activity is centered around Parkinson’s Disease and other days I have come to understand that it may be the reason for being.

Our children organized a wonderful celebration. For that I am very thankful.


50 year cake

Anna also put together this collection of snippets of various sources.

We were young and skinny then.

… 50 years later here we are. Happy 45th Edie and Tom – May the sun always be shining on you and your family.

Down Today?

Someone posted this quote from Sir Hopkins on Facebook and it passed through my news feed today. There is a Beatles song — Eleanor Rigby — that popped into my head. … ?? …

I have lots of things to ponder. I told Alexa to play the Beatles. Music from a time when Cheryl and I were young. Their music is soothing today. Alexa selected “Let it be” for the first one to play.

Black Bird … calling in the night.

This past week or so we have added two new drug therapies to Cheryl’s meds. They are working and they are not working. In a previous post, I described quetiapine for sleep. It seems to help. Melatonin helps with falling asleep. Seraquel seems to help with remaining so. Although we have had some odd episodes in the bathroom at night, it seems that she is actually asleep during these. At least, she has no memory of these in the morning.

Good Day, Sunshine!

Morning conversation often starts with her inquiring how I slept. We talk a bit about anyone that we may know or a family name that shows in the obits. And the past few mornings she has gotten up before me and had her bowl of cereal for breakfast. Sometimes she asks about overnight. Sometimes I tell her gently in my effort to determine if she has memories of anything overnight. I think the quetiapine is working. She will get up for bathroom trips but she comes back to bed. I know. I get up and go to the other bathroom. I think we are on the same schedule. (smiley face emoji here)

Yellow Submarine — similar shape to Ondansetron

Ondansetron was prescribed for Cheryl’s repeated feeling of nausea after she takes her medicine. She has been taking it for a long time and apparently her stomach has become intolerant of the meds. Zofran was originally developed for those dealing with chemotherapy. It seems to be working well. Although she still lays down in the evening after taking meds at seven, she does not complain of nausea, she complains of fatigue. And that only for a short(er) period of time.

Back to Anthony’s quote

Everything is random and there are no guarantees.

http://www.goalcast.com

As a caregiver, I often find myself focused on observing Cheryl’s behavior and asking her questions about how she is feeling in that very moment. From her point of view, I am probably exhausting. From my point of view, I cannot help it. I love her so much and it tears at my heart to see how this crazy despicable disease has changed her life, mind, cognition and even her personality. Nevertheless I have to keep reminding myself to take time for myself whether that is exercise – walking or riding – or reading or journaling (now). The quote from Anthony Hopkins struck a cord with me. Another way to say it is, “Stop and smell the roses.” One cannot put too much emphasis on taking time for oneself. Balance between giving care and taking care is a delicate thing to achieve.

Alexa just played “Help” by the Beatles

Ask for help before Parkinson’s sucks all the air out of the room and the day is lost. … Oh bla dee oh bla dah … life goes on! [and Eleanor Rigby is playing again]

Uncle Wally Died Today

In the midst of a pandemic, life and death which is a part of life, go on around us. Wally was 90 years old. He stayed at Wellsprings at Evergreen, a retirement community in Cincinnati, Ohio.

I didn’t know Wallace Comer very well in life. On the few occasions when I had met him, he was cheerful about life and his family around him. His niece married my son and it is through connected family that I met him.

On Monday, October 12th, my son sent a text message to me. “Melissa’s Uncle Wally passed away over the weekend. He pretty much decided he was done a couple weeks back and dropped off pretty quick.” … In another text message; “… He seemed like a guy who just wanted to quietly check out.” So our family is sad today. It is easy to let go when you are very old. My own father did just that at very nearly the same age as Wally. If you knew Wally in life, remember him. He is still alive to you.

Wallace Comer

Cincinnati – Wallace James “Wally” Comer age 90. Born May 21, 1930. Passed away in the early morning hours October 11, 2020 at Evergreen Wellsprings senior Facility. Survived by son, Josh Comer, Pittsburgh PA. Sister Mary Listerman, Erie PA. and many nieces, nephews, and good friends. Predeceased by sister Patricia Schneider and brother James Comer. Wally graduated from Elder HS in 1948. He served in Korea as First Lieutenant US Air Force 1952-1954. Graduated from the University of Cincinnati with a B.S. Degree. Extensive career sales/marketing and counseling. Worked for Proctor and Gamble, Quaker Oats, Foote Cone & Belding, and Hamilton County Rehabilitation Services. In retirement he enjoyed golfing, watching the Reds and visiting friends. Visitation will be Wednesday, October 14th from 10:00 AM until time of Funeral Service at 11:00 AM both at Mihovk-Rosenacker Funeral Home, 10211 Plainfield Rd. Facemasks and social distancing are required. www.mrfh.com

Wally, I did not know you well but rest in peace my friend.

How do you know when it’s love?

I have a bad memory for names. Authors that I like to read, songwriters I like to listen to rock bands I loved in my younger years, I have a hard time knowing who wrote what or who sings what.

Recently when Eddie Van Haylen died, I told Alexa to play a mix of his music. It played “What is love?” first. I had not heard this song in awhile. I was very touched by the words of this song. I do not know why, but it means more to me now.

Van Haylen

Everybody’s lookin’ for somethin’
Somethin’ to fill in the holes
We think a lot but don’t talk much about it
‘Til things get out of control
Oh, how do I know when it’s love
I can’t tell you but it lasts forever
How does it feel when it’s love
It’s just something you feel together
When it’s love
You look at every face in a crowd
Some shine and some keep you guessin’
Waiting for someone to come into focus
Teach you your final love lesson
How do I know when it’s love
I can’t tell you but it lasts forever
How does it feel when it’s love
It’s just something you feel together Oh oh oh oh
Oh when it’s love
Oh oh oh oh
You can feel it yeah
Oh oh oh oh
Nothing’s missing, yeah Oh oh oh oh
Yeah, you can feel it
Oh oh oh oh
Oh when it’s love
Oh oh oh oh Nothing’s missing
How do I know when it’s love
I can’t tell you but it lasts forever
Uh, how does it feel when it’s love
It’s just something you feel together
Hey, how do I know when it’s love
I can’t tell you but it lasts forever
When it’s love
Uh, When it’s love
Hey it lasts forever
(Na, na, na, na, na) when it’s love
(Na, na, na, na, na)
(Na, na, na, na, na)
(Na, na, na, na, na) give it up We’re gonna feel this thing together (na, na, na, na, na)
When it’s love, oh (na, na, na, na, na)
When it’s love, baby (na, na, na, na, na)
(Na, na, na, na, na)
You can feel it, yeah
(Na, na, na, na, na)
(Na, na, na, na, na)We’ll make it last forever
(Na, na, na, na, na)
(Na, na, na, na, na)

Oh, it’s love Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Alex Van Halen / Edward Van Halen / Sammy Hagar / Michael Anthony

When It’s Love lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc

When you tell Alexa “Play Van Haylen” — you get a lot of rock songs with a love theme. Somehow that means more to me these days as I spend more time addressing Cheryl’s needs.

Parkinson’s disease sucks. (I have not written that for awhile.)

Two New Arrows in the Quiver or Better Living through Chemistry

Ondansetron for nausea and Quitiapen for a sleep aid. How are they working?

Ondansetron Hydrochloride

The drug for nausea – Ondansetron – seems to work very well. I have adjusted when Cheryl takes it a bit. The instructions merely say three times a day and at first I interpreted that to mean 7AM, 1PM and 7PM which are normal times for her to take meds. For the past couple days I have given her the evening pill at about 5PM which is 45 minutes to an hour before we would ordinarily eat dinner. It seems to be working for her. I have repeatedly asked her about stomach issues and she reports no issues with her stomach.

This report – no funny stomach – is very encouraging since it has been her main complaint for months. I can empathize. Over the past couple years she has lost approximately thirty-five pounds of weight. The dyskinesia puts her body in constant exercise but the combination of no sense of smell and a slightly uncomfortable stomach keeps her from eating much. (During this whole time she has not vomited but as she says, it is right there.)

Quetiapine Fumarate – 25mg

The drug used as a sleep aid – Quetiapine – might or might not be working as hoped. She is prescribed 1/4 of this little pill before bedtime (10PM). Shown above it is approximately 1/8 inch in diameter. We have a pill spliter but these are not scored for cutting in half as many pills are and certainly not scored for quarters.

The first night she took this she slept completely through the night. This was the first time in approximately two years. The second night she got up once. The third night she got up once and seemed restless for a bit when returning to bed. The fourth night was similar to nights before she started taking it. I am not convinced that she is getting the same dose each evening, so I will find a way to slit these tiny little pills as uniform as possible.

An update: Last night seemed better. She used the walking frame for stability. Only once.

Zofran — From Wikipedia —

Ondansetron, sold under the brand name Zofran among others, is a medication used to prevent nausea and vomiting caused by cancer chemotherapy, radiation therapy, or surgery.[2] It is also effective for treating gastroenteritis.[3][4] It is ineffective for treating vomiting caused by motion sickness.[5] It can be given by mouth or by injection into a muscle or into a vein.[2]

Common side effects include diarrhea, constipation, headache, sleepiness, and itchiness.[2] Serious side effects include QT prolongation and severe allergic reaction.[2] It appears to be safe during pregnancy but has not been well studied in this group.[2] It is a serotonin 5-HT3 receptor antagonist.[2] It does not have any effect on dopamine receptors or muscarinic receptors.[6]

Ondansetron was patented in 1984 and approved for medical use in 1990.[7] It is on the World Health Organization’s List of Essential Medicines.[8] It is available as a generic medication.[2] In 2017, it was the 83rd most commonly prescribed medication in the United States, with more than nine million prescriptions.[9][10]

Seraquel — From Wikipedia —

Quetiapine, sold under the brand name Seroquel among others, is an atypical antipsychotic medication used for the treatment of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and major depressive disorder.[6][7] Despite being widely used as a sleep aid due its sedating effect, the benefits of such use do not appear to generally outweigh the side effects.[8] It is taken by mouth.[6]

Common side effects include sleepiness, constipation, weight gain, and dry mouth.[6] Other side effects include low blood pressure with standing, seizures, a prolonged erection, high blood sugar, tardive dyskinesia, and neuroleptic malignant syndrome.[6] In older people with dementia, its use increases the risk of death.[6] Use in the third trimester of pregnancy may result in a movement disorder in the baby for some time after birth.[6] Quetiapine is believed to work by blocking a number of receptors including serotonin and dopamine.[6]

Quetiapine was developed in 1985 and approved for medical use in the United States in 1997.[6][9] It is available as a generic medication.[10] In the United States, the wholesale cost is about US$12 per month as of 2017.[11] In the United Kingdom, a month’s supply costs the NHS about £60 as of 2017.[10] In 2017, it was the 76th most commonly prescribed medication in the United States, with more than ten million prescriptions.[12][13]

This website Drugs.com has pictures and characteristics of everything.

It has been a couple years now

This meditation has guided me through these last few months since I read it. I have edited it a bit for me personally. I try to read it and hold it in my heart each day. In an email from him, James Clear makes points about success, happiness, health, wealth and peace of mind. I try to use mindfulness as a way to reduce my own anxiety and understand what it is that any higher power may have in store for Cheryl and me.

Wealth is the purchases you don’t make.

Spiritual wealth is tied in no fashion to material wealth. Over time Parkinson’s disease has robbed Cheryl of her abilities to control and reconcile our check book. Through our entire fifty years of marriage she has done this family task. My interest was usually – how are we doing this month dear? Are we winning or losing? Her response was often – we are winning but it will be a little tight this month. She is frugal. Material wealth is not in our cards. Neither of us are risk takers. But over time if it is not important for one to have the latest, newest, nicest shiny new object enough material wealth accumulates to see one through to the end.

Spiritual wealth is more illusory. Spiritual wealth requires work. How can I do my best job to acquire more spiritual wealth, more inner peace? What sort of spiritual purchases can I avoid to gain or regain wealth spiritually?

Routine in life is calming to me. Routine provides a place for one to put your thoughts and displace the anxiety that arises from new PD behaviors. But lately, my routine is not my routine. New things seem to get added each week. Like laundry, which I never did in our previously un-parkinsons life. I have adapted to this addition. Friday is now laundry day for clothes. Monday is laundry day for the sheets. Wednesday was for towels and the like but I left this up to Cheryl because every now and again she would decide it was time to clean and part of that was to wash the towels. Over time with her parkie mind it became random. I suppose this is a new routine to be added. Service given freely to others, in my case, my wife, who needs my help provides an opportunity to gain spiritual wealth. Not purchasing the anger that arises from the constant tug of war between my way v. the previous (her) way can help with spiritual wealth. Remaining mindful of the mental fragility that comes with some PD patients may add to stress in a caregiver. Acknowledging that fragility, recognizing the tug of war, and then letting any stress or anger with the disease go often for me gives way to a bit of grief for what is to come and a calmness (acceptance?) of what is to be. This is a sort of meditation.

I think we all long for an easy road regardless of whether we are giving care to someone with a chronic illness or not. I know I do. I long for the pre-parkinson banter. The snide comments and the snappy comebacks would make us laugh. We spent fifty years becoming comfortable with that banter and learning how to push each others button and how to not do so.

From Sunday’s Gospel–MT 21:28-32; ‘What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He went and said to the first, “My boy, go and work in the vineyard today.” He answered, “I will not go,” but afterwards thought better of it and went. The man then went and said the same thing to the second who answered, “Certainly, sir,” but he did not go. Which of the two did the father’s will?’ They said, ‘The first.’ … after this Matthew wanders off into the weeds talking about tax collectors and prostitutes.

This is an odd gospel reading. The first kid responds as a teenager might — nope, not today pops. I’m hangin’ with the guys. Then he changes his mind. He does not apologize. He just goes. The second kid is a liar. Families are complicated. The first child is a reluctant helper. The second child is an asshat. I do not know where Matthew is going with this story and he does not tell us. He goes off into a ditch about the less desirable elements of any societal group.

Greater spiritual wealth is gained by doing for others without grumpiness about it. Lesser spiritual wealth is achieved by doing only. Spiritual wealth is gained in both cases. It is human to grump occasionally. Don’t beat yourself up about it but do not be a liar. Liars are below prostitutes in the social order and they are asshats.


Happiness is the objects you don’t desire.

I desire very little in life. It is a low bar but as long as the money and I run out at about the same time, I am good with that.


Health is the injuries you don’t sustain.

Exercise and eating your veggies add up to relatively good health. Stretching when you get “on in years” is a must. If it hurts, stop! Physical therapists will tell you that over and over. All good advice.

Find some sort of exercise that you can enjoy and stick with it. If you want to body build do it. If you are a runner, do it. If you are a dog walker, do it. If you are a stroller, do it. If you can do yoga and like it, do it.

Take care of your mental health. If you spend a great portion of your day caring for another or others, take time for yourself occasionally. When your grumpiness takes control it is time to go out and find balance.

Do not hurry your relaxation.


Peace of mind is the arguments you don’t engage.

Taking extra meds to fight side effects brought on by the Parkinson’s meds. It is an argument that is unwinnable even without the loopy logic of PD. Stay away from there.

Cheryl first; me second. It use to bug me a bit that she would schedule my time without warning after she quit driving. I became a built in Uber driver. I actually referred to myself as the driver — as in — Do you want to join us for dinner? My reply — Don’t ask me I’m just the driver.

Do not do that to yourself as a caregiver. You are in this too.

Someone else is using my pads. Virginia is making some sandwiches. She is taking care of the baby left here. … it seems that more and more Cheryl is slipping into her own reality. Trying to correct her thinking about what is real and what is delusion merely creates heartache and anxiety.

Avoid the bad to protect the good. — Stay off Facebook and avoid political crapola in your life.


Success is largely the failures you avoid.

Failure can be turned into success if one takes the time to learn from that failure. Life is rarely a straight line.


Thoughtfulness, meditation and mindfulness help to bring peace of mind. These are all different names for prayer.

More Air on the Chair

In a previous story I reported that THE CHAIR did not come as predicted on the tenth of September. I have since learned of other fat fingered fumbles one encounters when there is human involvement.

Between the attempted delivery of the incorrect chair on Thursday September 10th and my third attempt at acquiring information about delivery of the correct chair September 20th there was a furniture buyers convention at an undisclosed location. Woo Hoo! Party time with some work. I get it. I have been there. But there is a internal structure flaw that shows within Furniture Fair’s receiving and ordering system.

Mistakes happen when humans are involved. The incoming inspection department, if there is one, missed the fact that the Prestige Power Recliner was not powered. That is an easy check to make because the buttons to operate it are on the side. The manual chair has nothing at all. The incoming inspection merely requires looking two places; one look at the order sheet to read “Power” and one look to the right side of the chair itself. Alas, that did not happen.

Since incoming inspection was flawed and no report was made to the buyer it has been eleven days before manufacturing in Mississippi knew of their mistake. Longer in fact because an email to their customer service website (Southern Motion) revealed they had no knowledge of the mistake.

The customer – me – was not disappointed with the furniture store until the customer discovered through conversation the compounded error. In fact I was not disappointed with the manufacturer. After all shit happens. One just fixes it and moves on. But there was no reaction from the receiving department. Alas. And there was no reaction by the buyer group because they were away discovering new things to buy.

On another topic when I called to talk to someone at the Furniture Fair organization to ask about what was next I was always referred to the original salesman. That always seemed odd to me. I was pretty sure that other than the original sale he was no longer directly involved. At the store itself there was a clerical staff backing these sale guys up. I was pretty sure that when he entered our order it was merely going to the purchasing staff. He would not have been involved in the ordering, shipping, receiving and delivering process. At the outset he explained that the typical order to delivery time was 8 – 9 weeks and the pandemic had slowed that a bit. A very honest synopsis of the eventual process. When he was unavailable I was able to speak to the store manager. Nice gentlemen all, but why were they involved in my dilemma? Their whole role seemed to be to look in the computer and tell me nothing was happening. The girl who answered the phone line could have told me that nothing was happening.

Customer perception is one of inability to react to errors. The back office must be chaotic at best.

Make Time & Wellness v. Forced Time & Illness

Last night I found my clothes and Other conversations

The day that we had these conversations, generally speaking, Cheryl was having a pretty good day. When she is in this “pretty good day” mode she remembers many of the funny little conversations we have had in the middle of the night if I ask about them. It is as though she can step away and talk about what she was seeing or thought she was seeing . Her cognizant brain is able to view her in-cognizant brain’s thoughts and interpret them as not quite right or even odd.

We were walking on our 1-ish mile loop

We were walking on our favorite one mile (not quite but close) loop near Mill Creek. She tells me – you know when I get up at night and some times I go into that closet by the bathroom where my pads are and get a new one because it seems like I leaked a little? I have pads in there. Do you know where I mean? Me – yes. The closet by the bath tub you mean? (I am not sure where this is going.) Her – yes. That’s the one. Well, I saw a lot of clothes in there that looked like mine. How did those get there? I don’t remember putting those in there but I’m pretty sure they are mine. At least they look like clothes that I have. (Insert a puzzled loving face here. Most emojis do not work.)

… Patience, wisdom or empathy — which one of those is necessary now? I just go with the flow most times because I am unsure if she is standing outside her thoughts or reliving them. I said to her that we put our clothes in that closet when we moved into our condo. And when I do the laundry I hang your shirts and pants in there if they need hanging so maybe I put them in there when you were not looking.

a foggy day

She responded with – I have no memory of moving. (Oh, poop.) She goes on to tell me – I remember looking at the condo but I really don’t have much memory of the day we moved. She phrased that in a fashion that indicated to me that she knew we had moved to a smaller place about 4 years ago but was simply fuzzy about the details. Four years ago she did not seem to be struggling mentally. I could have not noticed at that time because her mother was still alive and she was making a daily trip to Bridgeway Pointe where her mom was staying. Our life was busier then. Her main complaint was her knees which in my mind was the main reason we moved. Our condo is a flat one floor two bed-roomed affair with a small den that I have taken over for my man-space. There are no steps in or out.

She continued with – If you are looking for my clothes there’s some in there. At least they look like my clothes. Me – yes, I think they are. There are some in a tub too. Those are your winter things that are saved away for the season. Her – yes there are. Now at this point I am thinking she is coming to believe that her clothes are hanging in the closet. But then she says – I am not sure where your clothes are. Me – that’s okay I will look for them when we get home. They might be in my armoire. I will look. She seemed satisfied with that and we walked on talking about other things that were sky and weather related.

Which clock?

our bedroom clock

Early one morning the clock in our bedroom which is electronic and looks like the image above did not alarm at 7AM as it usually does. I woke up anyway at about a quarter after 7 and went to get Cheryl’s meds for 7 that day. I helped her up to the bathroom and after she took her meds and was heading back to bed for a bit she said – I don’t understand how do you know what clock to use. Me – I use that one to get up for your seven o’clock meds. It’s a little off. (I was thinking of the wind-up in the living area which bongs out the hour all day long.) Her – is it eastern time? Me – yes it is.

It was my mistake thinking she was comparing the clock’s displayed time to the gongs from the living room clock. No such thing. What she was really telling me is that this clock is confusing to her. About now it displayed 7:22AM or so because the alarm did not sound at 7AM. She did not recognize that the first dose of meds were a little late but she did recognize that the time was wrong. She could not make that connection.

Admittedly when I bought the clock I thought it would help her understand the time of day. In the picture above it displays “Morning”. it also says things like early morning, evening, afternoon, late afternoon and so on. I turned these messages off because at first she would say – what does that mean? Early morning? It is dark out. It seemed to be too much information so I turned it off. I said to her – yes it is eastern time. The whole daylight savings thing is confusing to her and an unimportant imposition by the deep state agency called NOAA. (smiley face.) It occurs to me that I could “spring ahead” or “fall back” at 2AM. I am often up about then for a potty break about then. I do not think the time police get up until about 6AM.

For the rest of this morning she was tired. And the same throughout the day. It is as though the whole discussion about time wore her out somehow.

Everyday comments

Who is eating with us? Sometimes phrased as – Is (name) here too to eat? Or similar. Is everyone eating? — she will ask when I get her out of her office to eat the dinner I have prepared.

While she is working on her birthday card list or Christmas card list the people that she is thinking about become real to her. Occasionally she will talk to them. She will ask questions and talk about what she is doing.

With the pandemic pandemonium we have had many Zoom meetings – She will ask; Where will they all sit? Do we need more chairs?

Carpe diem – I attempted sourdough bread today … a bust on the first experiment. I guess I was hoping the starter would react like real yeast in a jar. Nope!

Maybe in a week after I can find a better name for the starter other than “Larry the Loser”. Maybe “Jack it Up” or “Spring Forward.” (another smiley face)

Perhaps this is one of those “aha” moments.

Today was Amusing

Most times I write about what is going on in our Parkinson’s life a day or two after I make little notes about what happened or was annoying or what was joyful or simply going well. Often I say “Carpe diem!” It is useful to take advantage of the good times and ignore the less good times. Waiting a day or so to write personal experiences gives one the opportunity of hindsight. Sometimes hindsight is crystal. Sometimes it is merely asinine. In both cases amusement creeps into the story.

Thursday was the day!

In June we ordered a new recliner to deal better with Cheryl’s unsteadiness as she got out of her chair. Additionally the mechanism is powered. It did not rock or swivel. It was a bit taller. It was perfect in every way in the store but when the salesman alluded to different colors and material Cheryl went into full on shopping mode. She selected the same pattern but lighter background to align better with our overall eclectic mix of furniture. After nine weeks of waiting, today was the day it was coming.

We had a – gonna be delivered – time window text message from the furniture store that said the delivery would occur in the mid to late afternoon. Sweet! We could sleep late and have a leisurely breakfast. So we did and enjoyed the rest of the day’s activities.

We went to the Parkinson’s community fitness for her stretching and exercise class. It was a good class for her. If the class has benefited her, she will have a lighter mood and often we will go somewhere for lunch. Today, however, she wanted to go home in anticipation of the arrival of THE CHAIR. The text message gave us the window of 2:30PM to 4:30PM, so, in her mind THE CHAIR was only an hour or so away from DELIVERY. We do not want to miss it. Looking back from 4 days in the future my sight is very keen. I can remove my glasses and see all perfectly. (I can see clearly now. The rain is gone. — Johnny Nash)

Shortly after we returned home the smoke detectors yelled (screeched) at us. In our small condo in accordance with the Ohio fire code we have five. Two at each bedroom entrance – one in and one out – and another in what is intended to be a den or office but the real estate folks want to call a third bedroom. They are all tied together properly so that if one screeches they all do. It is really annoying and very hard to sleep through. It has been approximately one year since they were installed and no doubt the battery in one of them is no longer up to snuff. Time for replacement. I had the batteries. I had been ignoring the job for a couple weeks. No longer could I ignore it. I used up ten minutes and replaced all the batteries.

(Writing this I found out that some of these have been recalled for a manufacturing defect. Not mine because I checked. If you have one to check look here. Thank goodness for the existence of the deep state consumer product safety commission.)

Right chair wrong mechanism

After a light lunch at home we settled into the waiting process. Having changed the batteries in the smoke detectors there were no more home repairs to be completed. This was Thursday so there were no other chores to do either. I could do the laundry but what would I do on Friday? The waiting began. Cheryl disappeared into her office to “organize some things”. I sat in the blue recliner that I decided I was not going to keep for my own to continue reading the novel I had selected from the electronic library. 2:30 PM came and went.

3:30PM came and went as did 4:30PM. Alas, the delivery was late. At 5PM there no sign of the delivery van. At 5:02 PM as I was considering who to call for an update, my cellphone buzzed on the desk. The screen revealed a mystery number but I answered anyway. “Attention! Attention! This is to notify you that the warranty is about to expire on your GE microwave oven. Press two to expand your Covid-19 insurance coverage, etc.” I terminated the normal 5PM robocall. Lord, who needs that when THE CHAIR is late?

At about ten after five, Dan the truck driver called and explained that they were running about 30 minutes late. Would it still be okay to come and deliver the chair? Sure, I replied. Where are you? We are about twenty-five minutes away. I disconnected and looked around the room. All was ready. I put on shoes in anticipation of holding doors or whatever needed to be done to smooth entry of THE CHAIR. I moved a possible interfering dining room chair from the front hallway that Cheryl uses to put her shoes on when we go out. I settled in my chair again to wait.

The front door buzzes. I have long out grown buzzing in people through the outside front door unless I am sure they are family. The postman has a key to let himself in through the super secure entry panel that anyone with a paperclip can trigger. I walked out there to find not Dan the truck driver but Sam his helper and minion. I showed him how to slide the flower pot over to the open outside door to hold it open for entry of THE CHAIR. Anticipation was building.

We proceeded to the back of the truck were Dan had wrestled THE CHAIR out of the bowels of the truck and held it in all it magnificence on the back of the truck. We all took a moment to admire its exquisite design, its smoothly applied upholstery fabricate and its simple elegance. Dan broke the spell by asking – is this the correct chair? I had no idea. It had been nine full weeks since I had seen the chair in the store and the fabric was wrong. Cheryl had ordered different fabric. Taking the manly way out of my ignorance, I proudly announced – it is. Dan and his lackey wrestled THE CHAIR gently down out of the truck and we proudly paraded into our abode for product placement.

After they had set the chair were I had indicated, Cheryl pronounced it to be the correct fabric and of wonderful design. Sam removed the last of the bubble wrap from the legs and I asked Dan how does the motor plug in? No one from the manufacturer to the warehouse receiver to the truck driver to me, until now, had noticed that although THE CHAIR was called a Prestige Power Recliner, it needed no power to operate. Drat, oh dreadfulness, oh woe is us! And crap on a crutch.

“911 warehouse, what is the nature of your emergency?” … The invoice says it is a power recliner but it is a manual recliner Dan says into his phone. He puts it on speaker so the 911 operator and he and I can all communicate our mutual disappointment with the state of our affairs. The clerk at the warehouse asks if we would like to keep the manual chair until the correct one arrives? I decline and point out that the whole reason for purchase was the power mechanism. The simple elegance, swell design and elegant fabric notwithstanding the power mechanism is where it is at. Dan and Sam take the chair which has now been reduced to mere chair significance back to the truck for the degrading ride back to the humiliating warehouse of cast offs and misfit chairs. Alas.

We part company in high spirits. It solves nothing to bring forth rage on the mere deliverers of chairs. I will call the store tomorrow and discover what is up with that and suggest certain motivations to persuade the swift getting of shit together to satisfy a disappointed customer.

I like Charlie Brown.

Fretting is never a good thing. Fretting takes up a great of time if one’s heart and soul is thrown into the effort. Life is too short for fretting and concern over things gone awry.

I had been so caught up with preparations for the coming of the chair that I had not prepared anything for dinner. We selected Mio’s’ Blu Ash Pizzeria for our evening repast. Neither of us had pizza. Cheryl had her calzone that she often has had when have come here in the past. I had an Italian Hoagie and fries. Good dinner and animated conversation about the good things today and the one dilemma made for a pleasant end to the day.

Many would be angry about the chair fiasco. Look here to discover ways to expunge your anger. Anger would be misplaced. Mistakes happen. There is no malicious content to a mistake. It is merely temporary incompetence. This part will continue but not today.

The rest of the day was swell. Carpe diem! (Be selective about which parts you seize.)

Whoopadiddee

Cheryl wrote the following email to a friend to explain the history and background of whoopadiddee:

Last year was the first time that I and members of my extended family decided to participate in the fund raising for the Sunflower REV IT UP festivities.  I had been attending the yearly symposiums for at least 10 years.  I thoroughly enjoy the symposiums… I sincerely hope that you bring those back when the COVID-19 virus goes away.  I always learn something new regarding Parkinson’s Disease… and I always meet many kind and generous people. Anyway, last year, my sister, Janice, was suffering more than usual in her battle with PD.  So her youngest son decided to bring her to Cincinnati so that she could take advantage of all the activities and, perhaps learn some things that would help her.  Janice and her family lived near Tampa, FL, so this was not an easy trip for her.  But Jan stayed with our other sister, Nancy, and we all took turns helping with transportation, food, etc.  When it was time for the symposium, some of the younger people in our family (we have a real large family and extended family — and all but a few of us live in the Greater Cincinnati area).
Well, suddenly many of the younger family members… especially teenagers and young adults… disappeared for a short time.  Now I’m going to pause here for a minute to give you some additional data.  A few weeks before the symposium, I received a couple of phone calls from my daughter, Anna.  Anna is a high school teacher and she is very talented.  Another part of this story is the fact that my beloved Mother died in April 2018.  So behind the scenes, Anna was asking all kinds of questions and being very secretive.  For instance, Anna wanted to verify that her Grandma’s favorite was bright red (it was).  Anna asked a lot of questions — she has always been that way.  Finally, I could stand it no longer and I asked Anna what she was up to.My Mom always liked to take pictures, especially of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  We all knew this.  We celebrated  Mom’s birthday every year, and we rented a hall in the St. Bernard Municipal Building for this celebration.  Our Dad died of lung cancer when he was only 54 years old, but many of our cousins, aunts and uncles from Dad’s side of the family as well as from Mom’s side of the family came to Mom’s party every year.   So we had a big celebration for Mom’s birthday every year.  We usually had over 100 guests at that party.  And when she was still feeling pretty well, she would go around the hall taking photos of her family.  At the time of her death, Mom had 6 children, 20 grandchildren, 30 great-grandchildren, and several great-great-grandchildren.  Of course, there have been several more babies born in the last few years — I’ve lost count!
Now, back to the t-shirts. Anna took the information that I gave her and went to a t-shirt shop and had those t-shirts made.  Torbeck was Dad’s last name — so that explains the name on the back of the shirt.  Now for the Whoopadiddee!  As any good photographer knows, you need to get everybody to smile for the photo.  So when my Mom was ready to take a photo, she would yell (or she would get someone with a loud voice to yell) “ONE… TWO… THREE… and we would all yell Whoopadiddee! And it worked every time, because it’s hard to say Whoopadiddee! and keep a straight face.
So there you have it!!  I think it’s a great story and, best of all, it’s true.  I loved my Mother and I miss her every day.
As a side note, last year, when we were distributing those t-shirts, a channel-5 reporter, Richard Chiles, was walking around Yeatman’s Cove with his photographer, looking for a story.  As he came upon our group, he asked us about the t-shirts, and we explained.  He thought it was a nice story, and it became part of his report that day.So you just never know what might happen when you begin to tell family stories… 
There you are, Allison.  You might have a use for our story some day.  It’s all true.

Captain of Team SMILE

In her own words, this is Cheryl’s story of the whoopadiddee. I often tease her about writing an epistle instead of an email but that is her style.

Whoopadiddee for Parkinson’s and team SMILE!