March 14, 2010

When to Worry

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Family, Help from Others, Hospice, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Sources of Strength, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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“The Doctor who treats himself has a fool for a patient.” Not only do some who read my posts show love and concern and words of compassion and support, some of you are also worried about how I am doing.  You may very well suspect that I am trying to treat myself spiritually and mentally, against which the above aphorism warns.

You may not change your mind after I have described what leads me to feel secure and healthy in the midst of dealing with so much over which I have no control.  I hope you catch sight of some of what keeps me grounded spiritually and mentally.  I will also share with you some things to watch for that might be symptomatic of losing my bearings.  What I will share is not just about me but anyone who is in a role like mine, or struggling in any way with things over which they have no control.

Last nights post was a window into the specifics of one of our challenges.  I have chosen to write in great detail what we are going through and my feelings about it.  I do so for a number of reasons.  One is that I think it is more interesting, and brings to life what we are experiencing in a way that is accessible to someone who doesn’t have direct experience with whatever it is.

I write in such detail the struggles we are going through and my feelings about them so that readers who are in this kind of role will be reassured that they are not alone in their frustrations.  Somehow it is a little easier to endure seemingly impossible situations when it is clear that there are others doing so.

I write in such detail, including feelings of helplessness as options seem to narrow and the boundary of the ability to cope comes into view. so that those who happen not have been there can catch sight of that place.  That goal is to encourage all of us to look each other with a level of compassion, realizing that the people we know, many of them, may be in the throes of some sort of personal battle, suffering in silence.

I am not silent.  One of the purposes of sharing all the gory details of our journey is that it helps me not to be silent.  I have been using all of you who read these purposes as a collective therapist.  You listen.  No one can go through another’s pain and experience it for them.  Each of us has to survive our own pain.  Many of us like doing so in a community.  You are my community.  The Volunteers are my community.  Friends and family are my community.  I am also part of your community.  One of the greatest joys in the ministry has been listening to and talking with others, maybe some of you, when you have been dealing with things over which you had no control.  I can only hope that the time we spent together helped.

When I write, I seek to be straight with you.  I have chosen, wisely or unwisely, to forgo any pretense that because I am a Pastor I am always pure and holy and strong and capable and wise and completely in control mentally and spiritually.  The tradition of which I am a part is about the Grace of God.  That means I believe that I am loved and forgiven just the way I come, ugliness and all.  I am not saddled with the hopeless task of becoming so wonderful and loving that I measure up to God’s expectations.  I need to be able to fail God and know that God will not fail me — even though it would be only fair for God to do so.  I don’t want a God that treats me with fairness.  I want a God who treats me with mercy.

Here is my assessment of how I am doing.  I think I am doing well.  I feel whole and full of life.  I hide very little from you as I write.  By doing so, it helps me see the reality of what we are going through here. It feels healthy to me to be able now to cry, to grieve, to express frustration, as well as describe the natural beauty that nurtures my spirit. I am free to feel the pain deeply because while it is very real, it does not have within it the power to destroy me.

Here is where the faith tradition of which I am a part frames my world view in specific terms.  I affirm that the One whose actions consummated the deal that has resulted in the Grace of God sustaining me and any who happen to recognize a need for it, has shown me how to live.  He loved people deeply, he knew how to party, he had compassion, he cried, he got angry, he got frustrated with others, he went off by himself to pray, he went to church, he felt pain, he felt overwhelmed, he cried out in desperation from the means of his execution, he faced death without pretense, went into it, through it all, and came out on the other side with life past any power to destroy it.

I feel utterly and completely secure in the love that surrounds me from the One who creates life in me every day, who has put his life on the line for me, whose Spirit nurtures my spirit.

In human terms, I have children and their spouses who listen to and support Mary Ann and me.  They will do anything in their power to be there for us.  I have Brothers and Sisters who care about us.  Every Wednesday morning four of us spend a couple of hours with Scripture and the reflections of others who have gone before us in the faith.  We talk about God’s participation in our lives moment by moment, day by day.  While not often enough, the interactions with friend John from Oklahoma have been exceedingly nurturing Spiritually.  At the moment he is leading a group on a mission trip to Guatemala.  Please keep him and his group in your prayers.  The times I spend in reading and meditation and solitude (deck time, listening to music, appreciating the beauty of nature) are pivotal in maintaining Spiritual and mental equilibrium.  The retreats to St. Francis of the Woods in Oklahoma are powerfully healing.

The online community of those caring for spouses with a form of Lewy Body Dementia has provided a place where complete understanding can be found.  There are many things that I would not say here in these posts that can be said openly in that group with utter and unconditional acceptance.  That group demystifies things that could have more power than they deserve. Reading those posts daily helps put our struggles in perspective.

Words are an important way for me to process what we are experiencing.  Using them in writing and in interaction with anyone unfortunate enough to ask how we are doing, provides a wonderful release.

Here is when to worry: when I stop writing and talking.  It will be time to worry when I no longer shower and wash my hair in the morning, get Mary Ann dressed and fed, make the beds and clean the commode, clean the kitchen counters, drink PT’s coffee and eat Baskin & Robbins ice cream (actually I should stop that last one, it would be healthier), feed the birds.  If I start telling everyone how perfectly I am doing, never sad or frustrated or out of control or grumpy or angry, always sweet and nice and wonderful, then it will be time to call 911 and have me institutionalized.

All of that being said, “The Doctor who treats himself has a fool for a patient.” I appreciate people asking the hard questions of me since I could be deluding myself into thinking I am doing better than I am.  When the Hospice Social Worker came, she asked very many pointed questions of both Mary Ann and me.  I felt I was being absolutely honest with her when I answered each question.  I recognize that there are still more difficult times coming.  I feel healthy spiritually and mentally now, and I expect to deal with what comes as it comes in ways that express fully what I am going through. I am on the pay as you go plan.  When I hurt, I will hurt and when I am wounded, I will feel the pain.  With that Grace of God as the power, healing will come.

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.

 

March 9, 2010

Cherish?? Maybe not Every Moment

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Help from Others, Hospice, Information on Parkinson's, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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“I am cherishing every moment we have together.”  That is what I said in last night’s post after the challenge of feeding Mary Ann.  I lied!  As terrible as it sounds, I don’t cherish every moment.  At 4:15am after having been aroused for one thing or another multiple times an hour (the last one only five minutes before) Mary Ann insisted on getting up.  I did not cherish that moment with her.  I got her up and out in front of the television in the living room and went back to bed for an hour.  Then she was ready to lie down, at least for a while.

I guess I am a terrible Husband and Caregiver to admit to not cherishing at all times my sick wife on the last leg of her journey from here.  Yes, I do feel guilty about it.  I sound so sweet and loyal and loving when I say I cherish every moment with her.  I am not all those things!  I am just an ordinary selfish somebody trying to live out my life and my relationship with Mary Ann with a degree of honor, expressing my love for her.  I do cherish most of the time with her, extending even into waste management.  I just get grumpy when I don’t get my beauty sleep.  (Who is going to be the first smart-aleck to suggest just how clear it is that I am seriously sleep-deprived?)

Is it the Amantidine that we resumed that is making the hallucinations and restlessness so intense, or, since she had slept four days, were we just due for the usual return of that behavior?  God only knows, and He ain’t telliin’.  How about the idea of somehow trying to get God a wireless router so that he could just email responses to prayers and cries for help??  How getting on that, Steve, Bill?

When Daughter, Lisa was here last week, her Mom slept all but about four hours of Lisa’s visit.  “Lisa, I would gladly have traded last night for one of the sleep days or nights you had when I was gone.”  Yes I am grateful that Mary Ann is napping now.  I gave her the morning dose of Amantidine, still hoping that she will regain the use of her hands and the ability to assist with her leg muscles when being transferred from her chair to the bed or toilet stool or dining room chair or car, should we be able to get her out again.  This almost 67 year old body is beginning to show its age (the mind is still 25 years old, except for the memory which is pushing 90).

At one point last night Mary Ann was convinced that she was not in her bed, but another bed like hers.  She was convinced this morning that the dining room table was not our our dining room table.  In fact when I first tried to transfer her to the dining room chair for breakfast, she refused since she didn’t want to sit next to the bride.  At least when I checked with her, the bride wasn’t Lulu (the woman I married after divorcing her in one of her dream/hallucinations).  She didn’t know who the bride was.  When I asked if she wanted me to turn on the television she said it was “his” television, not ours.

She has been napping for about three hours now.  Yes, I am grateful for the break.  I just don’t want her to sleep too long.  She had a good breakfast, but she has not yet had lunch.  It is after 2pm.  Our Daughter-in-Law Becky relayed an email from a close friend who works for a Hospice.  In that email, she said that people come to need less nourishment at this time in life, suggesting that I can relax if a meal is missed.  Mary Ann always “ate like a bird” — one reason she has never gotten overweight (very annoying) in all our years together.  Other than ice cream, she usually eats what would be the equivalent of a child’s portion (a pre-teen child).

This morning Bath Aide Zandra brought a helper with her since Mary Ann had fainted so many times the last time she did her shower.  Zandra was concerned that Mary Ann had hit her head because she couldn’t get into the right position soon enough to stop her from falling off the shower chair.  She asked about the possibility of getting a secure three sided shower chair so that Zandra could stand in front and be sure she wouldn’t fall to the side.  We had a tubular metal rolling shower chair that we obtained a few years ago.  It turned out to be unsafe because of the reinforcing bar across the front, making safe entry and exit from the chair virtually impossible.

Zandra was a bit distressed to see how much Mary Ann had declined since her visit last Wednesday.  Today Mary Ann could not assist at all in getting from the transfer chair to the shower chair and back.  Mary Ann’s hands were fine last Wednesday but swollen and clubbed (nor sure that is the right word for describing the claw-like form) today.

I just called our Hospice Nurse, Emily, who listened carefully to what we needed for the shower.  She said she would try to find it for us.  In fact, she said that if we didn’t hear from her, one would be delivered tomorrow afternoon.  Holy Mackerel!! That is an unbelievably fast response.  I have seen PVC pipe chairs that looked sturdier, but the last time I searched a couple of years ago, I didn’t see one without a bar in front.  I hope the supplier Hospice uses has something workable.

Mary Ann had an appointment with the Dental hygienist for her much needed quarterly cleaning scheduled this afternoon.  I did try to get her up in time to go, but she declined.  That was at about 1pm.  It is now 2:45pm and she is still sleeping.  Again, she didn’t want to go to bed until after 11pm last night and spent much of the night, especially from 2am or 3am on, up and down.

She slept until some time after 5pm. She ate a good supper, sat in front of the televsion for a while, then headed back to bed about 7:30pm.  At about 8pm she was hungry and wanted a bowl of ice cream again.  After taking some Ibuporfen for back pain and then later taking her night time meds, she is now lying down.  I am not expecting her to settle in without lots of restlessness tonight.  We will see.

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.

 

March 8, 2010

Mary Ann is Now in Hospice Care

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Family, Help from Others, Information on Parkinson's, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Therapeutic Activities, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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What that means is that we have someone to call whatever comes up.  A Hospice Nurse will stop by a couple of times a week.  We have added one day a week of having an Aide to help with shower and hair.  Mary Ann loves current Bath Aide Zandra, so we will continue to use that paid service.  All the Hospice costs are covered by Medicare.

The Hospice Nurse who enrolled Mary Ann today was already helpful.  Mary Ann declined so much in the last few days since we took her off one med (Amantadine), that I thought we should start it again.  Because these are powerful meds, I didn’t want to do it without professional advice.  This is Sunday.  Nurse Jennifer contacted the Hospice Pharmacist and confirmed that it was all right to restart the med.  The most obvious change was the clubbing of Mary Ann’s hands, rendering them useless — in four days.  We are all hoping that her hands will return to functionality when the med reaches the therapeutic level in her bloodstream.  There are no guarantees that she will regain what she lost.

Mary Ann was a little more responsive this afternoon.  She was up while the Hospice Nurse was here, and she responded appropriately a few times.  She has been sleeping much of the day, but up for breakfast and to get dressed, as well as an hour or two after the Hospice Nurse left.  She was actually lying with her head down and her eyes closed, but at least she was out of the bedroom.  She ate lunch, the usual half sandwich, chips and a Pepsi, followed by a good-sized bowl of Buttered Pecan ice cream.  As hard as it is to hold her head up and feed her at the same time, I am cherishing every moment we have together.

She has not yet eaten supper.  I have been going in to talk with her every half hour or so to see if she is hungry or wants to use the bathroom.  She finally got up to eat at about 8pm.  She ate a substantial supper capped off with a small Boost and ice cream shake.  The Boost should help assure adequate nouishment.

As the evening has worn on, it is beginning to appear that the Amantidine is a very problematic medication.  She is now very alert, unable to sleep, doing some hallucinating, and when she was in bed complaining that she couldn’t move.  She is up and in the living room watching television, sitting up and it is 11:15pm.  There is no sign she is slowing down — I take that back.  She just decided to lie down in bed.  I don’t know how long that will last, but she has been sleeping most of the time for almost five days, so I guess it would be no surprise if she is up many times tonight.

It is tiring be be jerked around so much of the time by medications that wreak havoc with her functionality.  Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.  Sometimes they do exactly the opposite of what they are supposed to do.  Then in an hour or a day or a week, they start doing what they are supposed to do — or not.  I will wait to see if her hands open and resume usefulness.  If they don’t, I will talk with the doctor again about the possibility of removing it.  When looking at side effects, Amantidine’s list contains very many of Mary Ann’s problems.  Stopping it seemed to result in the clawed hands and weakness that does not allow her even to assist in a transfer, let alone walk, even with assistance.  Today after restarting the Amantadine this afternoon, it has seemed to produce more strength and alertness, sort of bringing her back to life.  Of course I can’t be sure the medicine is causing all the changes.  It is just that the changes seem to associate directly with the times we stopped and then started again the Amantadine.

Even the professionals, Doctors and Pharmacists can’t help very much since people don’t always react in the same way to the same medication.

On the positive side of taking the Amantadine, if it helps with her alertness and ability to communicate, that will be a very good thing in the next few weeks.  Some of Mary Ann’s friends and family intend to come and visit.  They would appreciate being able to interact meaningfully with her.

Some readers have asked about the time at the Retreat Center — how it went.  I have already written about the two evenings.  The day Friday was wonderful.  It was 70 degrees and full sun all day long.  Thursday night, when heading out to watch the sun set, I was spotted by a deer, who headed over to be with ten more deer.  I watched them for a long time.

During the day on Friday, I walked at a leisurely pace along the path that wanders back and forth through a large wooded area.  The moss on the path was in its new spring shade of green.  The trees were budded out ready to burst open with flowers for leaves.  There were birds to be enjoyed. There were some I couldn’t identify (not unusual).  Even though they are common, the Red-Bellied Woodpecker that doesn’t have a red belly, and the Yellow-Rumped Warbler, that does have a yellow rump are just fun to call by name.

I did see something out of the ordinary.  It is what one of the staff there has dubbed the Mutant Armadillo.  It is certainly an Armadillo, but the largest one I have ever seen, dead or alive.  I suspect it would take five or more of the ones that are routinely spotted on the side of the road with their feet in the ari to match the weight and size of the monster I saw.

I sat for a long time on the three legged stool in the fartthest corner of the property I could reach.  I read Psalm 104, a great description of the creation and all that’s in it.  Then I read the a few chapters in the book probing the implications of physics in regard to the presence of God.  It was a good grounding for me as we ride the roller coaster we are on here at home. I did take a moment to phone home from that place.  I have done that on the last few retreats.  It helps me keep the world of prayer and meditation connected to the day to day reality.

I continue to be overwhelmed by the words of support through the electronic media.  There is no chance to feel isolated and alone when so many are thinking of us and praying for us.  Thank you all for that.

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.

 

March 7, 2010

Decision is Made

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Family, Help from Others, Information on Parkinson's, Meaningful Caregiving, Relationship Issues, Sources of Strength, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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I am phoning the Hospice folks tomorrow (Sunday) to begin the application process for Hospice.  When we asked in a way that she could respond yes or no, Mary Ann said yes.  The kids both agree wholeheartedly.  I have grieved my way through to agreeing.

It seems none too soon.  I can’t believe how much Mary Ann appears to have declined in just the last three or four days.  She slept through the entire time I was gone, either in bed or in her chair with her head down.  She had been sleeping like that before I left.  She is seldom responsive, but can on occasion be lucid for a while. All of a sudden in the last three days, her hands have swollen and are stuck in a clench, which could become hand contractures, something our daughter saw often in the nursing home context.

Mary Ann was at the table with us during the entire conversation about Hospice, and the decision about the possibility of a Do Not Resuscitate order.  She had her head down but her eyes open.  The kids were sitting closest to her and I was across from her.  We worked hard to get responses from her at various times.  I explained that acceptance by Hospice would imply that we are on about a six month trajectory.  I added that if she was doing better she could “graduate” from Hospice for a time.  She responded in a way that seemed to indicate she was tracking with what I was saying.  She said a distinct yes, for all three of us to hear.

What is most comforting to me and, I am sure, to Mary Ann is that should she qualify for Hospice Care, she will be able to stay at home to the very end.  We both dread hospital stays so much; that alone was enough to seal the deal.  Of course, there still could be need for hospital care, but since Hospice can administer IV’s at home, it is far less likely there will be any need to do so.

I talked about the DNR option.  After explaining it and the reasoning for it, I asked her first thoughts on it.  Again she said, yes.  I told her that I would check back with her another time to be sure.

Since, a decade or two ago, Mary Ann already had tearfully wished she had gotten something she could die from rather than the long protracted decline of a disease like Parkinson’s, the DNR did not bring resistance but agreement.

Speaking of tears!  I have encouraged people, men and women alike, to celebrate the ability to cry as a powerful gift from God.  I have told people that it is a sign of strength and not of weakness.  At the same time I was proud of myself that in my adult life I could count on one hand the times I had cried out loud, sort of denying my own counsel.  Well, I am now, a few weeks short of my 67th birthday, giving up counting.

Last night in the cabin at the retreat center in Oklahoma, I could no longer hold it in.  I have ministered to people for forty years.  I have watched die and done funerals for people that I genuinely cared about.  I refused to become clinical and treat funerals and the people grieving at them as just a part of a job.  I risked becoming vulnerable enough to care about them.  I buried babies, and teenagers and young adults, parent of young children, people of all ages and circumstance.  I felt the pain and cared about how they were feeling.  I ministered to people and preached at the funerals and never broke down (except once in an inconspicuous moment after preaching at the funeral of one of my best friends).  I cannot describe to you just how different it is to think about watching Mary Ann go through what I have seen far too many times in these forty years.

I want this process to stop right now.  I am not willing to lose her — but I can’t do a damn thing about it!  There is no where to which to run to get away from it.  I have a very ugly and very loud cry.  I guess not having practiced it more, I never really learned how to do it well.  I warned the kids tonight and asked them to explain to their children that they might see their Grandpa crying out loud, but not to be afraid.  I wanted them to know that it is all right, even healthy to cry, to let their emotions show.

I spent the evening the night before last talking with friend John.  I just spewed it all out, the good, the bad and the ugly.  I can trust John with the worst of it.  He can listen without judgment and never give advice.  He had gone through a shorter version of this when his wife died of Cancer — shorter, but no less devastating.  He had some very tough challenges as a single parent immediately after Sherrie’s death.  I shared a struggle with anger toward someone in Mary Ann’s closest circle who hurt her deeply.  That evening, that person and that deed’s power to turn me into someone I don’t like was lifted from my shoulders, better said, my gut.

So much is happening so fast.  This is all I will write for now.  More will follow.

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.

 

February 26, 2010

Difficult Day

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This was one of the difficult days in the cycle we are in.  As much as I want her to be present with me, I was grateful when she took a couple of naps.  I don’t really know how to explain how difficult it is when Mary Ann is weaving hallucinations/delusions/dreams with moments that seem lucid, at least on the surface.

This mode demands full and constant attention.  Since she can’t differentiate what is real from what is not real, I am expected to deal with things that are not there.  Every task demanding my participation is multiplied exponentially in difficulty.

Of course she started trying to get up between 5am and 6am.  Then she was in the intense sort of mode that has a bit of an adversarial tone.  On days like today, she may be mobile on her own one minute and then weak and confused with her eyes shut the next moment.  When she is in that mode she often can’t connect with the simplest things.  If I ask her to sit down to put her pants on, she may stand up.  She may think we are in the bathroom when we are in the bedroom.

Eating is a nightmare.  When she will allow me to help, she often moves her hands in the way of the food as if she has food in her hands, or put her head down in a way that won’t allow me to put the food in.  She tried to drink the chips from the little pyrex dish, then she tried using a fork on the chips.

In this mode she will often not answer a question or say a word that doesn’t fit, then get angry with me for asking her again.  Sometimes she will say no to a food, but eat it when I put it to her mouth.

It is almost impossible to find out what she wants or where she wants to be.  At one point, she wanted to write a thank you note to a fiance’ from fifty years ago whom she decided had come by to visit.  Another time she just said she wanted her chip autographed.  I said back to her those words, and she confirmed that is what she said.  I, of course, have no idea what that was about.

It was a difficult day also because I find it physically very taxing to lift, move, twist her into the transfer chair or the chair at table when her eyes are closed and she has no spatial awareness to help.  Constantly getting her into and out of bed, turning her from facing one side to facing the other, demands physical strength that is right at my limit.  So much of the time in days like today, she is minimally helpful in that moving.

I tried to nap this morning during her first nap, but it was a restless one for her, so I needed to be up, helping.  Very soon she was up again.  Finally, this afternoon, I was able to rest in bed for about an hour while she was napping more soundly.

She has been incontinent in bowel activity and having bouts of mild diarrhea.  The tasks that are associated with that problem have been increasing and were included in today’s struggles.

I am disappointed in myself that it takes so little time when she is in this sort of mode for me to feel as if I am at the limit of my capacity to cope.  It would seem as if I should recoup when she has the sleeping days or a good day, and then be able to keep things in perspective, dealing with great patience on the bad days.

What seems to happen instead is that as soon as there are even signs that one of these especially frustrating times is coming, the dread emerges.  When the day comes, of course, it is after a challenging night.  With the difficult day comes the awareness that this is what is likely to be the norm more and more as the days and weeks and months and years go by.  As much of a struggle as today has been, it is only a taste of what is likely to be in store, judging from the experience of others.

I understand that the difficulties today are just for today.  Tomorrow may be better or worse, but that will be for tomorrow.  Were I perfectly rational and dispassionate, I would be able to take each moment as it comes without feeling the weight of past struggles and ones yet to come.  I am not perfectly rational and dispassionate.  I am alive, able to feel the frustration and helplessness and sadness to the core of my being.  With that comes the capacity to experience the full range of what it means to be alive, feelings of joy and exhilaration.  I guess the trick is to retain the capacity to experience fully the extremes that come with truly being alive without getting lost in one or the other.

Mary Ann’s friend, Jeanne, phoned today and will come tomorrow for part of the day to be with Mary Ann.  She came a few days ago to spend time with Mary Ann while I met with a friend, but Mary Ann slept the entire time Jeanne was here. Tomorrow’s visit will give me a chance to get the van serviced.  I was having difficulty figuring out how to get that work done given Mary Ann’s current condition.

Needless to say I am hoping for a better night and a better day tomorrow.  I can hope.

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.

 

February 24, 2010

Only One Good Day!

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And that day was yesterday.  This morning she awakened up early and had the sort of borderline lucid but intense demeanor that usual signals the return of difficult times.  Her blood pressure was up again (200/110), moving us back to no Midodrine.

She did all right getting ready and eating breakfast (of course with me feeding her), and seemed to be doing reasonably well when I took her to her Tuesday Morning group. She apparently did very well in her group, tracking and responding (softly) appropriately a couple of times.  By the time I came to pick her up, she had started leaning to the side  Her eyes were closed and she was not responsive.

In the car I suggested some options for picking up food or eating out.  I was very apprehensive about the trying to eat out, but at this point I will do anything to get her to eat.  She liked the idea of eating at BoBo’s (the local diner that made the Food Network’s series on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives).  I thought about getting take-out, but fries and burger would be cold by the time we got to the house.  Mary Ann wanted to go in.

I knew it would be a challenge since her eyes were still closed and she was moving with great difficulty and struggling with communicating. I am now physically exhausted from getting her in and out of BoBo’s and feeding her.  Maybe I am also emotionally exhausted.

I got her into the booth, but she was leaning and having trouble sitting up.  I had talked with her enough in the car before arriving to be able to order right away, a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake for her.  I ordered my usual fish sandwich.

As soon as the food arrived, it was obvious that Mary Ann would not be able to eat it by herself.  I moved her over and sat beside her in the booth (BoBo’s is very tiny with people on top of one another).  We were there shortly after 11am, so I hoped we would be in and out before the crowd — flawed thinking.

On the positive side, she ate most of the hamburger and shake.  However, feeding her was terribly difficult in that setting.  Since she could not sit up or hold her head up, I had to hold her up with one arm, using the hand on that arm to hold her head up, while using the other hand to feed her.  They had cut the burger into quarters at my request.  I am surprised at how physically challenging it was to hold her up that way while feeding her.

The shake was a special challenge.  At first, I used a spoon.  It is hard to communicate how difficult it is to get something soft and melting into a mouth that is hanging down over the table.  Her neck muscles are very strong and stiff, so pulling her head back to keep her mouth accessible takes all the strength I can muster.  She does not seem to balk at my pulling her up that way, so I don’t think it hurts her in any way.

After trying to use the spoon on the shake, I decided to wait and let it melt so that she could use the straw.  It was too thick for her to pull it through at first.  Later, after it melted, she was able to pull it up through the straw.  To make that work, I had to hold her head up with one hand (the one on the arm wrapped around her body) and hold the shake in her lap so that the she could get her mouth on the straw.  Again, the good news is that she drank most of the shake eventually. I felt pretty wimpy to be exhausted and sore from feeding Mary Ann lunch, but I guess I will have to accept that I am not as young as i used to be.

When we got to the house after BoBo’s, she was beginning to hallucinate a little (seeing a tube of something on the floor, there was nothing there).  After a trip to the bathroom, she went right to bed (about 12:45pm).

I am disappointed that it is appearing that this time we are getting only a little more than one good day after the last round of a couple of days of hallucinations and a couple of days of sleeping.  The last time we got almost three good days before the the troublesome ones returned.  Maybe she will be fine after a nap.  I guess it is apparent that I am not very hopeful about that.

The problem eating at BoBo’s today has the potential of having some lasting fallout.  There is now vividly ingrained in my psyche a disincentive to going out to eat.  I will need to be confident that she will not have such a difficult time and need so much help before risking eating in a restaurant.  I realize that this experience needs not to steal from us the freedom to go out.  Those feelings will, however, play into every decsion about whether or not to go out from now on.

She slept with only a commode break or two until 6pm when I got her some supper.  She allowed me to feed her, so she got a reasonable amount of food.  The hallucinations were not terribly strong during that time.  She sat in her chair for a few minutes after supper, and then headed in to lie down again.

She has the television on and has been restless for the last three hours.  I am at a loss to predict how things will go tonight and tomorrow.  Patterns just don’t ever stick with this disease.

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.

 

February 10, 2010

Unrelenting Hallucinations

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The hallucinations are now a constant presence.  All the time Mary Ann has been with me, she has been actively hallucinating.  Last night she was up at regular intervals, always hallucinating.  I had to talk her into lying back down.  She tried to get up for the day beginning at about 4am.

It has been harder to do everything we normally do.  Putting clothes on is more difficult since she is having trouble connecting on what leg to put where or how to hold her arms so that a shirt can be put on.  Often she wants to know why we are doing one thing or not doing another, often unsure what time of the day it is.

I knew it would be impossible for her to stay seated and safe while I took a shower.  Before drying my hair, I went out to check on her.  She was moving the lift out of the front door area.  When I came up she looked down the hall toward the office saying something about my mother, as if she was lying there. I don’t think she would head out the door of the house, however, I cannot rule out completely that possibility.

When finally I was finishing getting her ready to go to her Tueaday morning Bible Class, I mentioned that that is what I was doing.  “Bible Class, that will be somethign new,” she said.  At that moment, she had never heard of the group she has been meeting with for years.  During the Bible Class, apparently she was making the eating motions she often does, picking up imaginary pieces of food and putting them in her mouth.

There simply was not a waking moment that was not filled with hallucinations and the need to deal with them.  Mary (who schedules Mary Ann’s Volunteers) came over for a while to visit this afternoon.  Most of the time Mary was here, Mary Ann was in her transfer chair with her head down, close to sliding off on to the floor.  At least we were not up constantly chasing hallucinations while Mary was here.  Mary Ann decided to go and lie down toward the end of Mary’s visit.

Even when she lay down, she did not actually go to sleep.  Starting while Mary was still here and continuing until supper, she was in bed, but up and down as she is at night now.  If not very helpful to Mary Ann, at least the naps in the past have given me time to go to the computer, or just vegetate for a while.  Not this time.  She demanded my full attention and has done so every waking moment, as well as very many times during the night.

While, I, of course, am also in need again of some good nights of sleep, my being rested will not help in dealing with the level of needs she has now.

Last evening I enjoyed a wonderful break.  There was a local Audubon Society program at the library.   Volunteer Shari happened to be scheduled in the evening covering the time the program was held.  This was only the second time I have been at a local Audubon Society event of any sort.  The last time I came and went with no conversation, almost anonymously.  This time I knew someone who worked with the presenter and the one who introduced him.  Not only that, for fifteen years at a church in the Kansas City area, I had ministered to the family of the presenter’s uncle.  Those connections broke the ice, so I got to enjoy lots of conversation time at the end of the program.

As I was preparing to leave for the program last night, I realized just how much I needed time away and something distracting from the intensity of our situation at home at the moment.  This morning as the time for Mary Ann’s Bible Study was approaching, I was concerned about the uncontrollable stream of hallucinaitons, how that would play while she was with the group.  The weather was not good, as snow was falling at a far more rapid pace than predicted, making the side streets difficult.  There was plenty of reason not to take Mary Ann to her Bible Study.  She certainly seemed unaware of it in the midst of the hallucinations.

I just needed to get her there so that I could have another break from the intensity.  I knew her Truesday morning  group would accept her whatever she said or did.  I left my cell phone number with Mary, who sits next to her in the class, just in case Mary Ann’s words or actions were becoming a problem.

There seems to have been a transition from finding things to do when Volunteers come so that I will be more effective over the long haul, to needing the break just to survive another day.

I will be interested in how tonight goes.  Mary Ann has to be exhausted from all her activity day and night with no nap time to speak of in the last thirty hours or so.  She has needed my participation a number of times already tonight since she lay down two and a half hours ago.  The hallucinations have continued. It does not look good at the moment for any uninterrupted sleep tonight.  Assuming there is not a good night’s sleep for me either in the next couple of nights, I will need to try again on the paid overnight help.

I had better get to bed.  I am going to bed earlier and earlier in hopes that I can squeeze some sleep in before the worst of the night time problems emerge.  So far it has not been much help to get in there early.

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.

 

January 31, 2010

Craziness Continues

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Family, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Therapeutic Activities, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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Last night when I helped her to the commode, while sitting there, she told me she was in jail.  Another time when she sat up on the side of the bed I heard her say, “we are unarmed.”  Who knows what that was about.  This morning she was angry with me that I couldn’t understand that she had to pick up her Grandmother (of course gone for many decades).  Then when we went in to get her dressed, she said something about the fact that her Grandma died, and if it were my Grandma, we would be get there right away.

She is at the table in the heavy chair with the arms, subdued and dozing off and on, with her head lying on the table.  Yesterday I asked her often if she wanted to move. She always answered firmly that she was fine.  I am not bothering her so much today, but watching her moves using the A-V monitor screen by the computer at which I am sitting.

Last night was worse than the previous two nights, if that is possible.  Actually, the first part of the night, about 11pm to almost 3am, was within our more bearable norm of just being up a few times.  As I reported in my post last night, she was almost wild with the hallucinations and activity as if she was overdosed on speed before she finally agreed to get in bed.  It started again some time around 3am.  She started getting up on the side of the bed, talking and wanting to get up, dealing with the dream or hallucination of the moment.

In the 4am to 5am hour, the times up were as close together as three minutes.  She was very upset with me, as was I with her for that matter, that I insisted that she lie back down.  Finally shortly after 5am I just gave up and got her up to come out to the table and eat.  I knew it was too early to start the daytime pills.

It was not easy to get the food in her mouth, but she managed some yogurt and toast.  She was still hallucinating much of the time.  By about 7:15am, she was ready to lie down.  I went back to bed also since I have been pretty wasted with the short nights and challenging nights and days.  She slept about an hour. Then we got up, got her dressed and gave her the morning pills withmore yogurt.

With both of our kids, Lisa and Micah, emailing the same response at the same time that I had reached that conclusion, I have phoned Home Instead to see if someone could be found to stay with Mary Ann overnight some time very soon.  I will talk with them again on Monday.  At the moment, they have a number of folks out sick, so it will be some time before this can work out.  One option is their $150 for a twelve hour shift overnight.  That one won’t work for us, since that is only doable if the person staying with her is  up a maximum of four times to help her.  If that were the maximum times I was up with Mary Ann, I wouldn’t need the help.  That would be a great night in our world.  The next option is the hourly one. It runs $16-$18 an hour. It is certainly worth it to me for the sake of survival.  I will probably start with one night a week.

The problem, of course, is that the current situation is almost no longer doable.  It is hard to imagine being able to handle that all day long seven days and all night long six nights a week.

In checking with the online Lewy Body Dementia Spouses group, some others have had problems with Seroquel.  Some found it to be a problem at a larger dose, but workable at a lower dose.  One of them even used the description, “as if she was on speed.” that I had used before reading that post.

I have to decide whether to take the next step tonight by increasing the Seroquel from 125mg to 150mg.  This is not an easy choice.  The hallucinations had been increasing to an unbearable level before I increased the Seroquel from 100mg to 125mg.  I had been waiting anxiously for the batch to arrive in the mail, looking at the increase as the hope for returning the hallucinations to a manageable level. The first morning after I increased the dosage the first step, there was a hint of a little more lucidity.  That faded quickly and the frequency and intensity of the hallucinations ramped up even more.

Do I take the next step in hopes that the evidence is wrong, and it might begin to improve the situation rather than make it worse?  Do I respond to the evidence that it seems to be making the hallucinations worse and pull back?  At the moment, I do not know which I will do.  I don’t know how much risk there might be of another increase making the problem worse and moving us farther down the road permanently.  With LBD it is common for strong meds to cause a loss that cannot be regained.  That level of vulnerability is one of the ways LBD differs from Alzheimer’s Dementia.

Whatever I decide, assuming this does not improve, next week I will phone the Neurologist’s office at KU Med Center’s Parkinson’s Clinic and ask for a full review of her meds, to see what changes might have some hope of mitigating this pretty much untenable situation.

I suppose I will also make some phone calls, possibly visit, one or two places that could serve as options if this ceases to be doable at home.  In talking with my daughter, Lisa, the idea of hiring someone either to live-in and help out with Mary Ann a few hours in trade or someone to stay a couple of nights a week re-emerged.  We did have someone we hired for a few hours a week some years ago. I still have an active federal ID number and state withholding tax number just in case we go that route again. We have a finished basement with egress windows in the bedroom and living area, and there is also a large full bath (shower only). That space was finished to allow the option of live-in help if we needed it.

I guess we have been in the frog-in-the-kettle mode.  Things have been moving past being manageable at such a slow pace that I didn’t really realize how hot the water was getting.  I guess it is time to find a way to reduce the heat before our frog is cooked (or goose – take your choice).

Mary Ann stayed at the table, I got lunch for her, and she ate very little.  At about 2pm, after a trip to the bathroom, she stopped at the bed and indicated that she wanted to lie down.  She has been down for about an hour now.  It is such a relief that she is sleeping for her sake and for mine.  While sleeping during the day is not always a good idea, any time that she is resting and secure is a wonderful respite for me.

Our Son Micah phoned and will be coming over with our Daughter-in-Law Becky and Granddaughter Chloe this evening.  It is over an hour one way, and Chloe had indoor soccer and basketball games today, so we really appreciate them coming after a long day.  They arrived in time for us to order pizza.  Mary Ann was not ready to get up from the nap she started after lunch.  She did get up when supper came. 

She was moderately responsive, compared to having been almost completely unresponsive most of the rest of the day (other than the morning hallucinations).  She did eat a little of the pizza (cheese sticks).  She went to bed again while they were still here. 

It was very helpful to me to be able to sit and talk with them and hear how they are doing.  It was good for Mary Ann also just to have them around.  It was a low key evening, but just spending the time together seemed to lift for the moment the pall that has been settling over us last few days in particular. 

It is done.  I gave Mary Ann the fully increased dosage of Seroquel tonight.  One option that is unfortunately the more likely one is that by three or four in the morning at the latest. she will be bouncing off imaginary walls.  If and when that happens, I will be running after her as she does.   The less likely but preferred option is that she will finally sleep well and have fewer and less intense hallucinations tomorrow. 

And so the ride goes on! 

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.

 

January 23, 2010

The Hard Questions

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“How long do you intend to keep caring for Mary Ann at home?” he asked.  “Until I can’t handle it any more.” I answered.  Then the hardest of all, “How will you know when that time has come?”

Since we live in a world of denial that provides us the emotional and psychic room to live each day without constant dread, those questions are not often asked and answered.  First of all, I don’t know the answer.  I have intentions about how I intend for this story to end, but I have no answers to questions about how the future will actually play out.

Two days ago I was asked those questions with which I began this post.  Today I experienced to some degree elements of the answer I gave.  As I have said in earlier posts, my intention is for the two of us to stay together here at the house at least until one of us dies.  My intention is to use as many resources as I can locate and afford to help make that possible.  That intention is not just an intellectual decision about how I intend to proceed.  That intention lives in insides.

With that said, I had to answer the question rationally.  I intend for Mary Ann and me to be together here at the house until I can’t handle it any more.  The question that has to be addressed, the hard question is, how will I know when I can’t handle it any more.  I stumbled around some as I tried to answer that hard question.  The two things that came to mind are hallucinations that get out of hand and grow into a steady stream, and the inability to get any sleep.  The two are related.

Today was an example of those two problems converging.  Last night Mary Ann was up multiple times, as many as a half dozen in an hour.  Almost every one of those times, there were people, or raccoons or other visual images not actually present outside of her mind.  The lack of sleep during the night meant that the hallucinations came in a constant stream this morning when she got up.  She asked if we were the only ones in the house, implying that she thought we were not the only ones.

By the way, yesterday, as she was eating the last piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie with ice cream (pie she had eaten with great enthusiasm for the two days before), she decided that the filling in this last piece of pie had somehow changed into tomato sauce. She ate the ice cream, but left most of the huge piece of pie. I am afraid of the day when I can’t get her to eat enough food because of what her mind is seeing.

Today, she grabbed the bedspread as I was folding it at the foot of the bed preparing for her nap.  She said there was a sheet of stamps or stickers stuck to it.  The bedspread was right in front of our eyes, she had her hand on it, convinced that she was pulling off what was stuck on it.  She told me to turn on the bright lights on the ceiling fan over the bed so that I could see the sheet of stamps.  When the light went on, she reluctantly admitted that they were not there. On the way to the bedroom tonight, she stopped and told me to get rid of “that” and then stepped over something that was not there on the floor in front of her.

This morning, when the hallucinations were at their steadiest, Mary Ann simply could not sit down for more than a minute or some fraction thereof.  She would jump up to go to one spot or another to get a good look at or pick up whatever it was she saw.  I had to jump up every minute or fraction thereof to grab hold of her gait belt so that she did not fall.  Once she was so dyskinetic when she jumped up that it was all I could do to untangle her feet and help her sit back down before she fell into a couple of tables next to her.  The activity was so steady that I could do nothing but follow her from one hallucination to another, or one task she had in her mind to do, pretty much always losing track of whatever it was by the time we got wherever she was leading me.

If hallucinations came at that pace constantly, I would soon be completely unable to cope.  The lack of sleep impacts both of us.  The less she sleeps at night, the more she hallucinates, the stronger and more vivid and more frequent they become.  The less she sleeps, the less I sleep.  The less I sleep, the less able I am to cope with the hallucinations.  They compound one another, lack of sleep and hallucinations, and my capacity to cope.

Here is how my inability to cope expressed itself this morning.  I told Mary Ann that I had been asked about how long I could keep her at home.  I told her that my answer included two things that could make it impossible, lack of sleep and streaming hallucinations like the ones that we were dealing with this morning.  It was cruel to say that to her.  I have no excuse.  My frustrating inability to cope with the constant following her to one thing and then another, after having a very poor excuse for a night’s sleep was the context, but I chose to say those harsh words. She has Parkinson’s Disease Dementia!  She didn’t choose the disease!  She didn’t choose the hallucinations!  She didn’t choose the frustrating behavior!

I guess there was a part of me that hoped the words would get through to the healthy part of her mind that has some ability to control her actions.  What she said next, broke my heart.  “Then what would happen to me?”  Usually, whatever I say just bounces off with no reaction.  This time it broke through.

I need say just how hard it was to actually write for all to see those last paragraphs revealing what I said to her.  I am ashamed and embarrassed.  I can only hope that someone reading this post has been there and said things of which you are not proud also.  I have chosen to face my own flaws head on without pretense, since it is just too hard to pretend to be someone I am not. My hope is that facing the flaws head on, will allow me to grow into someone better able to cope, a better Caregiver.

In answer to Mary Ann’s question about what would happen to her, I immediately told her of my intention for us to stay here together until one of us dies.  I told her I would use paid help here at the house to help do the care when I could not handle it by myself.  I told her that if I die first the kids would take care of her, keeping her close to them.

All I wanted to do was to get her to stop hopping up, responding to the various things she saw. She did stop hopping up, and I was able to get my shower done, make the beds, write an email or two and finish getting her ready for the Public Health Nurse’s visit.  I don’t know if what I said had any impact in that change in behavior, but even if it did, I feel no less guilty about being so harsh.

It is at times like this that I am very grateful to have a God who has openly addressed our flaws and stolen from them the power to ward off the Lord’s love of us.  That is why the song is called “Amazing Grace.”  The power of that gracious love is transformational.  It frees us to face our failures.  At the same time it challenges us to grow and change, cradled in the arms of that love.

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.

 

January 16, 2010

Get Over It!!!!!!!

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Therapeutic Activities, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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Maybe it’s Lori’s Chocolate Chip cookies (see yesterday’s post) doing their anti-depressant wonders.  Maybe it is having an almost normal (for us) night’s sleep.  Maybe it is reading yesterday’s post in the morning — late in the evening it is easy to become pensive and full of self-pity.  Maybe it is the dramatic contrast of all that we in our household have compared to the pain and suffering of tens of thousands in Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake.  Maybe it is just getting tired of hearing myself whine.

Whatever it is, I need clarify for myself and any who follow this blog, that what I am feeling in regard to my change of circumstances from Senior Pastor of a large, thriving congregation to the full time primary Caregiver of my wife Mary Ann is just experiencing to the full the dynamics that come along with any major change in life.  There is a letting go of the past and settling in to a new set of present circumstances.

What I am experiencing in letting go of the past has nothing to do with the congregation from which I retired.  In fact, if anything, the wonderfully nurturing and loving people, the caring and competent Staff that actually served as my primary support group during the very toughest time trying to work full time and care for Mary Ann, the generosity of the Leadership of the congregation, the Volunteers (as many as 65 of them at one time) who stayed with Mary Ann all the time I was working away from the house (sometimes staying with her when I needed time to work at home), the Volunteers who have continued to stay with Mary Ann at times for a year and a half now since I retired from being their Pastor, the huge cadre of people there who threw the most fantastic party imaginable when I retired, all of that kindness just dramatizes the contrast between that part of my life and this part of my life.

Would it have been easier if they had all been mean and ugly to me?  I suppose in one sense it might have made me want to get out of there.  I have often reminded people who were hurting after the loss of a loved one, missing them so much, that their pain is a sign of the depth of their love for the one they have lost.  In that sense, I am grateful for every moment of gut-grieving.  It validates the value of the years of service in the church.  It reveals the depth of love for so many over the decades.  It is one way my gut reminds me that those years were good years.

Then, there is the truth of the matter.  No one asked me to retire.  There was plenty of reason as I struggled to do justice to the ministry and give Mary Ann the care she needed, for the leadership to say to me, “Don’t you think it is time for you to retire?” Instead, they said, “What can we do to help?”  I am the one who chose to retire.  It was without a shred of doubt exactly the right thing to do for me, for Mary Ann, for the Congregation and for the Lord who granted me an easy and certain decision-making process.

My struggles now are just the living out of that decision, the living through of the transition from one career to another, one identity to another.  What the whining in these posts reveals is the ugly underbelly of a very ordinary, flawed, self-absorbed, sinful (the Biblical word for such things) somebody going through that transition.  On the positive side of it, I am convinced that the journey will be completed more quickly and completely by allowing the ugliness to emerge without sugar-coating it — naming it for what it is.  That way it is less likely to sneak up later and cause some unpleasant and unexpected consequences — at least that is the hope.

I have always marveled at the enormous power and generosity of God to be able to and to choose to use people like me to actually do stuff to accomplish God’s goals on this clump of dirt on which we all live.  As those of us in the business know and will (hopefully) admit, most of what God does is not so much done through us as it is in spite of us.

Mind you the recognition of what I have been doing recently in these posts, and my own charge to “get over it” does not carry with it a promise that I will no longer whine and complain.  Why on earth do you think I am writing this blog!  It is so that I will have a place to whine and complain.  What I do hope and pray is that what I am experiencing and my reflections on it, the processing of the feelings will provide some bit of comfort to others who sometimes think they are going crazy, can’t go on any longer, are the only ones feeling that way, aren’t as good and nice as they should be, are failing to meet their own expectations.

What I hope is that other Caregivers who read this will understand that they have a harder job than anyone who hasn’ t done it realizes, that what they are doing has as much value as anything anyone has ever done no matter how important it might seem in the public forum, and that their lives have a depth of meaning they might never have found without the privilege of caring for another human being who needs them and whom they love deeply.

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.

 

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