Monday, July 29, 2013

Monday Night Bingo


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MONDAY NIGHT BINGO AT THE NURSING HOME....


You haven't lived until you've gone to Monday Night Bingo at the nursing home. It's a transformation of meek, mild mannered elderly and young unfortunates who are no longer able to care for themselves independently. Suddenly, someone announces the activity for tonight is Bingo and something magical happens. There is excitement in the air. 



It started at supper time. "Bingo tonight" someone shouted to his hard of hearing neighbor. "Singing? Who's singing?" asked someone to the left. Two table mates look at each other, rolling their eyes. She can't hear a thing," they mouth to each other. "She asked if he's single,"  another responds. 

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Bill and I excuse ourselves from the table to go outside for some fresh air. "Where are YOU going??" I hear. "We have to play bingo." Slowly, we sat back down. This was serious stuff.  

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The bingo cards are chosen, the chips are distributed, and it begins. 

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This wonderful transformation 
slowly converts the helpless 
into the helping...

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and a simple activity 
turns into a moment  
of friendship 
and communion 
with each other, 


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and a simple reminder that 
they are Somebody. 
Somebody important. 
Somebody with confidence. 
 A winner. 

retrieved from the web
It doesn't matter that everybody wins. Twice.
I (the residents) won. And so did my neighbor. 

Friday, July 19, 2013

A note from May 2010... how quickly our lives changed

Reflecting on the past-
I found this post today in an old blog. I am so glad God shelters us from predicting the future.




Professor Bill McLaurine, May 2010



Professor Bill McLaurine,, July 2013



SATURDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2010

Whew!
We did it. Bill made it through the MRI today. Tough tough for someone who is very claustrophobic, has a big history of being suspicious, and has dementia on top of that. The first time we tried (over a year ago) he ran out of the hospital. There I am following him in a dead run (I am 50 and not in shape by any means at all; not a pretty sight) going, "hey, hey, Bill, stop, wait honey..." He met me at the car. That was the last time he agreed to be tested, until now.



On the way to the doctors, Bill was talking and grieving about not reaching all his goals and dreams, and was laughing and reliving some old times. He looks at me summarizing his philosophy by announcing that we are loving life and living it. And that's that no matter how the tests come out. We know it's not a tumor, we know we have some time, so Bill wants his Goldwing fixed. Wow. I feel like I have permission to relax emotionally a little while.



Now, the actual process was a hoot. I had explained to Bill's neurologist, Dr. Roth, about the last excursion of the MRI attempt and Bill's sudden ability to leap over tall buildings in a single bound. Dr. Roth generously prescribes three doses of 10 mil Valium each. He tells me to give the first on 3 hours before the appt., the next one in an hour or so. If he's still showing signs of anxiety an hour before the appt, give him the third dose and they will give him a place to sleep it off. So I give the first dose. His response: I'm driving. Sorry, over my dead body, babe. Someone has to raise Jack and pee the dog. I win. For one hour he of course becomes an expert in back driving. I look at my watch. Time for pill 2. Hallelujah, thank you Lord. About twenty minutes later the talking does slow down. We now limit the conversation only to back driving. We get closer, the adrenalin rises, so down goes the third dose. He not only walks into the appointment,He walks into the MRI room, and totally cooperates. As soon as the test was over, he was definitely stoned out of his gourd, but he is in a jolly and ornery, mood. He gave every person in the office a tough time and words of wisdom, did the test. Bill pops out of the tube chatting away. The doctor is stunned Bill is still talking and walking and asks Bill, "Have you ever taken that much Valium before, Bill?" Bill response is, "Well, not legally, doc."Doctor's cracking up, nurses are roaring with laughter, the blood tech comes out for him and say, "Come on, sassy frass, I'm done dulling the needle." We go have lunch,he starts flirting with the waitress until I smacked him in the head and reminded him he is an old man and married," he spends an hour recruiting our waitress to go back to College, learn a second language (Spanish), and she's fired up and ready to return when we're done laughing and eating.



So, I set a few goals, wrote down a to list, and am making a promise to add Walnuts, popcorn, and yogurt (like one a day) to help control my blood sugar levels. The promise includes being consistant in my daily exercise regime, thirty minutes a day.I know we face some very difficult periods, but right now, at this very moment, I feel hope today. It feels good.

.
POSTED BY LYN MCLAURINE May 10, 2013 AT 1:12 PM

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Life

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"When you think things are bad,
when you feel sour and blue, 
when you start to get mad...
you should do what I do...
Just tell yourself, Duckie, 
you're really quite lucky! 
Some people are much more...
oh, ever so much more...
oh, muchly much-much more
unlucky than you!" - Dr. Seuss


I sat last night at a dining room table, centered between Bill and his sweet co-resident, Betty. Betty, a woman I am guessing in her mid 70's although the years had not been kind to her, sat on my left and Bill sat on my right. Both share in advanced onset of Alzheimer's despite the years differentiating between the two.

I pick up Bill's fork and begin introducing him to his supper. He is resistant to eating and drinking now, for the past few weeks.

 "Oh, no, no," he says. He looks at me suspiciously saying, "I can't eat this." He looked at his food as if it were the cause of his disorientation. I turned to Betty, who smiles momentarily and asks, "What's going on?" I gently lift her spoon to her mouth. She opens widely, accepting the food. I turned to Bill, noting how delicious this food looks. "Just take a little bite, honey." He frowns, but allows a spoon full of salad to enter his mouth. "Delicious! Look at this! This is a southern meal just like your mama would make you! Scalloped potatoes with ham, fried apples, yum!"
He looks at his plate and smiles. I turn to Betty. She has all ready forgotten what we are here to do. "What's going on?" she asks me. "We are here to enjoy this wonderful meal, I smile." I scoop a bit of her food, and she graciously opens and receives. This scenario continues through out the meal as I coax and encourage the two to eat. I cannot help but laugh and smile as I try to carry on conversation between the two, Betty asking me continuously "what's going on" and Bill asking about his dog and his son.
The two laugh as we talk, and others around the room join in with laughter and comments. Tonight we found success for both as we finalized their meals and celebrated fluid intake. I move momentarily from the table and return to help the two finish. Betty is seeing me again for the very first time. "Well, honey! How are you?" Blessed, Betty. Blessed. 






10 Requests from an Alzheimer's Patient

Please be patient with me.
I am the helpless victim of a brain disease.

Talk to me.
Even though I cannot always answer.

Be kind to me.
Each day of my life is a desperate struggle.

Consider my feelings.
They are still very much alive within me.

Treat me with dignity and respect.
As I would have gladly treated you.

Remember my past.
For I was once a healthy vibrant person.

Remember my present.
For I am still living.

Remember my future.
Though it may seem bleak to you.

Pray for me.
For I am a person who lingers in the mists of time and eternity.

Love me.
And the gifts of love you give will be a blessing forever.....

~Anonymous


In memory of my sweet cousin and my number one encouragement to continue to put into words the things in my life that can help others. I will miss you, Patsy (Patricia Keller Nelson) I will keep writing. 

Monday, June 10, 2013

Create a list of 3 things in your life that makes you happy



Create a list of 3 things in your life that makes you happy

My list comes to mind almost simultaneously: 

Freedom from fear

       



                Freedom from anxiety






                     Breathing, listening, living



Freedom of fear
Freedom from anxiety
Breathing, listening, living

For the longest time (most of my married life, actually) I blamed myself for the shortcomings in our marriage. I tried to fix the relationship but I couldn't, of course.  And, of course now I know my husband was most likely already experiencing antecedents of onset of Alzheimer's. It was the beginning of a lengthy battle of hopelessness and helplessness and fear: fear of raising my son alone, fear of starting over. At times it was paralyzing.

Our war with Alzheimer's began eighteen years ago when Bill was 40. My God has lifted me up and carried me above and continues to do so thanks to my deep desire to believe in my Higher Power (I have faith in Jesus) and, thank God, am drawn towards wellness and peace and focus on spirituality and faith. I am surrounded by my family who know only how to love. I am embraced by my beautiful friends, old, new, and renewed. Despite what my eyes can see, despite what my ears can hear, I have found peace in my life.


Many years ago when I was but seven years in my marriage, I asked the Lord to heal my marriage, to give me strength to overlook the hurt and pain, and the ability to live "until death do you part." I believe God has shown me that I am much stronger than I feared I was.  I have found peace in my life. Oh, I face sadness when I visit my husband today and see a whisper of the man I married. Ironically, his demeanor is so very close to the man I fell in love with that I find myself almost forgetting our past. Maybe forgetting is another answer to prayer? All I know is that I am learning to let go of fear, let go of anxiety, and open myself up to happiness. Anyone else want to join me?

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Speaking to my soul


Parable of Immortality 

by Henry Van Dyke: 



I am standing upon the seashore. 
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. 
She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud 
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. 
Then someone at my side said "There she goes!" 
Gone where? 
Gone from my sight...that is all. 
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar 
as she was when she left my side 
and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. 
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. 
And just at the moment when someone at my side says "There she goes!" 
there are other eyes watching her coming..... 
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout.... 
"Here she comes!"

She sits alone on the porch swing  Christmas present her son made for her an his woodworking class just last year.  Looking back over the past year she questions whether any of her memories were her own or if they belonged to someone else.  It all seemed so unreal.



It was one of his proudest moments. 

Sunday, June 2, 2013

These Moments


These Moments


I am mesmerized by the beauty of the stars. I do not always, however, appreciate the opportunities available to take advantage of. 

Rushing to get into my house from my car last night, I happened to glance up. There it was: our Milky Way. The stars creating the beautiful Milky Way were a vivid, glowing entity;  a body of energy; another dimension in my world. The sky was so black, so contrary in comparison to the glowing clusters of stars. I could imagine myself diving into clouds, and being blanketed within the waves of stars which were flowing ribbons in my sky. It was a moment of grounding, a moment of peace. It was beautiful.  

Monday, May 27, 2013

Why hasn't anybody written a manual yet?





"I want to go the ocean. I want to drive a car. I want to be with my family. I am walking a fine line between being me and being lost; swept away. I want to go home. Why can't I go home? I will do the laundry and do the dishes and do the cleaning. Why won't you take me home? I can't stand this anymore." Your words were jumbled, your tears and sobs ripped through me, leaving me exposed with tears streaming down my cheeks.

We sit, side by side, shivering with tears and
distress. Confusion straps you in a roller coaster of delusions, magnificent and erratic. And all I can do is comfort you as coherent thoughts fade in and out and you try with all your might to remember, try to reshuffle the cards, spilling them like cards, falling flailing all over the floor; and one by one, your words are gone, your thought a fading memory. Rage follows, intruding in your attempts to remember, then anguish over broken brain circuits, broken dreams, and dead ends.


We have just attended Jack's high school graduation. The crowds made you feel unsafe, lost. You clung to your dad and to me, trying to remember why we were in the gymnasium with people, so many people. Trying to help you find your son, recognize your son, track as your son receives his diploma. You try, and the lights leave your eyes as the fog of this dementia once again forms a wall between you and your life.

You calm, and fall asleep. I continue to weep silently, thinking about the good times, all the dreams we hoped for.  Holding your hand, I watch you sleep, praying for peace but watching you struggle and cry out, "no, no." hands flying in the air as you attempt to fight the dragons in your dreams.

I pray for you. I choke on life cheating you as going on with life, enjoying our boy, laughing, playing, soaking in the warm sun and watching the milky way for hours in the deep of the night. I am so grateful for my life. I am so sorry I can not fix this for you. I hold back bursts of emotions, riding right there on my shirt sleeve because I am afraid of those emotions. They represent a lifetime with you of good and bad. Sometimes they hold me back from healing.

I wish there was a manual for this. I really do. But for now I do the best that I can.