This morning she said, “Let’s go some place and have some fun.”  Further interaction confirmed that she meant some sort of major trip this summer.  As we talked, she said, probably nowhere high [in elevation].  We had begun arranging through friends the use of a condo in the mountains of Colorado a couple of years ago.  After consulting with the Cardiologist, it seemed unwise to tackle a high elevation, putting stress on Mary Ann’s heart.

In the movies, a bucket list makes all the sense in the world.  Who could argue with doing anything and everything you have wanted to do before dying when death seems to be coming in the near term?  In the movies, whatever stands in the way can just be written out of the story line.

The dilemma in deciding what to do in response to the request for a major trip for fun, is that there are conflicting realities.  Each has validity.  One reality is Mary Ann’s view that is no longer reasoned through the executive function of her brain.  To her, the fainting, bathroom issues, problems with eating, falling, sleep problems, access to appropriate medical care, all are of little or no consequence.  She lives in a world in which she is constantly protected by those of us around her, taking care of whatever problems arise.  In that reality, there are no barriers to traveling wherever and whenever, just having fun doing all sorts of things.

There is validity in that view.  The various assessments of her physical/mental situation suggest that there may not be many years left to do all sorts of entertaining and enjoyable items on our wish list.  Assuming that is so, we need to get out and do anything and everything we can, as soon as possible.

The other reality is that we are on a roller coaster in which there is no telling if Mary Ann will be alert or completely out of it, whether she will be able to stay awake or will crash suddenly, whether she will be able to stand and transfer to the toilet stool or will crumple in a dead faint.  We don’t know if she will be able to eat or sleep or discern reality from hallucination/delusion/dream.  In the other reality, I am the one who has to figure out how to deal with whatever comes when it comes.  Not having the resources that are easily accessible here at home when problems come is a real issue.  This is not a movie.

The question is, how do we balance what is actually so in our little world with what we would like to be so.  My problem is determining how many of the barriers that I see are more my own concerns over what might happen rather than real barriers.  Now that we have made decisions associated with the transition to Hospice Care, the fear of not making it to a hospital in time may be unsettling, but it is no longer the primary issue.  We have already faced that demon and stolen its power.

I don’t want to stand in the way of Mary Ann having as good a quality of days as possible in these next months or years.  I also am not infinitely good and capable and strong and filled with limitless endurance for whatever may come.

In a recent thread of posts by members of the online group of Caregiving Spouses of those with forms of Lewy Body Dementia, there were some who talked about the struggle to do enough to provide adequate stimulation in their Loved Ones’ lives.  Some in that group have seen how others can draw the best out of their Loved Ones as they respond at a level referred to as “showtime.”  We have just come off three weeks of visits by friends and family.  Mary Ann has been at her best much of that time.  She has been engaged in conversation, she has laughed, she has connected and initiated interactions.  As Caregivers we want to provide that sort of quality all the time.

We can’t do it.  We can’t provide enough to compensate for their limitations.  Last night Mary Ann did not sleep well.  Today she made it through lunch, then crashed, fainting so much that she just had to lie down.  That was at about 12:30pm.  I tried to get her up two or three times, but it was 5:30pm or later before she got up.  We got some Dairy Queen, she came home and crashed again.  No matter how romantic it sounds to check off items on a bucket list, there are some parts of our reality that we can’t change.

For now, my intention is to think as creatively as possible about options for places that might be fun for Mary Ann.  I am willing to stretch beyond my comfort zone what we try to do.  She has mentioned the Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky as a possible destination in the past.

…I have just been “scared straight!”  My comments above about two realities have just ceased to be a balanced weighing of conflicting views.  I have spent the last hour (not sure, lost track of time) in an intense battle with active intestines, in a fainting, jerking stiff body, fighting against every move to try to keep what was coming out off clothes and into its designated receptacle.

Mary Ann is only 113.5 at last weigh-in, but it took every ounce of strength I have to try to manipulate her into position, hold her up while trying to clean her up, while she would stiffen in a sort of mild seizure, or go completely limp becoming dead weight, all happening while trying to take clothes off or put them on or wipe off her body where it had spread or the toilet seat so that it didn’t spread again when she fell back down on it in a faint.

This was about as tough a time as we have had with that activity.  I describe out loud the difficulty I am having and my frustration with it as it is happening.  That is part of my getting out what would be tougher to handle if I tried to keep it in.  A couple of times when she happened to be conscious she told me to calm down. My most frustrating moments are the times her body is fighting against what I am trying to do to get her seated so it will go where it should go.  Once, she even said I should put her some place, to which I immediately responded, “I am not putting you anywhere!”

I have now rinsed the matter off Mary Ann’s pajama tops and bottoms in fresh toilet water, put them in and started the washer.  I have washed my hands fifteen times.  Cleaned the stuff from under her fingernails, gotten her in clean clothes and into bed.  There was one aftershock that included the fainting and all the rest except (gratefully) for the “stuff.”  She is again in bed.  I have taken a couple of Ibuprofen to take the edge off the back and muscle pain from the physical exertion.

You have just had a peak into something that is routine in the lives of many Caregivers.  Others in the online group have to do what I just did but with someone who outweighs them by a hundred pounds.  I have no idea how they do it.

Mary Ann will be fine; I will be fine.  It is just another day on our roller coaster ride.  This encounter with one of our realities has certainly suggested that traveling a long way may not be a very good idea.  It is hard to imagine doing what I just did, but in a motel bathroom.  At the moment, our bucket has no room for a list, it is full of poop.  Tomorrow is another day!

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

This morning, Mary Ann asked Daughter Lisa how things were going in her marriage.  It was just the opportunity needed for Lisa to tell her in a natural and gentle way the truth that all is well.  The general wisdom is to go along with delusions/hallucinations when interacting with someone suffering from dementia.  We are using the truth in love approach. 

Maybe Lewy Body Dementia [LBD] is different enough from other expressions of dementia to warrant an approach different from the general wisdom.  Parkinson’s Disease Dementia [PDD]  is a dementia with Lewy bodies, and presents itself in a way that is almost identical to LBD.  Those who suffer from LBD or PDD live in the margin of reality.  There are forays into a world with little, sometimes no relationship with reality.  Those with LBD/PDD can return to lucidity in a moment or a day or seldom. 

It seems that since there is movement between reality and hallucination/dream/delusional perceptions, surrounding the person with the truth can help the person move back to the reality side of the margin between the two.  Mary Ann may move back to the hallucination/dream/delusional view of reality, but having the truth surrounding her seems to help. 

Just a few moments ago, when she was moving in bed, I went in to see what I could do to help.  She asked if the party was over.   In her mind, a large group of people had come in the door at the same time for a party celebrating the new sun room and remodeled deck.  It was Good Friday.  I went with it enough to ask if they liked it.  She said they did.  I asked her to include a request for donations to pay for it the next time there was such a gathering.  She laughed.  I described the truth to her.   There was no party, Lisa, Denis and I had just watched the NCAA basketball tournament final — a great game!

She seemed to accept that description of reality.  It just seems to me to be better to speak the truth in love to hallucinations/dreams/delusions.  It makes sense to me that the more truth in those of us around Mary Ann, the more secure she will feel, even though the truth runs counter to what she is convinced she has seen or heard.  It would be too hard to try to keep track of anything other than the truth. 

Mary Ann slept well last night.  She has napped some during the day.  In general, she seems to do better with hanging on to reality when she is well rested. 

Her nap time gave us a chance to continue a task that started yesterday when Daughter Lisa and Son Micah were here together.  We began going through boxes.  What a frightening task — overwhelming.  There are so many boxes of things, so many decisions to be made about what to keep and what to give away and what to throw away.

Daughter Lisa is now a professional in the area of organizing.  She has always been the most organized person I know.  Now she gets paid to do it.  Gratefully, she is not pushy about it.  I had to open the door to this task.  We carted boxes from the basement storage area to the garage and began going through them.  We brought Mary Ann out into the garage to look at the contents of some of the boxes.  She said her childhood was there when she looking into a large box of dolls, mostly disintegrated after being stored for so many decades. 

There are some complex dynamics to what we are doing, given the time in our life and Mary Ann’s circumstances.  There is an element of sending our things on their way to our Children and Grandchildren, since we are late in life and Mary Ann is so vulnerable.  Since Mary Ann lives as if death is not a part of her reality and my health is still good, we are not ready to let go of things that have a sentimental attachment.  Actually, Mary Ann is not very sentimental, so it is easier for her to pitch things. 

It is a good thing that our space is very limited in this little townhome, so we are forced to let go of things we might try to keep if we had more room.  Somehow the combination of the need to move out a full cabinet due to the addition of the sun room, Mary Ann’s decline in these last few months, my retirement, and just the weight of what we have accumulated has pushed me over the edge of procrastination and into the throes of purging. 

At the moment, we are making some progress.  The task is huge.  I am hoping now that we have started, to keep momentum going even after Lisa and her family have headed back home.  It is much harder to get motivated on my own, and to make enough progress when Mary Ann is awake and in need of my help. 

Tomorrow we plan to continue the task.  I hope it is a productive day.

It has been a very long time since there was so much fainting in one day.   Anyone who is not okay with explicit talk about BM’s should probably pass on this post.  I was grateful for a three or four hour nap in the middle of the day and more grateful when the ordeal was over this evening and bedtime arrived.

I am a seasoned veteran in what I call waste management.  It is just part of helping someone who no longer can handle those duties on her own.  I am used to the fainting spells.  They no longer scare me.  It is when the two intertwine for all the hours she is awake that it calls into question my physical capacity to do this task.

I am not grossed out by it.  I am not pushed to a high level of frustration by it.  I am just tired and sore, grateful for a break from it now that she is in bed.  Yesterday, I mentioned that Mary Ann’s blood pressure was a very low normal when the Hospice Nurse took it.  I observed that resting blood pressure that low did not bode well for what might be so when she stands up for a while.

I meant to take her BP this morning, but did not remember to do so.  As a result, I am not sure yet about whether or not to start the Midodrine, which raises her BP and reduces the fainting but keeps her BP dangerously high.

Mary Ann got up fairly late today.  It was apparent from the morning trip to the bathroom that the fainting was a problem.  We managed to get her breakfast done.  Then the bathroom trips began.  She felt that she needed to go, but there was little production.  Each time she got on the stool, she fainted.  Each time she stood up from it she fainted.  My role, as I have mentioned before, is to hold her upper body back so that she does not fall forward off the stool.

She was fainting so much that she couldn’t even sit up in her chair when I got her back out into the living room.  I just took her into the bedroom and got her into bed.  She slept for three or four hours.

After she got up, I fed her lunch and the bathroom trips began in earnest.  There was more production during the afternoon.  Once down there would be a some activity.  Then I would pull her up, hold her up and do clean up, almost always including (sorry) getting out some that would not come on its own.  Then as that was going on, she would faint again.  Trying to get her into the sitting position when she is only partially conscious and holding herself stiff, takes all the strength I can muster.  The torso has some pretty powerful muscles.

Each time we went in, there would two or three repeats of that same pattern with occasionally a few minutes of just sitting there holding herself up. During those times, I stayed close to her so that I could get there immediately when she popped up.

Most of the next couple of hours contained those trips, each about the same in terms of my role.  When Mary Ann was not in the bathroom, she was in pop up mode.  She has absolutely no awareness of the risks of getting up no matter how often she faints or how much I remind her not to get up without my helping.  At one point, I had to click the seat belt on her transfer chair to slow her popping up so that I could finish folding the clothes from the dryer.

What I have described above is a very normal activity for Caregivers of those with Lewy Body Dementia.  I can hardly complain.  Others have a far more difficult time than do I.  I write in such detail first of all for selfish reasons.  It helps me to put into words and sort of “get off my chest” just how difficult a day can be.  I hope that the detail also provides a point of contact for those who are experiencing the very same thing but have no one to talk with about it.

I also hope that those of you who have friends or family or acquaintances who are caring for someone, will realize what they are going through and cut them a little slack.  If they are whining, they are doing so for good reason.  You don’t have to try to fix their situation, just listen patiently without immediately changing the subject to something that is going on in your life or tell them about all the other people who have it worse than they do.

Tonight, I am wondering if there is a direct correlation between the low blood pressure fainting issue and Mary Ann’s ability to keep on track mentally.  Shortly before going to bed, she stood up and called me over.  I asked what she was doing.  She seemed distressed and said she was leaning against a wall.  Her eyes were open, not slammed shut as happens sometimes.  She was in the middle of the living room, in front of the television.  When I said there was no wall, she responded, “Did they take it down?” (Probably a memory of the removal of walls in during the sun room construction.)

Moments later in the bedroom, she asked what day it was.  I answered, “Saturday.”  Then she asked me if I was preaching tomorrow.  I asked her when the last time I preached was.  She said, “Last Sunday.”  I asked her if she remembered that I had retired almost two years ago and had not preached since.  She just looked puzzled.

While she does get confused and have delusions and hallucinations and dreams that she cannot tell from reality, those interactions tonight, seemed a little extra odd.  That raised in my mind the question of the impact of so many times today that her blood pressure was too low to keep an adequate supply of blood flowing to her brain.  I am wondering what sort of cumulative effect that has.  If that is the case, it complicates the current decision not to give Mary Ann the Midodrine that raises her BP to harmful level.  There is nothing easy about dealing with this combination of diseases and debilities.

f you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

“My supper is gone!”  Since she had not been eating for a while, I asked her if she was done.  Almost all the leftover Quiche from lunch was still there.  The fruit had not been touched.  She said her food was gone.  I turned the plate, pointed to the Quiche sitting there and asked if she saw it.  She said she did.

We had ended up at McFarland’s Restaurant for lunch because of the awkward fit of the retired pastor in the life of the parish from which he retired.  We attended the funeral of one of the people I respected most over the years.  Ann was 93.  Just imagine what she had seen in those 93 years.  In our tradition we do not canonize saints.  If we did, Ann would be one!  She and husband Maury, who died about ten years ago, had helped found the congregation in the late nineteen forties.  I remember a few visits with both of them at their home after I first arrived in the parish in 1996.  Ann was doing with Maury what I am now doing with Mary Ann.  She was doing it with much more grace and humble acceptance than I have demonstrated.  While wishing to spend time talking with the family and close friends, I was not comfortable inviting myself and Mary Ann to the meal provided for them.  With a little more of that gut grieving going on, we headed to McFarland’s for lunch.  I keep wondering how much of this sort of grieving the Pastor I followed suffered in silence without my ever knowing it.  Thinking about that helps me put into perspective what is just part of this step in the journey.  It also surfaces some guilt that I was not more sensitive to his place in life at that time.

The most exciting event that wound some joy and anticipation into that same gut was the gift of the most effective anti-depressant of which I am aware, Lori’s home made chocolate chip cookies — a huge container of dozens of them.  Lori’s thoughtfulness will provide some pleasure for days to come — actually longer if I get some into the freezer before we devour them all.

At McFarland’s Mary Ann worked on the Quiche she had ordered for a full hour after the food arrived at the table.  I offered to help in one way or another at various times, trying not to make her feel as if I was rushing her.  She would not accept any help.  She struggled to get pieces on the fork that were secure enough not to fall off on the way to her mouth.  Toward the end of the meal she did allow me to cut a large piece of watermelon that accompanied the Quiche into smaller pieces.

After that hour, she had eaten about 30% (at the most) of the Quiche and one small piece of the melon, none of the rest of the fruit on the plate.  Of course people had come and gone all around us.  The folks who sometimes come, eat, and play bridge were starting to play at the table next to us.

I left the tip, got Mary Ann into the wheel chair, gathered the take home container and her purse together so that we could pay the bill and head to the car.  When I put the check and the twenty dollar bill on the  counter in front of Walt McFarland, the Owner, he just wished us a Happy New Year and did not pick up the twenty.  He said it was on him.  It is surprising how powerful kind gestures can be when a person is stressed and struggling.  He carried our containers out to the car and opened the doors for us on the way there.  Mary Ann just can’t negotiate styrofoam containers without crushing them or losing them off her lap (understandably) as the chair moves.  As a result, I have the challenge of holding the styrofoam containers (leftover meal and left over Coke in a takeout cup), pushing and steering the wheel chair, getting the doors open and holding them open so that we can get out.  Walt is a good guy!

Mary Ann started trying to get up this morning at 4am.  Between then and about 8:30am there were the usual snacks, little plastic containers of applesauce and tapioca pudding, some commode trips, some arguing about my need for her to stay in bed so that I could accumulate enough sleep between tasks to function during the day.  When we got up, she was determined to make sure we got ready in time to attend the funeral.  She was alert about many things at that point, except that there were things she could not do by herself.  After getting her usual yogurt and cereal to eat with her pills, I wanted her to sit securely in her chair while I showered and dressed. She could not sit.  She was too determined to get ready to go.  She said I could take my shower while she got dressed.  She hasn’t been able to get dressed by herself in a number of years.  I got her completely ready to go, and finally she was willing to stay seated long enough for me to get ready.  We had plenty of time.  We were ready almost an hour before we needed to leave.  By the time we left, she had sort of shut down mentally and physically.  We were able to get to the funeral, but not without much difficulty.

When we got home after the meal, she was not tracking well.  I asked her if she needed to use the bathroom; she said yes.  I was trying to tranfer her from the chair to the toilet stool, and as she was standing up, she began reaching forward and down. I asked her what she was doing.  With a very irritated tone that I could not see what was so obvious to her, she said she was washing her hands.  I don’t remember what I said, but I managed to get her seated and afterward get her to the bed for a long nap.  Just before she awoke, I had opened and shut the front door, leading her to decide that she had missed Zach and Erin coming by with there new baby.  She had been dreaming and, as she admitted at that point, she can’t tell the difference between dreams and reality.  Later this evening she told me that she had just seen me smoking a cigarette.  Other than a few days in college almost fifty years ago, I have never smoked cigarettes.

This has been and continues to be and interesting time in our journey.  There seems to be some transitioning going on for both Mary Ann and me.  I am not sure to where we are transitioning, but I guess we will figure that out as time goes by.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

I just forgot!  I actually forgot about the Christmas tree.  I am a Pastor, how could that happen?  It is not that I forgot about Christmas.  I just forgot about the tree business.

Up until yesterday, the thought had not crossed my mind that there was something missing in our plans for Christmas.  We have been shopping.  Plans are made for the family gathering and celebrating Christmas on Sunday, the 20th, since that is really the only convenient time for our crew to get together.  (I have absolutely no idea what we will eat that day.)

I have even done the massive decorating of the outside of the house.  The decorations are unbelievably dramatic and terribly time-consuming to put up.  I will give you the details of how the decorating of the outside of our house is done.  First I open the garage door.  Then I walk over to the shelves in the garage and take down a box.  From that box I retrieve two artificial wreaths, each with a red bow on the bottom.  I take the wreaths outside and gently place one around each of the sconces on either side of the garage door.  What an undertaking!!! I am exhausted just thinking about it.

I feel like Pastor Scrooge when I drive through the neighborhoods to look at all the outdoor lights decorating houses and yards and then drive up to our house afterward.  Mary Ann would have loved having outdoor lights.  I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.  It is not some sort of theological statement about the real meaning of Christmas versus the decorations.  I am fine with people doing whatever brings them joy as they celebrate the holiday season.

I suspect that part of the reason I have not gotten into much in the way of elaborate Christmas Decorations is that before I retired, this was pretty much the single most demanding time of the year.  Admittedly, Holy Week and Easter are up there with it.  I was so focused on work, and so overwhelmed with all the preparations that I could not muster the motivation to carve out time for decorating the house.  Some of it is that I am far too easily frustrated when trying to take on new tasks and figure out what to do and how to do it.  I needed no added stress at such a busy time.

I don’t really know what other pastors do.  I suspect we are as varied as the general population in the area of decorating the house for the holidays.

We did always put up a tree and do some indoor decorating.  Mary Ann saw to that.  She did not say anything about the tree this year, and I just didn’t think of it.  Now in case someone reading this is getting depressed for us about the tree and indoor decorations.  Now that I remembered, the tree is up.  It has no lights or decorations yet, but it is up.  There are a few things on the mantle.

I have to admit that the motivation for getting the tree up is the fact that our Children and Grandchildren will be here next Sunday.  I suspect they would all be bummed if there were no tree.  Having talked with other folks our age and older, it seems that I am not alone in the lack of interest in putting up the tree.  Mary Ann, on the other hand, would probably not tolerate going through the Christmas season with no tree.  She has always loved the lights and ornaments.  Many years ago we put tinsel on the tree each year.  We had the classic difference in technique.  I would meticulously lay each strand of tinsel over the branches, and Mary Ann would toss handfuls of tinsel on to the tree.  It is a marvel we will be married 44years on Friday.

Mary Ann’s day today included a lot of sleep.  We both slept in.  It was about 10am before we woke (other than the commode trips). I got her dressed, gave her pills and breakfast.  There was an urgent trip to the bathroom, including a couple of substantial fainting spells.  Then when I took her out to the Living Room, she asked to turn around and go back to the bedroom to lie down.  She napped for a couple of hours.

This afternoon after she got up and ate a sandwich, I got the tree up from downstairs.  Then all of a sudden, she got up and headed off.  When I asked where she was going, she said to the kitchen to make something.  I became frustrated with the fact that I was mid stream in getting the tree up, and her actions were demanding that I stop, leave the tree parts in the box on the Living Room floor and help her in the kitchen. I insisted that she give me time at least to put the tree together and get the box out of the Living Room.  I had already moved the furniture to accommodate the tree in our small town home.

As soon as she said that she was going to go to the kitchen to make something, I knew what it was.  The last time we were at the grocery, Mary Ann insisted on getting some of what we have come to call “Lisa’s Cereal.”  In fact we phoned Daughter Lisa while standing in the cereal aisle at the store.  We disagreed on what cereal it was.  We bought two boxes of Quaker Oats Squares.  There is a wonderful pecan crunch made with the cereal, pecans, brown sugar, butter, Karo syrup, vanilla and baking soda.

After the tree was put together, we headed into the kitchen and made the pecan crunch.  Mary Ann sat at the little ice cream table that resides in the kitchen eating area, while I followed the recipe, without ad libbing, and prepared that decadent and very tasty snack.

After church tonight, we picked up some food that Mary had prepared for us, Lavonna’s beans, a couple of containers of spaghetti, and Mary Ann’s favorite green Jello with cool whip and cottage cheese.

Mary Ann is in bed, but the signs are that this will not be a good night for sleep.  I hope I am wrong about that.

Who knew there was a word for it?  The online caregiving spouses of those with Lewy Body Dementia (or some form of it) recently contained a line of posts titled Anosognosia.  Wikipedia defines it this way: Anosognosia is a condition in which a person who suffers disability seems unaware of or denies the existence of his or her disability.

Actually, those who have been reading this blog for very long, have heard me describe a variety of behaviors that could be described with the word Anosgnosia. 

When anyone asks Mary Ann about cooking, her response is always: “They won’t let me in the kitchen any more.”  What she seems to be saying is that she could cook and chop and handle hot pans and sharp knives and prepare meals, if only we (I) would let her. 

Mary Ann will often start to undress while standing up, even though for a number of years now, her balance and coordination have not allowed her to do so without falling. 

She has headed into the bedroom to get sewing paraphernalia to do repair work, most often on something that ends up being a hallucination. 

While I sometimes do it, I dislike reminding her that what she is attempting  is something she can no longer do on account of the Parkinson’s.  I think the better choice when confronting some attempt at doing something no longer within her capability, is to redirect her attention to something else. 

As troublesome as are the times she acts as if she has no limitations on account of the Parkinson’s, I can’t help wondering if they are not part of the reason she is doing so well.  As much as she has been through, it is hard to understand how she is able to do maintain such a high level of functionality in so many areas. 

Today went pretty well.  She slept in late, essentially tacking her morning nap on to the end of her night’s sleep.  She had a good breakfast, a fairly substantial lunch.  We went out for a ride to Ensley Gardens (I walked through them while she chose to stay in the car) and a treat at the Baskin and Robbin’s on the other side of town. 

Mary came over, brought the promised pork, dressing and gravy, and spent about an hour talking with Mary Ann while I worked at the computer.   Since I tend to be quick to respond in conversation, my presence makes it hard for Mary Ann to be engaged in conversation.  My leaving the room for a time allows her to interact more freely with friends. 

Again, she has gone to bed early, without supper.  I guess by now I should know that a mid to late afternoon ice cream treat is going to interfere with her eating supper.  I suspect she will be up to have snacks during the night.  I will, of course, need to assist in that activity. 

The last couple of afternoons (before today), I have left the house for a time while a friend spent time with Mary Ann.  I have spent the time in a different way from usual.  Rather than sitting in the car in some natural setting to read or listen to music, or going for a walk, I have visited a number of small art galleries here.  I am pretty much devoid of any knowledge in the area of the visual arts, but I am intrigued by them. 

At most of the stops at galleries, there has been a docent or artist or owner there who was willing to spend some time in conversation.  I have learned a bit about the art scene here, and how some of the artists have approached their subjects, what processes they have used.  It has been very interesting, opening a new window on reality for these well-worn eyes. 

The conversations have nourished a discovery I made decades ago.  There is more than what first meets the eye in most of what we see.  Whether it is a landscape, a city street, buildings, trash, telephone poles, growing plants in any stage, people, there are many ways to see them.  What artists often do is provide new ways to see the ordinary.  While I have no natural ability or inclinations in producing visual art pieces, my interest has been piqued. 

One of the artists described her fascination with shadows on the water in a pond or stream or lake.  The shaded area of the water’s surface reveals what lies beneath the surface.  Lighted areas show a reflection of what is above.  It is a phenomenon I have noticed when out walking with my binoculars around my neck.  Often I will look for those shaded areas to see if I can locate fish or turtles or frogs. 

In a couple of the visits yesterday and the day before, the descriptions of a particular art piece triggered the impulse to write and preach a sermon using the piece as a visual aid.  I had enough sense to spare the poor person describing the work from my launching into three part homily on the implications of that piece for their spiritual growth. 

One of the artists described her fascination with shadows on the water in a pond or stream or lake.  The shaded area of the water’s surface reveals what lies beneath the surface.  Lighted areas show a reflection of what is above.  It is a phenomenon I have noticed when out walking with my binoculars around my neck.  Often I will look for those shaded areas to see if I can spot fish or turtles or frogs.   That thought caused my sermon muscles to twitch for a moment. 

Maybe I can convince Mary Ann to consent to a trip into KC to the Nelson again.  There are rooms filled with art pieces, some incomprehensible, some boring (in the eyes of the beholder — me), some exciting, some very thought provoking.  They also serve a great lunch in the Roselle Court.  We will see.

After such a tough time post hospital stay, this one has been a pretty good week. 

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Could our timing have been worse??  I think not.  We rolled up the sidewalk just in time for the pastor to open the doors for the pallbearers, readying themselves to carry the casket to the coach. The family was lining up behind the casket.

We just scooted in the open door, past the pall bearers and the family to the other side of the lobby as the funeral home staff ushered out of the Nave of the church those who had come to attend the funeral.  It was the epitome of bad manners.  Sometimes it is not better late than never!

Actually, I pretty much expected that we would embarrass ourselves when we left the house.  The funeral was at 10am.  We left the house at 10:20am with about a ten minute drive to church, depending on the stoplights.  Mary Ann had to take some medicine before we headed toward the door.

The decision was either to embarrass ourselves by arriving at the end of the funeral, or not going.  Mary Ann’s bath aide has a schedule of clients to see each day she works.  It is not a simple matter to just ask that she come earlier, throwing all her other clients off their schedules.

When there is a chronic illness like Parkinson’s that has entered the family, there are consequences.  Among them is the loss of the ability to make and keep plans, to accommodate to external demands.  The disease often rules the schedule.

Having served as Pastor of the congregation for over twelve years, I had known the deceased and family for a long time.  There had been some very challenging times in the family’s story during those years.  I was involved in that story.  This was a chance to see some of the family who had come from very far away.  I could have written a note explaining why we couldn’t make the funeral.  That just did not seem okay to me.  Charlotte had served as a Volunteer with Mary Ann, I had confirmed some of the grandchildren.  I had done a couple of weddings for the family.  The connection seemed too strong to accept that we couldn’t get to the funeral.

I decided that in spite of behaving badly by coming in at the end of the funeral, and the embarrassment that would come with it (embarrassment is a most hated enemy to me), I would not give up the chance to have a few minutes with members of the family.

We had had some practice with this sort of embarrassment when we decided some time ago to go to a morning worship service instead of the evening service. That Sunday morning we arrive in plenty of time to attend the 11:30am service.  The service, of course, is and always has been at 11am.  We had to roll past a group of folks standing on the sidewalk by the door to church.  They had gone to an earlier service and were just socializing as they were heading to the parking lot.  Again, I knew we would be late, but I wanted to hear a newly commissioned Deacon preach (he was great!).  We had a commitment that evening that would not allow us to attend the evening service.

Chronic illness has consequences in day to day life.  Sometimes embarrassment is one of them.  As I have mentioned before, eating in a restaurant often provides opportunity for embarrassment as food often ends up where it is not intended to go.  Using public bathrooms always provides opportunity for embarrassment as I have to find someone to watch the door of the women’s restroom while I help Mary Ann, fearing all the while that someone will come charging in, horrified to see a man in the women’s restroom.

One of my personal challenges is to refuse to give my hatred of being embarrassed the power to control our choices.  We need to be out with people.  One thing our circumstances have taught me is to be less judgmental of others.  Who knows what they are going through, when they do things that seem to be in bad taste or thoughtless or inappropriate? Who knows what they are going through?

Embarrassed?  Yes!  But we’ll live.

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It just sounds like complaining, endless whining.  Caregivers are often very boring conversationalists.  Someone says, “Hello, how are you?”  Caregiver responds, “I was up fifteen times last night and eight times the night before.  We slept late in this morning, but I can’t concentrate enough to read anything more than the captions on pictures.  Simple tasks seem overwhelming, and by the way, what is your name, and what is it that you just asked me?”

Last night was a moderately restless night for Mary Ann.  We were up maybe once in each hour during the night for one thing or another.  That pattern is more bearable than the really restless nights when it is multiple times throughout the night.  She got up early this morning, but napped for a couple of hours. It just doesn’t seem to work for me to try to turn on the napping switch and sleep whenever she takes a nap during the day.  Anyway, I relish the time to do the things I can’t do when she is awake and in need of help.

The truth is, there is no way to communicate to anyone who isn’t in the same circumstances just how hard it is to get pretty much of anything done when the sleep patterns are completely erratic, with no ability to plan when there will be sleep and when there won’t be sleep.

While I was on the retreat in Oklahoma, our Daughter Lisa stayed with Mary Ann.  The first of the two nights, Mary Ann was very restless, and Lisa didn’t get much sleep.  Mary Ann was up early as she usually is after a restless night .  The next night, they both slept like a rock and slept late into the morning.  When we talked after I returned, it was apparent that she had a sense of what it is like to have the kind of erratic sleep patterns that are our normal experience.  She, of course has two young children and knows what is it like to have difficult nights and little sleep.

It is just nice to have someone in the circle of support who understands how hard it is to plan and do anything when there is no sleep pattern.  One of the reasons that I enjoy the trip to the Spiritual Renewal Center is that the many hours of uninterrupted sleep seem to return my ability to read and understand what I am reading.  I can’t say that I have read any of the book on Quantum Physics and Theology other than on the Oklahoma Retreats.  I often feel embarrassed at how little I manage to get done each day, and how poor my memory has become.  I am hoping that both are a function of the sleep patterns rather than the disintegration of my brain.

One of the problems the lack of sleep increases in Mary Ann is the intensity of the hallucinations.  I have mentioned that often before.  Today, she got up and headed toward the bedroom.  I asked what she was doing.  She was reluctant to tell me, probably not wanting to hear my opinion on whether or not she should be trying to do what she was planning.  She was going in so that she could sew a button on.  I don’t know what button needed to be sewn on to what.  She had just asked me to help her take off a corduroy shirt of mine that she uses as a warm layer to wear when she is cold.  After I took it off, she hung on to it, rather than letting me put it on the railing post, as usual.  I inferred that she had in her mind that there was a button that needed sewing back on that shirt.  There were no buttons missing.

I did not interfere with her plan.  I decided I would only intervene if she ended up with a needle in her hand and was hurting herself.  I stayed out of the bedroom as much as possible while she got out some balls of thread (probably more for cross stitching or something like that) and handled them for a while. I never saw a needle in her hand.  I just waited it out, helping a little when the thread on a couple of the balls got tangled.

I still don’t know exactly what was in her mind, nor do I know what went through her mind as she finally put the balls of thread back into the drawer and gave up on the plan.  I do know that it is painful to watch her confront the losses she has been suffering for so many years. The losses have been going on for twenty-two years in one way or another, sometimes more slowly than at other times.  Today was one of the times the contrast was especially obvious between the skilled sewing (made our first drapes, has made many quilts) she has done in the past and the inability to so much as get a needle, the thread and sew on a button — as well as the confusion about what was or was not there needing the sewing.

While I am busy complaining about the frustrating sleep patterns, she is busy trying to survive the loss of so much of what brought her joy and satisfaction throughout her life.  I guess I just need to finish this and get to bed so that I will have less to complain about.  So far tonight she has stayed asleep.  We will see how the rest of the night goes.

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Last night when sharing our history with our hosts at dinner, the look back opened a process that has continued today.  I asked Mary Ann if she was comfortable or uncomfortable with the conversation last evening.  The questions of her were direct and personal.  She said that she did feel comfortable. 

As I mentioned in last night’s post, Mary Ann was candid about her feelings.  She was clear that she was not resentful toward God for her situation, but she was resentful toward me for moving the family from what had been home for fifteen years.   

When we moved from Kansas City to Oklahoma City, I moved five months sooner than Mary Ann and the kids.  They needed to finish school (Lisa, her Senior Year in high School and Micah, his Eighth Grade year at a Kindergarten through 8th Grade school).   

It was shortly after I moved to OKC that Mary Ann phoned from Kansas City with the news that she had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s.  Her memory of the move is colored by the pain of that diagnosis, having to deal with her feelings without my presence for support.  She had the whole load of the family while trying to process that news. 

What, in my estimation, made it more painful was that Mary Ann was adamant about keeping the diagnosis a secret.  That secret was kept through the move and on into our new life in OKC for a full five years. 

With little stamina for involvement with others since she also worked part time at first and then close to full time for the last six of our nine years there, it was hard for her to develop close friendships from which she could draw support. 

It was during that time that we experienced very poor medical care from Neurologists who had little knowledge of Parkinson’s other than the very basic medication addressing only the motor symptoms.  Since she has the early onset variety, there are more complexities than presented when it is diagnosed later in life. 

We managed to get to the annual Parkinson’s Symposium at the University of Kansas Medical Center most years while we were in OKC.  As a result, we had access to the latest and best information on Parkonson’s Disease and its treatment.  We seemed to have more information than any of the Neurologists to whom Mary Ann went during those nine years in OKC.  One Neurologist had little to say in each appointment (ten minutes, sitting across from us at his desk).  He seemed mostly to be asking us how often we thought we should be taking the one basic medicine.  The next Neurologist questioned whether or not Mary Ann had Parkinson’s and concluded that the fact that the medication for Parkinson’s seemed to be working was all in her head.  He made the gesture folks use to indicate that someone is crazy.  Then at the end of the nine years, Mary Ann was hospitalized in Tulsa in a new Parkinson’s program.  The point of the stay was to work out the medicine regimen.  The staff administering the medication missed the timing of doses, the Neurologist dismissed a basic concern for timing the medicine away from meals high in protein (regularly reaffirmed in the literature and the presentations at the Parkinson’s Symposia).  Mary Ann ended up with a complex combination of regular and timed release versions of the one basic medicine.  The new regimen simply did not work.  She became very debilitated quickly. 

It was at that time that the move to the parish here in Kansas came.  Mary Ann commented last evening that the move back to Kansas, even though not back to Kansas City itself felt good to her.  She liked being close again to our friends in Kansas City.  Mary Ann is not the sentimental sort.  For her to say that was a very significant affirmation of that friendship. 

When we moved to here, Mary Ann went to KU Med Center and some of her best years followed.  She was willing to be open about the diagnosis.  The latest of the medications that help the basic one work more effectively worked well at controlling her symptoms.  She did not work any longer and had time to get to know people here.  When finally the Volunteers were needed and began coming, friendships grew at a rapid rate, many of them. 

As I look back, I suspect that Mary Ann’s resentment of me for taking her from KC was more a function of the struggle with Parkinson’s than anything else.  The people in OKC were as warm and loving and accepting as anyone could have hoped for.  Through my ministry, I developed some of the most meaningful relationships I have ever had and still cherish them.  Busyness while doing full time ministry here did not allow for much contact, but the feelings remain.  Mary Ann and I did spend some time together with other couples in the OKC congregation whose friendship we valued very much.  We remember them fondly even though circumstances have not allowed interactions since then. 

It continues to seem that since retiring, past relationships, those that have a long history are coming into focus to a greater extent than while I was busy with the day to day challenges of ministry.   I suppose it is mostly the obvious, that there is more time to think about the past.  I am sure it is also a way of filling the validation gap created by having days empty of the multiple tasks with potential for external affirmation, measureable successes and failures.  It is a time to process the impact of relationships, as well as look through the layers of meaning to be found in past experiences. 

It is clear that Mary Ann’s assessment of the journey and my assessment are much different.  Mary Ann has the Parkinson’s, I see it and live in close proximity to it.  She more than I, but we are both impacted by the consequences of the Disease.  However our experiences of it differ, we are living through it together, one day at a time.   

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It has just turned into an impossibly frustrating night.  Mary Ann is in hallucination mode.  We were on hands and knees with her face within inches of one of the wheels on a leg of the bed, and she said, there it is, the baby raccoon.  Not long before that, she told me a raccoon had “taken a dump” on the sheet at the foot of the bed, and asked me to clean it up.  It took a long time of looking at that sheet for her to accept that the poop was no longer there, although since then she has not allowed me to pull the sheet up over her.  For the last half hour she has been picking up needles with thread in them from the floor.  I turned on the overhead light with four 60watt bulbs burning brightly and put her glasses on her face so that she could see clearly what was and was not there.  She still kept picking up the needles fearful that someone would get them stuck in a foot.  

I am now at the computer looking at her on the video monitor as she is leaning over the side of the bed busily trying to pick up things from the floor.  I am helpless to do anything about it!  I can only hope that at some point she will get tired enough that she will lie down and go to sleep.   She went to bed at about 9:30pm, it is now 11:30pm.  This could go on for hours. 

Tonight there was a Volunteer here with Mary Ann so that I could be at the computer attending an online Webinar provided by the Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP) online support group.  PSP is in a family of diseases that overlaps with Lewy Body Dementia (LBD).   Parkinson’s Disease Dementia (PDD) is a Dementia with Lewy Bodies. 

While the specifics of PSP are somewhat different from PDD, the Caregiving dynamics are pretty much the same.  The primary presenter tonight was Janet Edmunson, whose husband, Charles, was diagnosed with PSP.  After he died, the autopsy revealed that a more accurate diagnosis was Cortical Basal Ganglionic Degeneration (CBGD) which is another in the family. 

One of the characteristics of PSP that she mentioned certainly rang true for Mary Ann (who is now up and at it again in the bedroom).  She called it impulsivity.  That means the person remaining convinced that he/she can still do things he/she is no longer able to do. 

I just made another trip into the bedroom to see if I could do anything to help her settle.  This time as I was trying to get her back into bed, she told me that she was cold and wanted to go home.  When I asked her where she was, she didn’t know, just that she was cold and this wasn’t home.  I asked her to lie down for a while under the covers so that I could finish writing and come to bed.  As she was starting to lie down, Mary Ann commented that the girl was going to fall on her head, but then the girl didn’t.  When I asked who it was, she said, Lisa (our Daughter).  When I asked where Lisa was, she said she was on the wall.  When I asked her if it was the real Lisa or a picture, Mary Ann said something about “the pick of the litter.”  She did recognize when she said that that it made no sense. 

Back to the Webinar.  Janet Edmunson listed some suggestions for Caregivers. 

  • Determine what you are passionate about and find a way to spend at least a little time regularly, keeping it in your life.
  • Explore life’s adventures, store up memories while you and your Loved One are able. 
  • Give yourself credit, affirming just how strong you have been even when pushed to the limits.  She quoted Eleanor Roosevelt’s comparing people to tea — we don’t know how strong we are until we are in hot water.
  • Give yourself grace (forgive yourself) when you blow it.  If you seem to be “blowing it” extremely often, get help. 
  • Accept that some friends will no longer visit, especially when your Loved One can no longer communicate.  It doesn’t mean they no longer care.  Suggest that they come in pairs so that they can talk with each other as your Loved One simply listens. 
  • The personality changes in your Loved One are not your Loved One, but the disease.  One of the consequences of the disease is that the filter, the value system, gets eroded. 
  • Consider using Hospice sooner rather than later.
  • It is normal to grieve even before your Loved One dies.
  • Look for gifts that only this type of tragedy can afford.

She concluded with this wish for Caregivers: May this make you better, not bitter. 

Well, I think I had better get into the bedroom and see if my going to bed helps any.  Her head has stayed still for the last few minutes.  By the way, when she was first getting into bed tonight, for some reason she asked me to take her blood pressure.  It was 110/70.  Can’t ask for better than that.  Her pulse is usually 60 or less, but this time it was 89.  I suspect the excitement of the hallucinations may have increase her heart rate.

It is now 12:30am.  Here is hoping and praying that she can stay settled for the night. 

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