This morning I am thinking about the little incremental changes this disease of Parkinson caused in Cheryl. The trees in these pictures are maples and they are turning with the season. It is not apparent in the big picture as they show below but zoom in and each individual leaf has a tinge of red around the edge of the leaf. The green still remains in the core of the leaf. Little incremental changes as the leaf begins to shutdown for the season.

Tonight and on days since I started this essay, I am thinking about the little incremental changes this disease of Parkinson that has invaded the person I most want to be with, the person where I am home, has caused in me. Our green area is smaller. And yet at the same time it is still green.

It is my goal to talk to her on a level that is her. Sometimes her behavioral response to some situation can appear childish to me. It has only recently come to me that I must ignore that perception and talk to her as I once did. Almost every morning when I wake her she will ask, “Can we still get to church?” or “What time is church?” I used to respond with, “There is no church today.” Sometime in the past I decided that response was unhelpful. These days when she asks me about church I take that to mean, “What is on the agenda for today?” She has little memory of what we may have discussed doing on the previous evening when we went to bed.

Aphasia appears often. When she is telling a story it is very important to her to get the names dates and places correct, even if she is way off the mark. Her mother is no longer on this Earth nor is her sister Janice. Cheryl tells stories about them or visiting with them in the present tense. Once in awhile I might tell her that her mom is in heaven. She will respond, “Are you sure?” That question reminds me that it is unimportant to correct her perceptions. I have a difficult time resisting the natural male response of – bullshit that is not the way it is.

It appears to me – just observation – that although she can read, the words are mostly meaningless. It the morning over breakfast we look at the newspapers. For me that is the Wall Street Journal. For her that is the Cincinnati Enquirer. I have two observations; She does not recognize that they are two different papers. She is unable to comment on articles that she may be looking at in the paper. (I have asked.) The particular article might be about some city council fiasco. She will tell a story about Sr. Janet and what the newspaper tells Cheryl about her job with the parish office.

I know there is some green still left in the middle.

I am thinking about how it has changed my focus. I used to worry about how late she slept in the morning. The why of that worry always comes back to how much sleep I will get that night. Those two ideas are connected only in my mind. They are not connected in practice.

It changes my perspective. There is a bigger picture. Just like these trees on our property, when one zooms in one sees the differences in the leaves but when one zooms out one sees beauty.

It changes my interest. What can I do to enable her to reminisce even if her memory is weak? Perhaps I can aid her reminiscence. Comment about her stories to get her to tell me more.

It changes my observation of the universe. There is beauty everywhere you look. Cheryl is always telling me about the moon when we are driving somewhere. I look too. She can see the moon in the clouds. So can I if I look carefully and listen to where she says she sees it. A shape in the clouds looks to her like the moon. I long to see through her eyes.

Maybe I could read to her rather than watching her struggle to understand printed words.

Carpe Diem.