We are still pretty much snowed in.  Actually, the street and driveway have been clear enough to get out.  The main streets are passable according to the television weather folks, but many of the side streets are not   If we did try to get out, I am not sure what we would do and why.  Mobility in a wheel chair is pretty much compromised when there is snow and ice involved, even when shoveled.

We did not venture out today and may not do so tomorrow, although we will try to get to the Evening Service at church.  I am grateful for some meatloaf from the freezer brought by Maureen some time ago.  A couple of baked potatoes and half of a small head of cabbage rounded out supper.   There should be enough leftovers for tomorrow.  There is still cold meat and cheese from a Christmas gift brought over by former members — good people.  As always, I could eat for months on what we have in the freezer, but Mary Ann would starve. 

I am afraid the time here in the house together without break is wearing thin.  Today was an NCIS Marathon on television.  I like the program and find the characters entertaining, at least I did for the first few hours.  I wander back and forth to and from the computer and the kitchen, doing whatever chores there are to get away from the television. 

Finally, I moved to the kitchen to write some thank you notes and watch some news.  Mary Ann popped up and ended up on the Living Room floor.  She did not hurt herself.  As the grumpiness sets in, I found myself resenting the unwillingness to push the button next to her so that I could get there to help.  The video/audio monitor I use keep her in sight when not by her side  was by the computer.   I should have brought it into the kitchen, but I was not going to be in there long.  Taking the monitor from room to room through the day as I go back and forth and plugging it in so that I can see her just doesn’t seem very workable to me. 

I could be more assertive in insisting that the television be adjusted to my taste, but when she is not engaged in what is on television, she is up heading to one place or another, demanding my jumping up to be at her side.  It is far less difficult for me, if whatever is on TV captures her interest. 

It would have seemed reasonable to ask Mary Ann to help with the thank you notes to involve her in something other than watching television.  It is hard for both of us, but especially Mary Ann to accept how much she has lost.  Last year, I tried including her in the Christmas Card preparation.  She simply could not do any part of the task without utter frustration.  Finally, she tried putting the stamps on the cards.  She could not manage to get the self-stick stamps off the backing and then on the envelop anywhere near the spot they need to be.  She just gave up in frustration. 

It is hard to think about how much she has lost after being so talented in so many areas.  It is clearly very painful to her.  I think that what is hardest for her is the sheer boredom of not having things to do that she is able to do.  I am often disappointed in myself that I do not engage her more in trying to do things that mitigate her boredom.  I am so busy trying to entertain myself in between just doing the basic caregiving tasks, that I can’ t seem to bring myself to add more that might entertain her.   I am certainly not proud of that gaping flaw in my caregiving. 

During her nap today I began doing an online Spirituality Retreat using the Ignatian model.  There are different materials for each of thirty-four weeks.  It is provided by Creighton University.  I do not have a very good track record for keeping at such a discipline, especially in my current role.  I am hoping by attaching the retreat activities to Mary Ann’s daytime naps, I might find it doable on a continuing basis. 

The approach is to fold the central focus of that week into all the daily activities so that ultimately, it is running in the background of the retreatant’s mind no matter what he/she is doing at any given moment. 

The first week’s focus is on going through a picture album of the retreatant’s life using the mind’s eye.  The first couple of days focus on childhood, the second couple of days on teen through young adult years and the third couple of days the retreatant’s adult life.  The goal is not just to remember, but to tap the feelings associated with those events and look for learnings that came from them, gifts that both the good events and the bad ones left behind. 

I have some free software called iDaily Diary that I use for journaling on occasion.  There I will record reflections on the pictures that come to mind.  I may share bits and pieces if they are not too private and they relate in some way to the role of Caregiver. 

Enough for now.  It is late, and Mary Ann has been getting up pretty early the last few days.  I can feel the tiredness spreading through my mind and body.  Let’s hope for a good night of sleep. 

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When I stepped out on the deck a short time ago, the snow squeaked when I walked.  I have seldom heard that squeak since I headed off to college in the fall of 1961.  Actually, I did have opportunity to hear that squeaking for my undergraduate years, since they were spent going to school in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Northern Indiana.

The wind is howling through the trees.  The snow is blowing.  There is potential for over a foot of snow by morning and gusts of wind up to 50 miles an hour.  I felt an odd sort of nostalgia when I stood out there listening to the wind and feeling the cold and snow on my face.  I have no wish to live in a cold climate again.  When I step outside, I come back in right a way to enjoy the warmth.  Nonetheless, there are flashbacks to a time when I played endlessly in the snow, built snow forts, went sledding down every hill I could find in flat Northern, Illinois.

The Kentucky Crew, Daughter Lisa, Denis, and little Abigail and Ashlyn, headed off this morning to avoid the blizzard.  Otherwise they would have missed Denis’s family gathering and maybe a workday or two depending on travel conditions after the blizzard.  There is always a bit of separation sadness when the kids leave.  My Mother, even when we were older adults and she was in her 80’s, said that when we left after a visit, she would get in the car and go somewhere, maybe invite someone to meet her for lunch, to mitigate the sadness in the pit of her stomach.

I am almost glad for the blizzard.  It is distracting enough to take our mind off the time of separation sadness.  I am not glad for the timing of the blizzard.  We have missed out on every Celebration of Christmas in a corporate worship setting this year.  I am hoping to find something on the television or computer to help provide at least the illusion of worshiping in a corporate setting.

The changes in plans caused by the weather, something outside of our control, brings to mind a thread of discussion in the online group made up of Caregiving Spouses of those with some form of Lewy Body Dementia.  One of the members included the following quotation.

“The carrying out of a vocation differed from the actions dictated by reason or inclination. … The most beautiful life possible has always seemed to me to be one where everything is determined, either by the pressure of circumstances or by impulses such as I have just mentioned, and where there is never any room for choice.” Simone Weil.

The quotation was made in the context of reflecting on the acceptance of the Caregiving Role, immersion in it, and thoughtful wonderings about the prospect of having choice again should we outlive our Loved Ones.

The responses that followed included some blunt rejections of accepting the loss of choice and giving up other dimensions of the Caregiver’s life.  That thread has been very thought provoking.  I have written lots of words in earlier posts on this.  It was good for me to think again about what I am doing, the way I have chosen to do it, why I am doing it, and its impact on my quality of life.  I recognize that what I am doing as I reflect is very self-centered, but my reason for doing this blog is to help other Caregivers make sense of what they are doing.

Mary Ann’s needs are basic and constant.  It is not her choice that she have those needs.  They are just a fact of her life, and on that account, as her husband, my life.  Those needs do not leave much in the way of choice.  If I don’t respond to a need, there are consequences for her and consequences for me.

As in the quotation, there is not a lot of stress resulting from being conflicted about what to do from one moment to the next.  I simply respond as effectively as possible to the needs that arise.  There are few choices to be made.  What is at issue, at least for some of the respondents online is the struggle with giving up choice.

As I think about my circumstances, what has given me comfort and peace in living as a Caregiver, with few choices, is the reality that I have chosen this role.  There were other alternatives with varying degrees of difficulty in making them a reality.  I chose this role.  As I have said many times before, I chose it for my own benefit as well as Mary Ann’s benefit.  It does need to benefit her to accomplish the very thing that gives me satisfaction and creates meaning in my life, but when all is said and done, I am doing it for me.  I love her, I promised to live that love whatever came, I want to do things that help me feel good about myself.

I am also convinced that the quality of life does not depend so much on externals.  If we were traveling the globe together, we would be happy sometimes, sad other times, angry sometimes and at peace other times.  I am not so foolish as to suggest that people who are in horrible circumstances should buck up and be happy.  Even with our challenges, there are way more frightening realities out there.  I don’t know how I would feel or what I would say if things were worse than they are.  All I can say is that at the moment, I am convinced that I have as good a quality of life as I would have doing much of anything else, including playing all the time (which sounds boring to me).

There is one dimension to my situation that raises a question for me.  When I get up in the morning and look at our clear schedule, instead of longing for things to fill the day, I celebrate that I am not overwhelmed with too much to do.  For 40 years in the ministry, my average work week ranged from 60 to 70 hours.  I was on call (sickness, marriage and personal counseling, deaths) 24/7 to anywhere from a thousand to three or four thousand people when adding together members and their immediate circle of relatives and friends.  In the last years, while I did not take a directive approach, I was ultimately impacted and responsible for and responsible to a fairly large paid staff and a huge staff of volunteers.  Again, I did not relate directly to all of them, but by virtue of the role lived with the consequences of their choices.  The vast majority of time I had the joy of benefiting from their good choices.  That was not always the case.

In the last few years before I retired, Mary Ann’s needs consituted a full time job all the hours there was not a Volunteer with her.  There were regularly sleepless nights and always nights of interrupted sleep.  The job of Senior Pastor in a comparatively large congregation was exceedingly demanding in terms of time and personal stamina.

What I am wondering is if I might still be resting up from what had become an overwhelming load.  Even small tasks now can bring an almost PTSD sort of flashback to feeling overwhelmed.  Maybe I am settling in to having one focus of need since it is such a relief not to have loads of needs coming from numbers of directions.

One thing about the circumstances we are in, and the loss of choice in what I do minute by minute and hour by hour, is that I do not feel like a victim.  The circumstances are just that, objective realities that we must deal with.  Everyone has circumstances.  They just differ from one another.  These are ours.

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She knew exactly what she wanted us to make for Christmas dinner.  I had no idea what she was thinking until that moment in the grocery store.  I had asked a number of times what she thought we should make for Christmas dinner when the family gathered.  Each time I asked there was no response.  I made suggestions encouraging a yes or no answer, but there were no answers, neither yes nor no.

At the grocery, she said something out of the blue about making a list.  Then I think she said the word “salad.”  The interaction caught me off guard, since she seemed to be saying that we needed to list ingredients for something for Christmas.  We were in the throes of shopping, dealing with the person in the deli department slicing cold meat for us.

That conversation ceased for the moment.  When we were passing by the meat counter, on the way to get something on the other side of it, she stopped and said something about ham.  The options I had been suggesting as options in those earlier attempts at deciding what to prepare included things we have had in the past, a spiral cut Honey Baked Ham, a brisket, turkey, even a take out Prime Rib special from a local restaurant I had just seen.  Through some asking and answering it became clear that she was talking about ham steaks.

We got two large ham steaks.  Then she said something about grapes.  Finally she said “Grape Salad.”  That is a very tasty salad that again had never been mentioned in the many times I asked about Christmas dinner.  I had gotten only complete silence in response.

What apparently was happening is what I remember Thomas Graboys talking about in his book, Life in the Balance.  Mary Ann seemed to have had conversations in her mind that never included any words coming out of her mouth.  There have been times that she seemed convinced that she had said something, or we had talked about something when there had never been any spoken words.

Occasionally, Mary Ann has seemed to blur the line between dreams and reality, convinced that there was an interaction, a conversation about something, providing information that sounded as if is was the matter of fact recounting of something someone had told her.  What complicates things is that sometimes she is remembering absolutely perfectly something that did happen, was said, something I either wasn’t around to hear, or simply forgot.

On the positive side, it forces me to listen to her without dismissing what she says immediately even if it sounds bizarre.  It may be true.  It may not be true.  On the negative side, I am always pretty unsure and often frustrated trying to figure out which is which.

Mary Ann has not been able to participate much in the shopping for Christmas gifts.  I have gotten lists or thought of or seen something in most cases.  There was one item she remembered for someone, something mentioned to her when I was not around.  We got it.  I am not sure if it is a memory of a converation in a dream or a real one.  In this case, I am fairly confident it is something she is remembering from a real conversation.  I will find out when the presents are opened this Sunday, when we celebrate an early Christmas.

I do have to admit that while sometimes pretty frustrating, it is not boring around here.  There are often surprises, sometimes pleasant ones, sometimes not.  I suppose a couple of days of boring might be okay, as long as there was a good night’s sleep included.

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In forty years of calling on the sick, I can’t tell you how many times I heard from people who had gone through a surgery after they had recuperated, “I didn’t know how bad I felt before I had the surgery until now, now that I feel good again.”  I don’t think I realized just how heavy the weight was that I felt, thinking Mary Ann was declining at a faster and faster pace.

I can’t know how long the feeling will last since this is such a roller coaster ride we are on, but for the moment, it feels as if a deep and heavy sadness has been lifted.   Like a little child, I tend to act out when I am struggling with something.  I act out by getting grumpy.  I make no promises to anyone that I will now be nicer for a while, but there is a profound sense of relief.

Our Cardiologist, Dr. M, was a parishioner for the last dozen years of my ministry.  We have come to appreciate him very much.  He combines a lot of traits that a patient looks for in his/her doctor.  He takes the time to listen well.  Not only that, but he takes what the Patient and Caregiver have said into account when making decisions.  He is decisive in a way that respects those whose lives are impacted by those decisions.

He has made clear that he is not in the business of predicting the future and cannot answer the “how long” questions.  What he will do is disclose what he knows, analyze it and make a logical assessment of the situation.  While I am always looking for something that help clarify where we are on our journey, there simply are not definitive answers to my questions.

Today, I took an approach that allowed Dr. M to analyze the data with me and compare where we are to where we were eight months ago (the last round of tests).  He also looked back farther so that we could get a sense of the trajectory we are on, at least in terms of Mary Ann’s heart and kidneys.  The Neurologist is the one to ask about the Parkinson’s and Parkinson’s Disease Dementia.  The heart issues in particular provide the most concern in terms of longevity.

Dr M’s look at some key indicators seemed to reveal, that while Mary Ann’s heart and kidney health has declined, in most ways she has been moving back and forth along a pretty level trajectory.  Her numbers have been worse at times in the past than they are now.  They also have been better than they are now.

The conclusion seems to be that Mary Ann is fairly stable, not on a trajectory that is taking her quickly toward free fall.  Mary Ann and I are fully aware that something precipitous could happen, but the truth is, that is so for all of us.  The Parkinson’s itself has been moving very slowly.  There are not likely to be dramatic changes in its progress.  The Parkinson’s Disease Dementia, is another matter.  It is very unpredictable.  It changes in fits and starts and can turn on a dime in a new direction or return to a better place thought never to be seen again.  Other than trying to control the Autonomic malfunctions to the degree we can, we have only the Exelon patch to help with cognitive issues.

As to her heart and kidneys, it is the high blood pressure that is the enemy.  Today Dr. M responded favorably to my suggestion that we consider the addition of  Mestinon to Mary Ann’s medication regimen.  That drug has the potential of helping control the fainting by raising her BP only when she stands up, the time it drops thereby precipitating a fainting episode.  It is an off-label use of the drug, but there are no major concerns that militate against trying it.  It does not conflict with anything she is currently using.

My intention is to cut in half the dosage of the Midodrine (okay with Dr. M) for a few days, then add the Mestinon. It is always wise to change only one med’s dosage at a time so that any problematic changes that might occur will be easier to trace to the source.  I will try to take her BP as often as possible and ask our Parish Nurse if she would stop by to check it also. The goal is to use as little Midodrine as possible since it raises BP all the time, not just when standing.  BP is highest when lying down, since it does not have to fight gravity.

The information received today through Dr. M’s analysis helps in a couple of ways.  Both Mary Ann and I perceived what he said in a positive way.  I feel a sense of relief that revealed just how down I had felt about her perceived decline.  We understand her to be pretty stable and on a fairly flat trajectory in the progression of the heart and kidney problems.  Another way that we are helped by having more clarity on where we are in this journey, is that we can use our ability to deal with the challenges more efficiently.  We can’t afford wasting our days fighting things we cannot change.   We can’t afford to waste our energy because we are in denial about the realities of our situation.  As I have said before, a certain amount of well-placed denial can be very helpful in living through our days as meaningfully as possible.  However, we need to know what to accept and what to fight.  We don’t want to accept something when we should be fighting it, nor do we want to fight something that it is time to accept.  Today helped us better discern what to fight and what to accept.

At least tonight, my assessment is that I had moved toward acceptance of a more rapid decline than is actually happening.  I feel more bold now about stretching the limits of what we are doing.  I will, of course, not be foolish about tackling things that put us at an unhealthy risk.  A certain amount of risk, however, is necessary to stay alive and well.  After so many years of practice, we have ways of dealing with most of the problems that arise when things do not go well.  If we try something and it goes badly, we will deal with it and try something else.

I guess it has been a good day!

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Mary Ann’s day seemed to go reasonably well.  There was no napping, although a few times during the day her head hung pretty low, resting on the arm of her transfer chair.  Each time I asked her if she wanted to go in the bedroom and nap or stay out in the living room, she opted for the living room.

Zandra, her bath aide, came this morning, but she was pretty sleepy through the shower and getting dressed.   By lunch time, she was open to going out to get something to eat.  She did pretty well with a hamburger cut into quarters.  She let me cut it into quarters for her, but she would not have tolerated my putting it to her mouth to help her since we were out in public.

After lunch, we headed to the grocery store.  As tired as she seemed, she loves going to the store and reminded me that I had mentioned that possibility.  It is still a marvel to me how it is possible for us to go through so much food, as little as Mary Ann eats.  A few items on the list always seem to grow to a basket full.

After supper (Mary’s pork, dressing and gravy), Mary Ann watched television for a while, went to bed, got up again to watch some more televison in the living room, then returned to bed, where at the moment she seems settled.

In between lunch and the grocery, we drove up to Cedar Crest, and while Mary Ann sat in the car, I took about a mile long walk.  That is the first time I have walked for exercise since before the trip to Hot Springs.

My excuses for not keeping up with the exercise walking that began a few weeks ago are legion:

First, there was a break in the pattern that had developed.  The trip to Hot Springs was the first break — about a week.  Then came the hospital stay.  The walking was beginning to take on the character of a habit before the break.

Then, the hospital stay wore us both out.  I was pretty tired when we got home.  Mary Ann was dealing with such confusion and a lower level of functionality pretty much precluding my leaving her to walk.

Those first days back from the hospital, she slept pretty much all day long every day.  I couldn’t leave the house for a moment while she was sleeping.

After a while, she was and still is often getting up pretty early in the morning.  Before the trip she was doing so well that I felt comfortable walking for about a half hour before she got up for the day.  I always made sure she had gone to the bathroom, and I put the Lifeline button around her neck.  When she gets up early, walking is not an option.

When Volunteers have come recently, once I did take a walk.  The other times, the weather has been bad, or I just decided I was too tired to do it.

The last few weeks after the hospital stay have seemed especially stressful.  That is my excuse for returning to eating endless snacks to provide a treat, or just give me something to do to self-medicate.

It is true that working out times to walk has been more difficult in these past weeks.  The trouble with that truth is that it is not the only truth in this situation.  I am a resourceful person.  With enough commitment and will power, I should be able to figure out how to get regular exercise.

And, of course, no one is shoving the food into my mouth.   If there will be food in the house or food on the table, I am the one who will put it there.  It is not as if I have no choice about what ends up on that table.

My excuse relative to food, is that I am trying to give Mary Ann things she likes and she needs lots of calories.  Of course, I do not have to eat the same thing she is eating.  It is my choice.

I have cancelled, at least for the moment, the exercise and weight control program at the exercise therapy clinic that I was going to begin after the trip.  After the hospital stay, Mary Ann was doing so badly for a while that I didn’t think it would work to try to have her with me, sitting in on an exercise class.

Mary Ann is enough better that I should be reconsidering starting that program.  Now with the holidays looming, that excuse has kept me from making the call to set the appointment.

Under the best of circumstances it is hard to develop and maintain a good set of self-care disciplines.  We are not in the best of circumstances.  All sorts of excuses to avoid good eating and exercise habits are readily available.  The irony, of course, is that good eating habits and good exercise habits translate directly into feeling better and being better able to do the task of Caregiving.  Sometimes we are our own worst enemies.

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I knew it would happen!  It was not a disaster, just inconvenient timing.  In the middle of the prayers in the Evening Service at church tonight, Mary Ann whispered, “I need to go to the bathroom.”  That she did not wait for a more opportune moment to say something made clear to me immediately that we were not talking about a minor matter.

I have seen the dark cloud gathering the last three days as there was virtually no intestinal activity.  I know, are we never happy?  In some recent posts I have mentioned the bit of something close to diarrhea that came after the hospital stay.  That stopped and Mary Ann started eating better.  It was not rocket science to figure out that at some point, three days of eating well and producing little would at some point produce a lot.

At certain points in the prayers tonight, when information on the next petition request was being gathered, I moved to the lobby area, got the wheel chair and returned to the pew.  As soon as the prayers were done, a seemingly interminable length of time, I got Mary Ann into the chair, and we burned rubber taking off to get to the women’s rest room.  Mary (who schedules the Volunteers from church for Mary Ann) was available and willing to guard the door to the restroom.

While we were in the the women’s room together, Mary Ann can’t deal with that particular matter by herself, a number of ladies needed to be turned away.  Gratefully there are rest rooms on the lower level also.  One person was in such need that she headed into the men’s room while Mary watched the door for her.

Actually, I had anticipated this problem earlier in the day. As the dark cloud loomed, I expected two or three days of work getting the job done.  I thought it might begin soon, so I added a package of flushable wipes to the contents of Mary Ann’s purse when we left for church this evening.

The time at church began with a Thanksgiving dinner provided by our Junior Youth program.  The food was great.  The two youth at our table, Trina and Makynna, did a great job of serving. They also participated in the table conversation, noting afterward that the two men at the table seemed to do all the talking.  Eddie and I just have lots of things that we are convinced need to be said!

The meal was followed by the worship service.  I thought that being out for such a long time this afternoon/evening would increase the likelihood of her intestines becoming active.  As inconvenient as was the timing and how long it took, the activity seems to point to a return to more normal and regular production. That is a good thing.

Those of you who are Caregivers can appreciate the observation that intestines rule.  One of the main reasons we make virtually no commitments that can’t pretty easily be cancelled at the last minute is the unknown of when intestinal activity will happen.  One of the earliest posts I wrote last winter described one of the areas of responsibility in a Caregiver’s portfolio as waste management.

I guess the counsel for Caregivers is that we learn to take in stride the duties that  come with the the role of Waste Manager.   We may as well concede that the colon has been crowned king.  Otherwise we will squander precious time being frustrated, grumpy and feeling sorry for ourselves. I suspect we have already spent enough of the few days we have on such self-defeating pursuits.

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Today was a good day in most respects.  Mary Ann got up, ate, took pills and got dressed in anticipation of Volunteer Jan’s arrival.  Jan did her hair and nails, a real treat.  Mary Ann had eaten a good breakfast with some help.  Around noon she ate a half sandwich, chips, Pepsi, and large and tasty chocolate chip cookie that Jan had brought.

Mary Ann was up all day, watching football — her choice.  The Chief’s won!!! She was awake and mobile enough for us to go to the Evening Service at 6pm.  She ate a little supper before church and headed to bed shortly after church.

This was pretty much a normal day even by pre-hospital standards.  So far it appears that our new normal will include a little less mobility.  Eating by herself was a challenge before the hospital stay.  She now needs help much more often than before.  Walking unaided seems to be less of an option now.  It seems as if in most other areas, we are back to pre-hospital stay levels.  That is pretty encouraging.  I won’t deny that the last couple of weeks have been scary and stressful, with lots of fears about the possibility of not regaining any of what had been lost.

Maybe it was the barometer change today, but my time away this morning was not so refreshing as usual.  The rain did not allow the long walk that releases the mood-lifting endorphins.  I sat in the car enjoying the peacefulness of the rain at the lake, listening to a CD.  The Taizé Music seemed to open a certain vulnerability to thoughts and feelings that usually don’t have the time or space for attention with the moment by moment demands of the caregiving.

I am embarrassed at the self-centeredness of the thinking, but I have never pretended to be perfect — far from it.  I began thinking of who I am as an individual, separate from my role.  I thought of all sorts of things I have not yet experienced in life, things that most likely will never come to be.  I am not absolutely sure that I would really do some of them even if I had the chance.  That is why I titled this post “imagined Possibilities.”

Imagined Possibilities:

  • Singing with an Early Music vocal ensemble.
  • Spending a week of study and reflection at Holden Village.
  • Hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail.
  • Birding in New Zealand, hiking to see some of the waterfalls.
  • Seeing the Snowy Mountain region of Australia, visiting each part of that huge country.
  • Visiting Cornwall England and searching out my Father’s ancestral home there.
  • Visiting County Cork Ireland, from which my Paternal Grandmother came.
  • Heading off to Poland and Germany to see where my Mother was born (a German settlement in what is now Poland).
  • Spending time at the Taizé Community in France and singing the music, having a chance to serve as a Cantor.
  • Seeing some of the National Parks with my own eyes.
  • Going on Spiritual Formation retreats at various places in the US.
  • Probing with great minds the intersection of theology and Quantum Physics (at least listening and questioning).
  • Attending organ recitals and hearing great choirs and orchestras.

What is so selfish about all this, is that Mary Ann has lost the freedom to do so much more than have I.  This morning just opened a bit of sadness about what I might have imagined for myself.  I don’t know all the things that Mary Ann would like to have done.  Once I was asked where I would like to go if I could, and when I mentioned Australia, Mary Ann said she would like to do that too.  We have both talked about never having seen even the Grand Canyon.  We talked about going across Canada on a train, traveling to see the fall colors in New England.  We got to visit England and Northern Europe forty three years ago, and had talked about wanting to go back, especially to England.

I know intellectually, and most often viscerally, that life is lived wherever each of us is.  There is no need to be in some special, exotic place to live life to the full.  The grass certainly is not greener on the other side of the fence, as they say.  It was just a moment of imagined possibilities and some sadness at what will not be.  No matter what any of our circumstances are, all of us have things that are beyond our reach, things we cannot have or experience.  We can either face the loss of those imagined possibilities, grieve their loss and get on with life, or spend our precious moments stuck in self-pity.

I have the privilege of caring for someone I love.  There are so very many who would give anything to have that privilege.  I guess part of living this life to the full is allowing a moment of sadness into it.

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No, I do not subscribe to people having former lifetimes in other times in history.  Last evening I spent some time back in a part of my life that seems a distant memory even though it ended only sixteen months ago.  It is as if my forty years of ministry exists in a former lifetime.  There were feeling swirling around throughout the evening.

The fire happened three years ago.  I got a distressing phone call from the Rector of the Episcopal church, St. David’s, across the intersection from the church of which at that time I was the Senior Pastor.  I called Mary, who was willing and able to come over and stay with Mary Ann freeing me to rush over to check out our church and give Fr. Don some moral support.

It was arson.  The damage was extensive.  It was painful to see such an important place in the hearts and minds of so many people rendered uninhabitable in a few hours.  The vision of an elegant organ console charred and pipes melted, in a heap on the floor beneath the balcony is almost unbearable to those who have sung to that organ, whose spirits have been lifted by it for numbers of years.  I did not go in and see it.  I am remembering from the comments of some who did.

I had the privilege of being able on behalf of our congregation to offer support, a place to hold the first worship on the Sunday following the fire.  I will never forget that worship Service early in the afternoon, after our three morning services were concluded.  The church was packed with the members and friends of St. David’s Congregation.  There was a bond created that day that has since brought continuing joy to both our faith communities. The pattern of worship and the visual style of the worship rooms of the Lutheran and Episcopal traditions are virtually identical.  They felt at home in the worship space and we felt at home with the liturgy they used.

Last evening was three years later to the day in a journey that began in ashes and ended in celebration of an elegant and functional space for a faith community to live out their call to service.

When I arrived, the Nave was full.  There was space in a multipurpose room outfitted to allow us to participate fully in the service, though in a place far from the central worship space.  The feellings swirled.  There were some feelings at first, ones of which I am not proud, feelings that I was now relegated to a place far on the periphery of what had shared with my family a central place in my life.  I am grateful that my feelings moved away from feeling a loss of worth and value, to recognizing what the evening was about.  A community of people had taked a powerful hit and come out stronger that ever.  I got to touch their lives for a moment three years ago.  The night was about them and what had been and would be accomplished through them by the One we both serve.

Later in the evening there were some words of thanks that touched me deeply as Fr. Don acknowledged by name those people and faith communities who had supported them after the fire.

The contrast between the world in which I live now and the world in which I lived sixteen months ago is stark.  It was moving to be back in a liturgical setting with a large number of worshipers gathered, listening to and singing with a pipe organ, instrumentalists and choir producing powerful sounds, singing loudly in the midst of the congregation.  The moment was a poignant one for me as the forty years of ministry with its hopes and intentions and dreams broke into my awareness.  Current circumstances in my life and the needs of the congregation from which I retired have converged to provide a clear separation from my former life in the ministry.

What settled in my mind and heart last night is that my goal has been to impact those I served in a positive way as our lives intersected for a time. Whether or not it is remembered is quite secondary.  My hope is that my ministry had a positive effect on most of those I served in the three parishes and the high school these last four decades.

Now my goal is to make a difference for good in the life of someone I love deeply, even though I don’t always show that love as clearly as I should.  So that I could attend St. David’s new building dedication last night I arranged for a person from Home Instead an agency that provides people trained to do Companion Care.  It will cost between $60 and $70 for that care for Mary Ann, but I felt I needed to be there for my own sake and to provide a formal presence for my former parish. Needless to say, it is not feasible to use agency care very often.  I am grateful to have an income at all in this economy, but a fixed income does demand care in how and when that income is used.

Mary Ann has been up for most of the day today.  Last night did not start out too well, but after a while, she settled and slept soundly.  She has had a reasonably good day.  She ate with only occasional help needed.  She napped in the morning for a couple of hours, but has been awake and sitting up most of the day.  There were two Volunteers here at different times.

She went to bed around 7pm (less than an hour from this writing), and she is awake now watching her beloved NCIS repeat episodes.  It would be a wonderful experience to have a sleep-filled night tonight.  Time will reveal whether or not that comes to be.

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It was a night from Hell.  We have plenty of them.  I went to be early in hopes that my presence would help her sleep.  Not so.  She wanted to go home more than once.  Often she would get up and when I asked, admit that she didn’t know why she had gotten up.  Once she woke up and said she had swallowed a snake.  I have no idea from where that thought came.

It went on through the night.  Once there were only seven minutes between times of getting up with some need.  The next one was twelve minutes.  Then came a couple about twenty minutes apart.  I am just tired enough that I went back to sleep during each of those short times, only to be wakened again.  I am not sure what words to say to communicate the level of frustration with that behavior.

One of the times she got up, she agreed to go to the table and eat some applesauce.  We started toward the dining room, and soon it was apparent that she just couldn’t walk well enough to make it there.  I asked her not to move, while I ran a few feet to get the transfer chair.  Of course she fell.  My level of frustration was enough that while I was complaining about her not staying still, instead of patiently working out how to get her off the floor in a way that was safe for me and her, I just picked her up off the floor and seated her in the chair.  Yes, she is only a little over 120 pounds.  No, a small 66 year old man with a family history of back issues should not try to pick up someone from the floor, someone who is not able to help in the process, essentially dead weight.

While it hurts, at the moment (six or seven hours later), it is not excruciating.  I am hoping only minor damage was done and that Advil, ice and a call to Chiropractor Tim will eventually take care of it.

Last night, all I wanted was for her to go to sleep!  She got up early again.  I just insisted that she stay in bed so that I could get another hour of sleep.  Gratefully, she did stay in bed for a while.

When she got up, things were pretty difficult.  I, of course, was not in a very pleasant frame of mind having been up and down every few minutes during most of the night.  She was able to get some of her food eaten by herself.  After breakfast she sat by the television in her PJ’s.  She was in popping up mode.  While at the moment, she is not fainting, her weakness and balance are making her vulnerable to falls.  I got a phone call.  Just as I got into the conversation, she hopped up and headed across the room.  I was frustrated by the timing of it, but after determining it was a bathroom need that precipitated it, I got off the phone and got her into the bathroom and seated.

I have not mentioned this much in the last three days, but there has been intestinal activity verging on diarrhea.  Sunday morning when I was gone, she had some major activity.  That activity required a later cleanup that involved removing the toilet seat, taking it to the large basin I had installed in the basement storage area for things like this, soaking the toilet seat in water with lots of Clorox Bleach, scrubbing the hinges with a toothbrush, rinsing, drying, disinfecting the stool itself and replacing the toilet seat.  This is all taught in Caregiver school.

The good news is that the activity does not come often.  It is just takes some extra effort to keep her and whatever else clean.  We have dealt with much worse in this area.  This morning’s trip to the bathroom was not an easy one.

When she returned to the living room, the popping up continued.  She was almost always getting up to look around at the floor.  I don’t know exactly what she was seeing, but it was some sort of mess that needed cleaning up.  Just going into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal had to be done in short segments of time, often less than a minute in length so that I could check on her and get her seated again.

I had not yet gotten my morning shower.  I could not trust her to stay seated for the ten to fifteen minutes it takes for me to get ready.  She often agrees that she will stay seated, but pretty much does not do so.  I finally realized that the only way I was going to get ready myself, would be for her to be napping.

There is such an conflict of wants and needs that converge on this simple process.  I want her to stay awake during the day and sleep at night.  I want her to be sleeping even during the day so that I am not dealing with the popping up, the constant needs, the hallucinations, not knowing what will come next.  I should keep her up in the daytime, but when she moves into her need-for-sleep mode, she ends up hanging her head and sleeping in her chair, if not in her bed. There is a sense of relief when she is sleeping during the daytime hours, but a dread for the horribly frustrating nights that come when she can’t sleep then.

I suppose I could sleep during the day while she is sleeping.  I don’t want to shift days and nights for both of us.  I want to be tired enough at bed time that I can go to bed and sleep, if she will allow it.  When she is asleep, I have the freedom to do things that nurture my own well-being both for my own sake and so that I don’t lose the capacity to care for her.  These posts have been long and detailed lately because she is sleeping enough during the day that I am free to write.  These posts have been long and detailed these last days since we are almost entirely homebound now and the task is frustrating enough that I need the outlet of writing these posts as therapy.

Then there is the question, how is Mary Ann dealing with this new place in our experience.  She is stuck with the frustration of not having the mobility and mental acuity she has had, and she is stuck with Grumpy Caregiver who gets frustrated with things she cannot control.  She vacillates between days when she is exhausted and just wants to sleep, and nights when she can’t sleep, wants to be up while the person on whom she depends is scolding her and insisting she stay in bed.  She needs food but often not what is in front of her.  She hates the feeling of needing to be fed but often needs to be fed.  She wants to do things for herself but is constantly being asked to sit down, being reminded that she can’t do them.

I wish I were better at this caregiving task.  On the positive side, I think that most of the time I act in ways that are caring and helpful and affirming of who she is.  I try to treat her with respect, recognizing that my words are not always respectful when I am frustrated with some difficult behavior that seems still to be under her control (probably most often a result of the disease more than her willfulness).  I work hard at keeping her neat, hair washed, dressed appropriately, the house in order, beds made, kitchen in order.  I work very hard at determining what she needs or wants and if it is possible, trying to provide whatever it is.  With that said, in fairness, my assessment is based on who I want to be, not necessarily who I am in her eyes.  In the area of this sort of self-awareness, my propensity to feel guilty when I have been unkind provides some internal metrics.  My self-centeredness drives me to do things that allow me to feel good about myself.  My batting average in that task is probably just that, painfully average.

Back to our day: When med time came after she had been sleeping for a couple of hours, I decided not to make yesterday’s mistake.  After I took her to the bathroom, she stayed up for us to head to Glory Day’s Pizza to bring a couple of slices home for her (lunch and supper).  Her mobility was very poor, and she still would not open her eyes, so the trip out to the car and back afterward was pretty difficult.

She insisted on eating the slice of pizza without help.  She only managed to eat the topping (cheese only) from a little more than half of the one piece.  Then she was done.  After refusing once, she finally agreed to a dish of ice cream.  She is about five pounds lighter on our scale than she was the last time she weighed herself before the trip and the hospital.  She has been eating so little it is no wonder.  When I took her to the bathroom after the pizza, as I was getting her clothes down so that she could sit on the stool, she stopped me, asking what I was doing.  She thought we were still in the dining room.

At about 4:45pm, she wanted to get her bed clothes on and get into bed. She got up again when a paid worker from Home Instead to stay for a few hours while I honored a commitment that was important to me.   She was still up when I returned and went to bed at about 9:30pm.  Let’s hope for some sleep tonight.

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Finally!  We came home around 3:30pm today.  While the staff at the hospital was wonderful, and Mary Ann had excellent care, the dementia has increased dramatically.  Physically, she is fine.  We are back to normal, riding the margin between heart issues and Autonomic Nnervous System issues (fainting due to sudden drops in blood pressure).  It is not, of course, where we would choose to be if we had a choice, it is just what is so.

From the very first sleepless night, the first night we were there, the decline has been steady.  Last night was terribly difficult.  I put up the rails on the bed so that she would not get up and try to walk by herself on a very slippery, very hard floor.  She just could not accept that the catheter allowed her to stay in bed rather than head to the bathroom.  She saw people and animals and messes here and there.  Today she described in detail a busy cluster of bees on the floor at some time during the night.

I sat beside her on her bed for fifteen minutes to a half hour a number of times during the night.  At one point when she was awake, in the middle of the night, I checked my watch to see how much time there was between the need for me to get up and respond to her or help her.  The time was usually between ninety seconds and two minutes.

I realized that if we were required to stay another night, I would need to arrange for a paid companion so that I could get some sleep.  The constant nighttime needs are more than I can handle and remain rational, patient and helpful, after just two or three nights like last night.

Talking with the doctors helped clarify just how important it was to get back home to a stable routine and familiar setting.  They agreed that the additional tests being considered would not serve any real purpose.

While there were differing opinions by the two doctors and the Physician’s Assistant, two out of three felt that there was no compelling reason to expect more vulnerability to Congestive Heart Failure than there has been since the first bout five years ago.  We are going to return to our pattern of life to the degree the dementia will allow.

Mary Ann decided to go to bed at 5:30pm this evening. She has been up and down a a few times already.  Of course, I won’t know how tonight will go until morning.

I had mentioned in passing to one of the nurses that I appreciated having all the folks at the hospital with the care recognizing that Mary Ann and I would pretty much be on our own to deal with the aftermath when we got home.  I suspect she mentioned it to the Social Worker at the hospital who came in to talk with me before we left.  It is the norm that a Hospital Social Worker will check to see what if any needs there might be when a patient goes home.  This time the questions indicated some extra effort at listening to our situation.

The Social Worker mentioned that the nurses had spoken well of the care being provided Mary Ann.  Since I am no longer in a role that provides opportunity for external validation it was especially meaningful to hear those words of affirmation.  The Social Worker seemed to feel very good about the support system we have, from family and the congregation.  She sees folks who have little or no support as they try to care for a Loved One.

The day tomorrow is a full Wednesday.  It will be interesting to see how Mary Ann does with all that will go on.  I am going to continue our activities based on the assumption that alertness and the ability to track will return and the hallucinations will diminish. It that improvement does not come, we will adapt.  It is what we do.

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.