“Monday Monday…”

So this is a gif…not sure what those letters stand for, except it is a mini-movie of sorts. And this is what it looks like outside right now. Wind blowing, rainy, and cold. And I have lights on. It is dark today. It is Monday, too.

This morning, I’ve spent countless minutes interviewing doctors and finding one for my mom. I have a headache. The staff at the various offices were awesome. It is just time-consuming and I am praying for a good fit. I made an appointment, so that is a small victory, right?? I remembered to thaw meat for dinner, so that is another one. I am still not dressed, but mom is. So that’s some more of a victory…baby steps…lol!

I posted the other day about finding peace and calm in our home. And I did say it was a tightrope. Well, today even the rope is missing. Not sure what brought it all on, but I have an idea. And it is like taking so many steps backward, it feels like day #1 and all the fallout we had from relocating. Her tone; her mood; her attitude. Yesterday, a Sunday, we went out – twice in one day – and saw lots of people and there was a lot of sensory input. Our youngest son had sensory issues. He would get so quiet in public and people would often ask us, “Does he talk?” Well, he talked – a lot – but he shut down in public because it was just so much information, and his brain was processing so much, that he was quiet. When he got home, that’s when he verbally exploded and talked about what he had seen, who said what, and he ran around like a crazy little man. And as I think about it, an Alzheimer’s patient experiences some of that same processing style. And it is a processing disorder, when our brain is trying to put the images, sights, sounds, smells, and tastes into some sort of order we can understand and it is not working. Alzheimer’s patients lose brain cells on a daily basis. And processing that input can wreak havoc on a mind, let alone a mood. And boy, oh boy, today is a day. I am actually hiding in another room to avoid confrontation. I am also seeing some odd behaviors today. For example, I heard sounds from the pantry in our kitchen and went to see what was happening. She was embarrassed when I saw her eating cereal out of the box and then yelled at me for asking if she was hungry. It is that sort of day. I had thought the mood would pass, but not yet, I guess.

(I added another gif above for your enjoyment). Redirecting those who are lost can be very difficult, on the best of days. On a bad day, I have found that speaking very little and just walking away helps diffuse the situation. Time will help because those neural synapses are firing and eventually, today anyway, there will be a good set of connections. I just may have to wait until bedtime. For some, the synapses may never fire again. And that is when we need support. I am joining a phone support group. I am taking an online class. And I am reading – a lot. And some days it is just me and mom. And the rain. Ho-Hum. It is one of “those” days. I am hoping for some sunshine this week…in more ways than one!

Yours is the day, Yours also is the night; You have prepared the light and the sun. Psalm 74:16

 

Advertisements

“…like a weaned child, I am content.”

Things change. And change is almost always difficult. And learning is sometimes rough, as well. But when you get to the other side, there can be joy. Growth is amazing. And change can bring new light to your life.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”       John 1:5

Our journey has been tough (and it is far from over or settled) but I brought some of the practices of my faith into dealing with this horrific disease, Alzheimer’s. And they seem to work for bringing centering and peace, even when faith is not the ultimate object or goal. Silence and a quiet environment, and a steady environment, has made so much of a positive difference. Just like silence is where we seek the wisdom of God in our lives, it can sometimes completely center us in all our life’s aspects.

I was being fed stories about how busy people are, etc. from several people I trusted. But what I found, in reality, was the busy-ness was to avoid much of life. When someone has Alzheimer’s, their ability to participate in life is greatly diminished. They think they are participating, but they are truly observing. Moving about and going from event to event gives them a sense of involvement, but it is just keeping them busy. As I researched the schedule at the senior complex where my mom used to live, there was something every hour, all day long. So when my mom came to live in our home, she complained, and was angry, about being bored. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. To entertainment to be had. She forgot how to entertain, and busy, herself. It was all about playing Wii bowling. About going to this event or that event. After days of explosions and anger, I just decided enough was enough. We stopped. We stayed home. We stayed quiet.

“My heart is not proud, Lordmy eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.” Psalm 131:1-2

One of the things I am learning (through this Alzheimer’s class I am taking online) is that as a caregiver, it is my goal and my purpose to bring peace and contentment to my mom. And lately, contentment has been so apparent. And it is wonderful to see. Wonderful to be around. And it came through stopping this “busy-ness” and allowing a calm to take over. And there has been an emergence of peace, gentleness, and far less confusion. And so much more apparent, there is genuine love. That has not, yet, been forgotten.

Alzheimer’s is fatal. As one of our teachers said, “Life is fatal.” It is. We all die. But most of us pass away with ourselves intact. Alzheimer’s destroys the brain, bit by bit, And each day that passes, more is irrevocably lost. The patient becomes disintegrated, mentally, and is no longer rationally intact. It makes each day unique unto itself. Because not only is each day unique, due of the progression of this horrific disease, each moment is unique. What works at 9am may be totally wrong at 10am. And so it is a tight-rope walk each day. But the explosions and the confusion, and the underlying agitation, those are less and less. Her memories of what she used to do and where she used to live, the people she hung out with, those are fading. She is even using incorrect terms when referring to them. And she is not less because of it, nor is she missing it, nor is she angry about moving. She adores her bed and her room. Each night, she sighs and comments on how much she loves that bed! It has become a source of joy for me. We have had frank discussions about her end-of-life choices and have had some incredibly peaceful discussions about how she wants to die. It melted my heart. We communicated well and we found commonality and peace with her choices. I cling to those moments.

Patients with Alzheimer’s are aching. Because their world is contracting and they find it harder and harder to connect with people each and every day. They get frustrated and so very confused. And taking care of them infects the lives of their caregivers. There are days when I feel like I adopted a 3-year-old. And there are days when I just want to go back to bed. I have stacks of paperwork I am trying to get through, but will someday have to tackle. And I am cooking and cleaning and doing laundry for 4 now. I am learning how to work with someone who doesn’t fully understand the moment and it is good, stretching “muscles” I did not know I had not used in awhile. Caregivers find they are tugged, stretched, and pulled in ways they did not know they could survive, let alone thrive. I am far more tired these days, but I am not wasting many of them! I am too busy!

The joy I see each night, and the hugs I get every evening, complete with profuse thanks for all we are doing for her, well, that pretty much makes it all worthwhile. I haven’t got this cornered and I truly don’t have all the answers, but I do know God is blessing our lives. He is helping keep me quiet and centered. And I enjoy feeling the peace seep into in our quiet mornings, and the contentment I feel in our warm, slow, and quiet evenings. I fall into bed, exhausted each night. Tonight is no different. Tomorrow will be a new day in almost every way. But I will greet the day with hot coffee, and with gratitude for this incredible journey…

 

Ka-Boom. The morning exploded….

I really have no words to adequately describe the past 4 weeks of my life. And it is just getting more convoluted. I truly, truly had no idea what dementia and Alzheimer’s meant. Not really. You can read all about it. You can study it. But until you experience what it does to a loved one, firsthand, you truly do not know what it is like.

My mom is so very angry. I think she’s been angry for a long time. When my stepdad passed away, from a pretty horrific bout of cancer, the bottom dropped out of her world. She has never really recovered from that. He has been gone for a little over four years now. Her Alzheimer’s got much worse through her grief. And over the past four years, she got much worse than I realized. I don’t think any of us realized it because none of us lived with her.

It truly is living in the moment. Because her entire personality changes moment to moment. There are all sorts of adages about Alzheimer’s that go around, too. And I am finding some truth, but most are mythical! I think, based on my experience with both my parents, that the disease amplifies traits that are already there. They may be latent, or hidden, but they are there. My mom was always known for her sharp tongue. Always sort of cranky. And it has been amplified. Her kindness was so bittersweet, when we got it as kids. So the fact that her kindness is shown less and less, should really not surprise me. The vehemence is surprising some days. Today was particularly ugly. And I found myself retreating to my inner voice…deeply breathing…praying for kindness from me to her. I am learning to not take the bait. She knows the buttons to push. It’s one of the reasons I moved out of the house at 18 and never really lived with her again. I stayed with her for a few months when I was in my 20s and my parents split up. She discovered she had breast cancer and I stayed with her throughout treatment and follow-up. But then she moved to her own apartment and that was that…over 30 years ago. So there is a lot of adjustment on both sides.

And this disease makes adjusting to something new particularly ugly. For all of us. They say to get time away…but she cannot be left alone. She thinks she can. She thinks she’s independent. “Please let me know what I can do to help you. I’ll be your helper.” Those are her common mantras. But when I asked her if she wanted to bake a cake with me, her reply was, “Haven’t done that in a coon’s age. Would not know what to do.” And when I asked if she wanted to help with dinner, “Oh, honey, I haven’t cooked in eons. Would not know where to start.” Then I asked if she wanted to help with her laundry: “I can fold it I suppose.” “Would you like to hang up your things?” “Well, I can do that. I’ve been doing that since before you were born.”  Then I hear banging and she’s ripping all her clothes out of the closet because she “doesn’t like this closet.” I spent an hour, repairing her room. When I remarked later in the day, as she was slamming drawers, that her clothes were all over the place, she said, “Well, I thought this was my room and I could do as I pleased.” I told her I was trying to help her stay organized. Her reply, “I’ve been organized all of my life. I can certainly organize my own room. I’ve been doing this long before you were born.”

And afterwards, she came into the living room all smiles and happiness. Completely forgetting the past half an hour. And she sits now, watching the Disney remake of Cinderella, all happy and sweet.  I think one of the hardest parts of caregiving is the relentless roller coaster of emotional outbursts, both good and bad, that come moment to moment. It makes your head spin. And I quite literally find myself breathing heavily, spinning brain, praying for inner peace.

The dog jumped off the couch last night and tore the skin off her shin, scraping her pantleg as she leaped to go outside. The wound was ghastly. I had to trim the extra skin and bandage it. It bled through overnight. She completely forgot she had hurt herself, and was picking at it this morning. And she got it bleeding again. She had totally forgotten what had happened. As I explained it to her, she got angry because (I think) she realized she had forgotten. But as I dressed the wound, she was all smiles and kindness.

So many things are lost with Alzheimer’s. The perception the person has of themselves, their lives, their memories, are so very skewed. My mom is constantly berating me about how independent she was at “Fairwinds.” I have come to hate that word. It is the name of the VERY active senior housing she used to live in. To the tune of almost $6,000 per month. I have come to realize it was very expensive entertainment. Because that is what it truly was. Expensive entertainment. She has no idea how to entertain herself anymore. She sighs and gets angry and bored, waiting for something or someone to make her happy, to entertain her. She has lost her sense of self. She has not done laundry or cooked or cleaned for herself for the past four years. And with Alzheimer’s, that is pretty much her entire life. So how do you overcome or undo all of that? I am still trying to figure it out. One thing I did change was leaving the house every day, striving to find something she enjoyed doing. Yesterday she asked for a manicure/pedicure at least four times. So I planned to take her today. This morning when I mentioned it, she said she had filed all her nails last night and now doesn’t need a manicure or pedicure. Yeah. She has no file. No polish remover. And I was with her all night. It did not happen. And she dug in her heels – she doesn’t want to do that today. *sigh* But she is heavily sighing and angry, over on the couch, picking at her nails again…

How do you deal with this daily? I am still working it out. I am not sure. I am trying to find community support, but juggling time is hard. Her Alzheimer’s is bad enough I cannot leave her in my home alone. It is still new to her. And as I said above, she is now sighing and picking her skin and nails, bored out of her skull. But one of the things I have realized is that I am not her entertainment committee. Yes, I will need to find activities, but so far, she has rejected every senior center in our area, within 20 miles of the house. Every. Single. One. So my options are very limited. I keep waiting for some divine light to shine on me and I will know what to do next.

I have a stack of books to read that people have recommended to me. But when am I supposed to read them? “The 36-Hour Day,” “Keeping Love Alive as Memories Fade,” Lewy Body Dementia,” “Understanding Alzheimer’s Disease,” “Caring for a person with Alzheimer’s Disease,” on and on they go. But when you are in the midst of it, when do you read about getting help or dealing with it??? Tell me and I’ll implement. All the platitudes in the world don’t get you through a day. Perseverance and a sense of service, working for a higher cause, those get me through my day. Knowing she is mom underneath all the ugliness of this horrid disease. Prayers from friends and family. Knowing there are those in the wings supporting me. Those things get me through my day. And chocolate, and my new bottle of scotch (but I am really monitoring that consumption). A maid would be awesome. A million dollars to hire help would be great. More hours in the day. More days in the weeks. Yeah. Alzheimer’s truly sucks. Trust me, here in the trenches. And guess what? It’s only week #2. Yeah. I feel way older than my years today.

Pray for me. And my family. I love my husband. He is so gracious, kind, and supportive. I am blessed to be married to him. I thank you, Lord, for your many blessings.

And there go the sighs and fidgeting on the couch. It is getting louder. Clearing her throat. Sneaking looks at me. More angry sighs (yes; I can tell the difference). Cinderella is almost over. Perhaps we will do those nails anyway…*sigh* (that one belongs to me).

“…children are a heritage from the Lord…”

Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him.  Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court. Psalm 127:3-5

Family can mean so many, many different things. Some of us, me for example, have very small families. My parents immigrated to the USA. Both of them are only children. So I have no aunts, uncles, or cousins. And I have just 1 brother. Any other relatives I have are living in other countries. My paternal grandparents came to the USA, because they did not want to be away from their only son. So for me, 6 people at the table was big. I married into a large family. My father-in-law was the eldest of 10 siblings. My mother-in-law is the eldest of 3 siblings. They are all “Germans from Russia” or “Volga Russians” and they all married within their culture. Until me. Our wedding  was filled with literally hundreds of people I did not know, and may have only seen that one time.

When we got married, we wanted a large family. We decided on 6 kids. Well, biology and God chose to make that number 2 and then we adopted, which brought us to 3 boys. My oldest son has two kids (although I think they may be thinking more might be fun) and our middle son has three girls (and we think there will be more!!). Our youngest is not married yet, so we will see on him. My sister-in-law, however, decided to keep up with her paternal grandmother (Grandma Kaiser) and is the mother of 10 children. They are vacationing with us with 9 of their 10. It has been so exhausting but has brought so much joy and laughter. I will miss them terribly when they leave. And when they leave, I leave for 10 days! LOL! Our lives are insanely crazy right now, but as my head hits the pillow each night I am so grateful for these many moments with family.

When you live so far apart, relationships have to be re-established and sometimes there can be mis-communication and missed opportunities for healthy communication. It is a tightrope and/or a tap dance. But if you work at it, you can enjoy such a wonderfully full life.

Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates. (Proverbs 31: 28-31)

The crown of marriage (quite literally in Byzantine/Orthodox weddings) is our families. Some of us have to adopt to have a family; some of us have friends who become our families. However you gain a family, it is what we pivot our lives around.

In the fear of the Lord one has strong confidence,
and his children will have a refuge. (Proverbs 14:26)

I truly feel that when we surround ourselves with the love of God and instill this love in our families, we are doubly blessed. But oftentimes we worship differently and this causes issues, too. In order to keep the peace we sometimes have to be silent. And being a silent witness to your beliefs can challenge even the greatest theologians. And above all, we need love. And love translates to some of the most sublime moments we will ever experience in our lives. This week, we have had some of the most precious moments in our lives, so far. And it is through “smushing” all this family together around a single table; into a motorhome and SUV and trudging through rain and wind and enjoy the beauty of where we live, that we are forging a stronger family. We are blessed.

 

 

 

“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

So, I did it again. LOL. I got another tattoo. At my age, with my grandma, crepe-y skin. It hurt. And it bled more than my other one. This one has colors. LOL. But it is still small. It’s on my wrist, just like my other one. I’m a tatted-up grandma. Cracks me up, just to say it, let alone be it!! LOL!  I find it so interesting how people look at you when they see tattoos. I know, because I was like that, too. Immediately judging a book by its very colorful cover. It is such a shallow view of life. Truly, it is. I had one of the best conversations on God, the Crusades, and modern faith with the man who tattooed my first one, a year ago. How people choose to decorate themselves is up to them. Some have different colors of hair, or hairstyles, each time I see them. There are those who pierce themselves (which just looks painful to me!!). Others have long, fake, fingernails in a variety of shades. Women wear all sorts of make-up. Then there is jewelry and clothing, the car you drive, the house you live in, the job you have, the church you go to. It is all adornment of some sort or another. Look at Matthew 6: 25-24 below:

Therefore I say unto you, Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body than the raiment? Behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not ye of much more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit unto [a]the measure of his life?  And why are ye anxious concerning raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:  yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God doth so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?  Be not therefore anxious, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?  For after all these things do the Gentiles seek; for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.  But seek ye first his kingdom, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.  Be not therefore anxious for the morrow: for the morrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

The Lord cautions us not to worry about our clothing (or any adornment) or the food on our tables, but rather, be concerned, firstly, about His kingdom and His righteousness. And don’t worry about “the morrow,” because today has all its own evils. My tattoo is an “omage”, if you will, to my family. I got a “Forget-Me-Not” flower surrounded by 4 hearts and a little swirling going on, all the size of about a quarter. The Forget-Me-Not is the state flower of Alaska. It is also the flower for Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Both of my parents suffer from them. Our nuclear family consisted of mom and dad, my brother and me. So I got the 4 hearts for us. As my brother and I were chatting the other day, he said when he and I start going dementia on our families, and people comment on it, we can say, “It’s just normal in our family.” And we laughed. As I got tattooed yesterday, I died a little bit inside. Because that is the truth of it. We are losing our parents and more than likely, our families will lose us, too.

As I woke up this morning and saw this tattoo – after removing the bandage I wore all night – I noticed all the blue. LOL. I am not really a blue person. I tend more to greens and reds, and lately, purple. The swirling and hearts are purple. But wow, that is a lot of blue. There is even yellow in the center. LOL. Yellow. Yeah; not my color. And as I thought about seeing it all the time, I realized that it may make me uncomfortable, but Alzheimer’s and Dementia are not comfortable, at all. When my oldest son got a tattoo of the “crown of thorns” around his bicep, I cringed. It was ugly. His comment to me was, “Well, Mom, the crown of thorns was ugly. It is supposed to be ugly. If Jesus could wear it on His head and live through it, I can wear it on my bicep and remember that sacrifice.” Now, he wants to morph it into some sort of Celtic thing with his Spartan helmet for his unit in the Army. He sacrificed much for our country and he will be incorporating that crown of thorns into it. I get that. But when I first saw that gorgeous young man of mine with an inked arm, I actually cried. Because I had grown that baby in my womb and the Lord and I labored over making the perfect skin…and he inked it. LOL. I was not a happy mama! And now I have one more tattoo than he does! He was having a ball, giving me alleluia for getting a second one last night! The stinker.

We memorialize things in this world, to remind us of important events and feelings. The Islamists get this and they regularly destroy statues and memorials to history, because they want to erase it from our memories. “Out of sight, out of mind.” People in the South are tearing down memorials to the Confederacy. It seems stupid to me. The Confederacy is alive and well in all its descendants, as is all of our shared Christian history. Tearing down a memorial won’t erase those memories. For me, I have tattoos to remind me; to give me comfort. They are not for anyone else. They may assault the senses of others; they may cause others to look at me differently or perceive who I am differently…that is okay. If my new ink bothers you and you cannot see past it to see me, I am sorry. Perhaps we were not meant to be close friends, after all.

And I wept, thinking about how my parents will be forgotten themselves, as they, too, forget. Neither of them wants a gravesite. Neither wants any sort of memorial service, either. Both asked to be cremated. My dad is donating his body to a medical school in Texas and when they are done with it, they return the cremated remains to the family; my mom is donating her brain to the Alzheimer’s Association and once they remove it they will cremate the rest and return it to her family (me). So I will have no memorial to visit for my parents. And if I somehow am lucky enough to be gifted with Alzheimers and/or dementia, when my family sees my tattoos on my wrist, I hope they will remember the struggles my parents had, and I had with them, and be gentle and kind to me. That they will see my tattoo of the Cross of Jerusalem and remember how fervently I loved God and fought for my faith – to keep it and witness it to them. My personal “Crusade,” fought and lost and won, for them and for me. That when they see this little flower all wrinkled upon my body, they will recall I waited until I was 61 years old to get it, and that I got it for my parents and for them, too. So none of us will forget each other, as we wade into the uncertain future.

“…on the path unwinding…”

The world is spinning and we are all hanging on, while it tumbles in space. And every once in awhile, it seems like there is a “hitch in the get along” and things go askew. We all have those days where we want to just crawl back into bed and hit the rewind button. I had several of those days recently. Thankfully, not back-to-back, or I would be nutsy….certifiable.

 Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2

I was talking with my hubby, who has also been very stressed out lately, and I told him that if he continues to carry everyone’s burdens on his shoulders, he will be crushed with the weight of it. He said he knew that, but then asked me, “How do you stop caring?” And he is right. We both tend to worry too much about things and people and situations we really don’t control. We take on the burdens of others because it is just part of our nature. And sometimes it can weigh you down. A lot. And those are the days we want to stay in bed, hiding under the blankets, and just not deal with it.

As we age, we forget everyone else is aging, too. Sometimes it hits you when a friend’s kid all of a sudden is older and doing adult things, and you still think of them as a little child. Those years when my kids were young seemed to drag, but as they hit high school, life began to race by us. And somehow I related to my parents and other family members the same way – I forgot that as we aged, they aged, too. After speaking with my mom this morning, I was relating how my youngest son’s girlfriend’s grandma is my age. Ha-Ha. And my mom said she remembers turning my age 20+ years ago. And I stopped and realized she is 87 years old. I remember my great-grandma being 87. I remember my great-grandpa, at 90, saying he was just flat-out tired and dying a few days later. My dad (his grandson) is pushing 91 years old. My dad has Parkinson’s dementia, Alzheimer’s, and a host of other ailments. My step-sister (stepmom’s daughter) and I had a two hour discussion about our parents (they have been married more than 35 years now) and how their aging is not going well. I remember babysitting her when she was in junior high school. People thought her younger sister was my daughter. And now we are discussing our parents’ death wishes and we realized they probably won’t last the year. When did all this happen? When did she become a grandma, too?? I am used to the fact that I am older, but when did everyone else get older?

“Listen to your father; without him you would not exist. When your mother is old, show her your appreciation.” Proverbs 23:22

And we are trying to listen to our parents. We are trying to appreciate them and honor them. Dementia and Alzheimer’s make caring for them so very difficult. And it makes these last days we share with them very stressful. I kept thinking my parents would always be there. But they will not be. “None of us is guaranteed our next breath” (Thank you, Abouna Justin, for the quote). We all should be prepared to “meet our maker.” I’m not sure what state my parents’ faith is in, but that is not my business. I will share with them as I able to, from the place in which I find myself spiritually, and try to meet them where they are. However, what I am tasked with in the immediate future is respecting my parents for who they are and what they have done for me in my life, and ensuring their comfort as they experience the end of their days. I want them to know they are loved and appreciated. I want to keep them fed and warm and comfortable, and occasionally share a laugh together.

And I am doing this while still parenting a teenager; while being a grandma to 5 gorgeous grand babies, and still trying to enjoy the move to a new home. In a few days, my sister-in-law will arrive in their motorhome with 9 of their 10 children. I am looking forward to it so very much. But at the same time, I realized this is my last free Saturday. Because after this, I will have company at my home, and then I will be flying to get my mom and moving her in with me. My life is going to completely change. So is hers.

But I want to embrace it all with joy and hope and a love of God, sharing that love with others. Some days I know I will want to crawl back into bed and hide. But I won’t be allowed to do that. I will be guiding my teen towards adulthood, my grandchildren into childhood, and my mom and dad to “meeting their maker.” And in my head, I keep singing that Disney song from the Lion King….

Circle Of Life
From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the Sun
There’s more to be seen than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
Some say eat or be eaten
Some say live and let live
But all are agreed as they join the stampede
You should never take more than you give
In the circle of life
It’s the wheel of fortune
It’s the leap of faith
It’s the band of hope
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life
Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with the scars
There’s far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the Sun rolling high through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round
In the circle of life
It’s the wheel of fortune
It’s the leap of faith
It’s the band of hope
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life
It’s the wheel of fortune
It’s the leap of faith
It’s the band of hope
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life.
And we are all spiraling along on our own circle of life. Things happen, days pass, the world keeps spinning on its axis. As each day morphs into night and we face another day spent, I hope we reflect on how we have moved through our own circle of life that day. How we have embraced these responsibilities we have been given, and how we celebrate all the joys we have experienced. Life is a blessing. Life is to be cherished. Each day of it. As I was struggling with anger towards my husband recently (cleaning out a garage is NEVER fun) I kept telling myself how grateful I was for our many blessings, and how incredibly blessed we were to have all this stuff we needed to deal with and put into its proper setting and place. The opposite – being homeless and having nothing – would indeed be frightening. And as I have learned through keeping a gratitude journal, there is something in every day and in every thing to be grateful for. Truly. So, I am grateful for this latest spin on the circle of my life. My Lord is with me every step of this life. I am grateful and I am blessed.

“Serving up memories since….”

We are chipping away at “settling in” to the new house. Yesterday, my daughter-in-law put up a vinyl sign I bought on Amazon for my kitchen. She bought me one for my laundry room, too.

I have not really embraced the idea of these vinyls up until now. They seem more like stickers to me. LOL. But I really like how they turned out. The laundry room one makes me giggle every time I see it. And it is sort of me, making my mark on our new home. “Settling in” is a process. It’s not an event, so for me, there is no deadline associated with it. But I am getting antsy about our garage, because it is a morass of boxes…stacks of them. And there are items I am keeping but don’t need to see all the time. We have shelves and shelves in the garage. So we can take things out of boxes and put them on the shelves, where we can use them. I am leaning so towards getting rid of more stuff! LOL! I have heard the adage, “If it is in a box or cupboard and you have not used it in 6 months, get rid of it.” And I like that. The exception up here are seasonal things like snow boots and snow shovels, versus camp chairs and bar-b-que items. They change out by season and sometimes winter is 6+ months and more. Unfortunately, summer never is. LOL.

I’m not sure what happened to summer. Things are already closing up. I spoke with our favorite nursery people yesterday and they were selling everything at 50% off, giving us instructions on how to plant what we chose, and how to winterize it once it was planted. Winterize. I am not ready for that, yet. My mom is due up here the last week of August and I am fearful it will already be cold.

I had a long talk with my dad yesterday (he’s on the left, pictured above with my brother about 3 years ago) and he is 90 years old. He also has Alzheimer’s, and Parkinson’s with dementia, as well as issues with severe trigeminal nerve pain. He is on tons of medications; last count it was 14 medications daily. And it is all hard for him. He has not been a medication person for most of his life, and prides himself on his intellectual prowess. He knows he is losing it. He is aware he is not as nimble as he was. He gets the Parkinson’s thing. But he hates that his driver’s license was taken away, and he thinks, somehow, they own a new car he was not told about. And he is generally, well, pissed off. He is not taking this aging thing gracefully, at all. He does not want to “winterize.” I told him he was 90 and it was okay to relax a little. His response was, “You may as well bury me now, then.” LOL. Growing up his daughter has been interesting, to say the least. Definitely never smooth sailing. And how do you prepare for a winter in your life like that? My brother and I were joking that we are sort of screwed. Our mom has Alzheimer’s, too. So my brother said, “When we start acting all weird with dementia, we can just blow it off and say, ‘Nah, it’s normal in our family.'”  Sadly enough, and funnily enough, it is true. And he and I also have cancer in our family. So how do you prepare for your own winter? What boxes do you need to go through? What can you do without, because you don’t really use it?

Dealing with stuff is not fun. There is “stuff” everywhere in life. Right now, I am dealing with a garage full of stuff that we somehow needed and had to box up and move with us. And after living in our new home for a month, I know there are things I normally use that I cannot find, especially in the kitchen. Household tools I am used to relying on to get the job done. Stupid things like spatulas I like or a particular bowl I prefer to use. Alzheimer’s and dementia are like that. You go to reach for the familiar and it is not there. Instead, there is a blank space; a hole. And it throws you off. A lot. Some people react in anger. Some get quiet and just repeat sentences over and over, trying to reconcile that empty space. And even others refuse to admit there is anything wrong with them, and that it is the problem with everyone around them. Denial. I have been in denial for a month that I need to get into all those boxes out there…that bowl or spatula are somewhere! And how do I make my mark on this house, this life, before there are too many missing pieces and I can no longer function? If you think I haven’t thought of that, you don’t know me well, I guess. I am always thinking of the “what ifs” in life, in addition to all the “what happens when…”

Am I scared? Sort of. But I seriously don’t have the luxury of time to sit and reflect on it too much, other than the occasional blog post or conversation. I am preparing to have my mom move in with me, because she is experiencing too many holes and she can no longer be alone. Caregivers apparently wear out and need help at some point, too. Right now, it is full speed ahead. We are diving into the boxes today. We are trying to get this organization all done so we can rest easier, and welcome my mom to her forever home. Because neither of us plans on ever moving again. Ever. Scared? I don’t have time to worry about it. Too many details to attend to. My dad told me he worries for me, that I will be overwhelmed with caring for my mom, and that he prays for me. I like that. At least he is cognizant enough to say it and to spend the mental effort sharing that with me. Mom is just resigned to living with her daughter. LOL. Me? I am organizing now, so I can enjoy my time with her later.

I am also looking forward to the future. I am flying to spend time with my son and his family. I have a grand daughter I need to meet and cuddle with. I have friends to catch up with. And I have my mom to pack up and fly back with. My sister and brother-in-law are coming with us, so I have some tourist-hosting to look forward to. There are so many positives. God is good. I am blessed. I have a new hair-do I am still fiddling with, and today I will find that stupid spatula and I will conquer the chaos in the garage. The rest will follow in kind. Feeling optimistic and full of love and hope in tomorrow. Winterize? I’ll work on it.