Have aliens come and stolen my Mary Ann, replacing her with with a look alike imposter???  She ate the whole thing!  Mary Ann ate the chicken salad that I made from scratch with my own culinary-challenged hands. 

On three or four different occasions in the last few days, I put a couple of spoonfuls of that home-made chicken salad on her plate.  It is shredded chicken (from the freezer, prepared by our Daughter Lisa when she was here), grapes, pecans, celery, Miracle Whip, some fresh dill and a little onion powder mixed together.   She ate every bit of it every time I put it on her plate.  Potato chips and Pepsi rounded out the meal each time. 

If that is not enough, when I listed the options for supper tonight, she chose the beef, potatoes and carrots I had cooked in the crock pot the other day — and she ate it!!!  Now do you understand why I have posited the alien imposter theory?

On another matter, last night I asked three questions of the people in the online Caregiver Spouses of those with Lewy Body Dementia: 

The first question was about Mary Ann’s hair.  It seemed as if there was more hair than usual coming out on the brush when washing and combing her hair recently.  I asked if others’ Loved Ones had experienced hair loss.  Some Loved Ones have lost their hair, with no explanation from their doctors.  Group members mentioned the dry air at this time of the year, stress, too much washing, thyroid problems, and Discoid Lupus Erythematosus (DLE).  Since the problem seems to have subsided, I suspect it was just a natural occurance with no long term implications.  Needless to say, I will pursue it if there is more evidence warranting it.   Mary Ann’s hair is thick and dark with some gray mixed in.  She routinely gets compliments on how nice it looks. 

The second question had to do with disinfecting items in need of washing.  At the risk of being indelicate (I have been painfully explicit many times before), when there is need for cleaning matter (euphemism) off clothing before putting it in with other wash, I use Clorox in the water in a downstair sink we had put in for such things.  The last time I used the Clorox to disinfect some clothing, it was new red plaid pajama bottoms from LLBean.  I moved very quickly in the task of putting the pj bottoms in the water, swishing them around to get all the matter off, then rinsing and squeezing a number of times to get the Clorox water out of them.  Needless to say, they magically turned from red plaid to pink plaid pajama bottoms.  The suggestions from the group included OxiClean and Vinegar.  After some checking, it appears that OxiClean may and Vinegar certainly does disinfect pretty well.  I will probably substitute a 5% vinegar solution for the Clorox water when this need arises again. 

The third question had to do with disposable underwear.  The latest marketing tool is to replace unisex disposables with disposables specifically for men and for women.  The problem is that the women’s are made to be more comfortable for daytime use by enlarging the leg holes.  The net result is that  while they may be fine when up and walking, they leak badly if there happens to be a daytime nap.  Daytime naps are routine for many who need disposables.  I asked the group for suggestions of disposables that work for them.  I have had no responses to that one yet.  I suspect one reason is that the vast majority of those in the online group are women caring for their husbands.  The needs in this area are gender specific. 

One other note concerns a member of the congregation that I served before retiring.  He has had Parkinson’s longer than Mary Ann, over thirty years.  He fell and ended up in the hospital.  He has a strep infection that is interfereing with the healing of the arm on which the skin was broken when he fell.  In Emailing back and forth with his Daughter, I noted that people in her Dad’s and Mary Ann’s circumstances live in a narrow margin of functionality.  This fall and infection are taking Norm to the Rehab Unit of a local nursing home for a while.  He has been declining for the past few weeks.  Apparently, the treatment for the infection is helping him regain much of what he has lost in the last six months.   

In a sense, we are living on the edge.  In reality, all of us are living on the edge.  Anything can happen at any time.  Those who are in circumstances like Norm’s and Mary Ann’s are just more aware of it.  We can choose to live in terror of what might happen, or we can just choose to live. 

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I am not completely sure why.  Some things are harder to accept than others.  There is one visual cue that removes all my ability to keep things in perspective.  It takes me right up to the edge of my ability to cope, and then pushes me over.

There she was, half way across the bathroom, walking with her pants around her ankles.  I had stepped out for only moments to give her some privacy.  On the way out, I asked her to please remember to push the button when she was done and reminded her not to get up until I arrived to help her get up.  She did neither.

That visual cue seems to release my deepest fears that the next fall will be the last one.  It surfaces every feeling of frustration that comes when her choices seem to fight against the very help I am trying to provide.  That visual cue pushes me over the outer edge the confidence that I can care for her here at the house until the end.

I got her dressed, put her on the bed, and had to leave the room for five or ten minutes to gather my composure and try to regain perspective. I wonder if part of my reaction is a safety valve blowing off steam to keep the boiler from exploding.  I wonder if it isn’t a grieving process going on that I ignore until something like that visual cue shatters my illusion of control.  I wonder if part of it is my refusal to admit to myself just how hard this is.

Yesterday morning when I went outside to clear the drive and sidewalk of snow for the Volunteer, she tried to get up from her chair, fell and took with her the table in front of her, knocked the computer monitor to the floor along with a cup with some juice in it and a number of other things on the two tables around her.  She was lying in a heap among all of it. Gratefully, as always, she was not hurt at all.  I was upset that I couldn’t so much as go outside to shovel the sidewalk without her getting up, creating the vulnerability for a fall.  Then I felt responsible.  While she couldn’t remember why she got up, I had not gotten her a new box of Kleenex, I had not gotten her fresh water, I had not taken the audio receiver with me outside so that I could hear the electronic doorbell, which she would not have pushed anyway.  I realized again how hard it is to anticipate every impulse need and provide for it so that there will be no need to get up.  It is hard to anticipate and cover every impulse need of another person — one who cannot tell you those needs in words.

She has been having a difficult time keeping things clear the last couple of days.  There are flashes of lucidity, but most of the time, it the hallucinations have continued, verbal communication has been virtually gone, and there have been times of great confusion.  At supper tonight, after working on the baked potato on her plate for a long time, mostly with her fingers, I asked if she saw the meat.  She said no.  A large piece of meatloaf was there on the plate right next to the potato she had been working on. She has often been in eyes closed mode.  She will be acting in every other respect as if she is doing things normally, except that her eyes are slammed shut tightly.  Often when that happens and I ask her to open her eyes, she will answer that she can’t.  I have learned how to walk her from one place to another when her eyes won’t open.

I just came back from the bedroom.  Mary Ann had gotten up on the side of the bed.  She was trying to pick up needles that were not there.  As we were sitting there, a couple of times she told someone to stop pulling on the quilt hanging on the wall a few feet away.  She asked we how soon we would be getting out of here.  Then she asked how we were going to get all the furniture back.  I asked if she was thinking that we were in a different place from our home and that the furniture had been moved here.  She said yes. Like Capgras Syndrome, this is a Delusional misidentification syndrome.

I just went back again.  This time she asked me to take the girls out of the bedroom.  When I asked if they were our Granddaughters, she said no.

At the same time, earlier today when I mentioned the library, she suggested that we eat lunch there.  Since we couldn’t find a parking place, we at at Bobo’s Drive-in.  At the library, she managed to pick out two books from the large print section. We had sundaes at G’s after the library.  When we got home she ended up wanting a nap.  After an hour and a half, after taking medicine and using the bathroom, I took her out to watch television.  She got up and headed back to the bedroom to nap some more.I had to wake her up for supper.

Back again. She is just having a terrible time accepting that it is night and time to be in bed.  She wanted to get dressed this time.  It is about 12:15am at the moment.

I have just been with her a few more times.  The last time included a snack and a paper towel to wipe up something that was not there.  It is about 1am now.  I am wondering how much of the night will be spent with the delusions and hallucinations.  Last night we were up quite a number of times.  There has been very little sleeping in happening in the last week or so.  The interrupted sleep is not helping the coping skills, nor is it helping the delusions and hallucinations.

I am going to edit this now and get to bed in hopes that my presence will help.  There is no good reason to hope it will help, but I am too tired to stay up any longer.  I guess interrupted sleep is better than no sleep.

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

I could hardly believe my eyes, but there they were.  Trees filled with American Bald Eagles and some Ospreys.  I counted.  There were between eighteen and twenty of them spread out in four different trees.  It was breath-taking.

They were gathered for a lunch of fish and fowl.  They were gathered not far from the spillway of a very large lake.  When the water comes through the spillway into the river, it brings with it fish.  The Eagles were fishing.  There were as many as four of them in the air at a time, dipping down to try to grab a fish.

There were also around 150 ducks of mixed variety gathered on the water in that same area.  The ducks were aware that they could make the banquet table just as easily as the fish.  It was actually comical to watch — probably not funny to the ducks.  When an Eagle got too close to one of the duck, the duck would do just that, duck.  It would pop underwater for a moment.

I was captivated with the scene for as much as an hour and a half while a Volunteer was at the house with Mary Ann.  This was not actually a day to be out and about.  We got a few inches of dry snow on top of the nine inches we got during the Christmas Eve blizzard.  It has been cold enough that all the snow is still here.  The streets melted some, but dry snow on top of refrozen melting ice made for some treacherous driving.

As I drove out to the lake and back, there were eight to ten cars in the median or off to the side in the ditch.  Many of the cars still had people in them.  When I left, I had intended on going to a couple of my favorite spots by the lake to check for birds.  I was dressed to be able to get out and walk if I chose to do so.  As I traveled there, it became clear that there would be a risk in getting off the main road on to areas that had not yet been cleared.  While a four-wheel drive vehicle would have made it more possible to get to those spots, there was something else that dominated my thinking.

Were I to slide off into a spot I could not get out of, there would be a long wait for help.  There were no other cars in on the roads around the lake.  I was making new tracks in some of the roads I was already traveling.  If I were tied up for any length of time waiting for help, it would complicate the day for Mary Ann and the Volunteer.  Any risks I take are not just about me.  They are about Mary Ann.  She cannot be by herself.  If I am not available to be with her, it would be no small task to keep her secure.  Gratefully, Mary (who schedules the Volunteers) would make phone calls until she found Volunteers to stay with Mary Ann.   Bad roads also impact Volunteers.  They are not necessarily able to get out with ease themselves.

As a result of those concerns, I was extremely cautious.  I found a spot on the road across the dam.  There is a great view from the top of the dam.  The spot was right above the spillway.  Snow was falling lightly, the sun was just a light spot in the clouds.  With the snow covering the ground it was very bright.  The panorama of frozen snow-covered lake on one side and the expansive view of the landscape through the lightly falling snow the other side was as beautiful as it was peaceful.

I listened to music as the car ran to keep me comfortable, and I watched the scene below.  The last of the music was some Russian Orthodox liturgical music.  It was as if I was in a bright white cathedral filled with the presence of God.  After so many days contained by the four walls of a small townhome, it was a wonderfully refreshing respite.

Mary Ann seemed to do pretty well today.  We watched the Kansas City Chiefs win, a rare treat.  Mary Ann went to bed fairly early, but she has been watching television while lying in bed for about two and a half hours now.  There is no sign of her going to sleep yet.

We chose to stay in tonight.  The weather is predicted to continue to be far colder than usual here.  The combination of the snow cover and temperatures heading to below zero later in the week are testing our mettle.  Our Northern Illinois roots help us from being completely intimidated, but what the wheel chair adds to the complexity of getting in and out of a car and in and out of parking lots and in and out of sometimes heavy and/or awkward doors with threshholds that can provide barriers others would never notice, all makes us think twice about going out in cold and snowy weather.

At least it looks pretty outside!

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Last night Mary Ann contiued her confusion.  While lying in bed, she asked about the group of people somewhere behind me or in her view in the living room — was it the Thursday group.  She asked if it was time to get up a couple of times, once at 9:20pm and again at 10:30pm.  She said something explaining what she was thinking, something that just did not compute, something about her relationship in location to others.   Once she got to sleep, she slept pretty soundly.

This morning, when she got up and was eating breakfast, I was looking through the Christmas card list.  I mentioned one couple at one point and she reminded me where they lived and that their daughter had twins.  These are folks with whom we have not interacted in decades, whom we remember mostly just at Christmas Card time.  I did not remember about the twins since it happened a year or so ago (I think).  Mary Ann asked about a former parishioner, whether or not she had died.  About a month ago she had gone into a Hospice House here, but had since stabilized and gone back to her Assisted Living apartment.  That Mary Ann remembered her situation was a surprise.  Mary Ann’s Bible Study about three weeks ago may have talked about it.   She said she wanted to go out to lunch today.   When I asked where we should go, she immediately said, “the Irish place.”   What a contrast to yesterday!  The place is called O’Dooley’s.  She always orders bangers and mash there.  Since she has never been an adventurous eater, it surprised me the first time she ordered it.  It actually is pretty straight forward, mild sausages and cheesy mashed potatoes. 

After an hour or so of alertness, she fell (while I was taking a shower), but as usual was not hurt at all.  After I finished showering, I got her back in the transfer chair — she fainted.  It was apparent that there had been some intestinal activity during or after the fall.  She became tired and asked to lie down.  There was some more intestinal activity and some major fainting on the stool.  She is now napping.  This was a particularly speedy trip down, up and down again on this roller coaster ride.

After her nap, we did go out to O’Dooley’s.  She had the Bangers and Mash.  I enjoyed the Portobella Mushroom sandwich with home made potato chips with a very tasty cheese dip and a Black and Tan (Guinness Stout and Bass Ale).   And I wonder why I am 25 pounds overweight.  When exactly is it that those New Year’s Resolutions go into effect?

What was sort of entertaining about the time at the restaurant was that when I asked the waitress if we had met, since she looked so familiar, she reminded me that during the five years she worked at G’s Frozen Yogurt she had often waited on us.  She remembered our usual order of two Turtle Sundaes, one in a larger cup so that Mary Ann could handle it better.  More reason for the extra twenty-five pounds.  It is still not fair that Mary Ann eats those good things and refuses to gain a pound.  That she brought half of her meal home and they didn’t even have to wash my plate since I licked it clean, might have something to do with that apparent lack of fairness. 

In addition to knowing the waitress, a young man from the kitchen caught me.  I recognized him as a former member of the parish I served before retiring.  He came over to the table, and we talked for quite a while, mostly about his future plans.  Both of the two were within a few years of high school.  It always pleases me when young people take the time to talk to us Geezers.  He also made a point of acknowledging Mary Ann by name as he left to get back to the kitchen.  That was a very thoughtful gesture, since so often someone in a wheelchair gets ignored.  Now that I think about it, I guess I am complicit in that problem, since I did not make a point of introducing him to Mary Ann. 

We rented some movies and watched one this afternoon.  After the Law and Order Marathon yesterday, I was grateful that we had been given a gift card at the local Family Video.  The movie was not very entertaining to us.  We were grateful when it was over.  Mary Ann was tracking well enough to recognize that she wasn’t impressed with the movie (“He’s Just Not That Into You”).  A customer in the video store had recommended it. 

Mary Ann went to bed very early again tonight.  I was in the living room when I heard the telltale thump of her falling to the floor.  She did not hurt herself, but she was pretty confused and seemed unable to come out with any words that made sense.  She was willing to lie back down and has been sleeping since.  That was about an hour ago.  By the way, she has had a stroke in the past.  This fall seemed like a pretty ordinary one.  The confusion afterward did not include the kind of speech pattern that is a telltale sign of a stroke.  She had no weakness on one side of her body.  Of course there are no guarantees since the range of some of her reactions often overlaps stroke symptoms.  We live in a narrow range of functionality.  There is a vulnerabilty we have just learned to live with.  Most folks who have lived very long are not unfamiliar with that vulnerability.

One especially pleasant phone call was one from Mary, who schedules Mary Ann’s Volunteers.  There are already ten slots filled for January, beginning tomorrow morning.  Those slots vary from two to three hours in length.  The weather may interfere with those visits, but it is a help to both Mary Ann and me that they are scheduled.  We have not had much time away from one another in the past week or so due to the blizzard and its aftermath. 

The ride the last couple of days has taken us up and down with rapid changes between the up and the down.  We continue to hang on for dear life during the down times and celebrate the up times. 

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.

Another day in the cabin.  I thought we would try the Evening Service at church tonight, but King Colon, a high blood pressure headache, and an unwillingness to tackle the cold and the wheelchair on ice and snow while trying to get into church all combined to change our minds. 

Today was a better day.  One reason was that I made a pot of strong coffee to feed my caffeine addiction.  Yesterday, some stomach discomfort interfered with the coffee intake.  Another reason the day went better was that we had a morning visitation.   It was nothing supernatural, but it was uplifting.  Don, Edie and Daughter Gretchen surprised us with a visit.  They were bearing gifts, Gretchen’s soup (very tasty and very filling), cookies from church (made by the Deacon who preached and his family), and some other cookies, bundt cake and muffins.  The food and the conversation helped stimulate a more positive atmosphere in our cabin. 

The other reason the day was a bit better was that I got outside, shoveled snow and scraped ice, stimulating my brain with endorphins.  Having grown up in Northern Illinois, I am not unfamiliar with such things.  Actually, I have an unpublished goal of having the first completely cleared and dry (down to the cement) driveway in the subdivision.  I was disappointed that I did not find the energy to get it done right away, but the wind and blowing snow made it almost impossible.

The Homes Association had used a bobcat to clear the worst of the snow from the drive, but there was a layer that was packed down by the treads of the bobcat, and then blowing snow added a couple of inches more.   At least looking from my drive, it appeared that no one else was down to cement either yet this morning. 

I began shoveling.  Some of the drifts at the edge of the driveway were pretty tall.  I paced myself as I worked on the drive.  Every time I lost my footing for a bit, I thought about the consequences of my falling and cracking my head.  Then, of course, the thought of all those older men who had heart attacks while shoveling snow came to mind.  When the next door neighbor came out for a moment on the way to her car, she encouraged me to leave the task for the sun to accomplish in coming days.  I assured her that I would be careful.  I told her that if I was foolish enough to over-exert and had a heart attack, my children would summarily finish the job, all the while asking me what I thought I was doing out there shoveling snow.  They are fully aware of the challenge of dealing with their Mom’s illness if anything were to happen to me.  They would not hesitate for a moment to do whatever is necessary, but given their own obligations to spouse and children, it would be a challenge of monumental proportions. 

After shoveling the snow, there was, of course a layer of ice to be dealt with.  I am very proud of my method for dealing with an ice covered driveway.  First, I have an ice scraper just like the one we used regularly when I was growing up in Aurora, Illinois.  It is the perfect tool for loosening the ice so that it can easily be removed.  Second, I have the secret knowledge.  Removing ice has nothing to do with temperature.  It is all about color!  More accurately, it is about dark color.  

Even on a cloudy day, there is a certain amount of sunlight that reaches the surface of the earth.  White repels it.  Dark absorbs it.  My goal is to get rid of as much pure white surface as possible and reveal or add as much dark surface as possible.  The snow is shoveled down to the top of the ice. The ice is dark.  The scraper is used to wherever there is an edge that it can be forced under without too much effort.  Then comes the kitty litter, the cheapest available.  It is sprinkled liberally over any ice remaining on the drive.  The sunlight warms the dark particles and they work their way through the ice.  The sunlight also warms the cement under the ice so that the ice does not stick to it.  Then scraping again and again whatever has been loosened, clears the cement with relatively little effort. 

Some ice remains, but it has kitty litter on it.  The sun and the wind should melt and evaporate what is left tomorrow in short order.  Understand, we have the advantage of the drive being fully exposed to the sun since it faces south and it is not shaded by trees. 

Added advantages to using kitty litter are that when it first goes on, it provides traction, reducing the likelihood of slipping, and it does no harm to the grass when the snow melts (at least I don’t think so).  The one negative is that it clings to shoes and tracks into the house when the shoes come in.  The trade off is worth it. 

I am continuing the online retreat.  Mary Ann napped twice today.  I used the time for the shoveling and scraping, but there was enough to do some more thinking about and recording of childhood experiences and their impact on my formation.  The mental snapshots of various moments in my childhood have elicited strong feelings, some pleasant and some very unsettling.  I witnessed a worker killed by the walls of a sewer repair ditch falling in on him.  There was a murder/suicide across the street.  A kitten was run over as I watched — another put down.  There was talk about our oldest brother who died on Christmas Eve when he was five years old.  His appendix had burst.  I simply could not ignore the concept of death.  My Rheumatic Fever shaped my self image as a buddy played a game of tag with me in which my touching anyone would give them Polio.  I sat out of gym classes and games at recess time. 

Those experiences forced me to come to terms with death fairly early in life.  My faith was powerfully reassuring.  I suppose the Rheumatic Fever experience gave me a certain level of compassion for the sick and those who feel themselves to be on the outside looking in.  A variety of experiences during those years produced feelings of guilt whether deserved or not.  It is a clear understanding of the Grace of God that emerged early on as I processed those experiences.

By the same token, there are wonderful memories of hours spent outside with the bugs and birds and tadpoles and weeds and grass and sunshine and puffy clouds and rain and wind.  There is no doubt that those experiences have programmed me to find peace and joy and satisfaction in the natural world. 

What I learned from those early experiences has certainly helped shape who I have become.  Mary Ann has not really been very forthcoming with stories of her early years.  Most of what I know about those years has come from listening to her talk with her three friends from Fifth Grade on.  I have little doubt the best stories about those years have been told outside of my hearing. 

So far, two days into the online retreat, I am glad to be doing it.  There have been two short Scripture readings so far.  Both have been very instructive in the process.  If you are interested, the following link will take you to the home page.  There can be found a link to the “Online Retreat.” http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/online.html

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.

What terrible thing have I done to anger the gods of cooking so??  Here is a quote from last night’s post: “As I have said far too often, I am out of my comfort zone when trying to cook.  That is why the Anniversary Dinner tomorrow is a carry-out special.  It does demand cooking the Prime Rib for an hour, and reheating the side dishes that came with it.  I should be able to handle that much, but who knows how it will come out.”  The last clause was prophetic.

Last night’s post also noted that the Honey Crunch Pecan Pie had sloshed a couple of times leaving pools of surgary filling on the bottom of the stove.  Why do I suspect that everyone reading this who has ever cooked already knows what happened this morning.  Here is the what I brought home from the Brick Oven Restaurant for our Anniversary Celebation dinner with three couples who drove over from Kansas City:  five pounds of Prime Rib, Baby Red Potato Cheese Bake, Tasso Corn Bake (a signature dish), Au Jus, Creamy Horse Radish & Dinner Rolls.

All I had to do was finish cooking the Prime Rib for an hour in the oven and reheat the side dishes in the microwave.  You know what happened when I turned the oven on to preheat it to 275 degrees.  Yes, the smoke started pouring out of the oven vent.  It wasn’t just a little bit of smoke, but thick smoke as in burning sugar.  Again, I had to pull out the sheet entitled “How to Cancel a False Alarm” just in case the smoke detector went off.

It is good that it was not seven degrees with a wind chill outside since I had to open every window in the kitchen, the front door, open the door to the garage (and open the garage door itself).  Of course, I had no choice but to put the Prime Rib into the smoking oven, since there would soon be eight of us sitting at the table intent on eating an Anniversary Dinner. One of the side dishes managed to bubble over in the microwave to add insult to injury.

Then there was the award-winning Honey Crunch Pecan Pie for dessert.  After all the challenges getting it cooked last night, it actually looked pretty good.  And, it would have been perfect if it were called Honey Crunch Pecan Upside Down Cobbler!!! It looked like it was done.  It didn’t jiggle when I moved it.  When I cut it and tried to get a piece out to put on the dessert plate, what ended up on the plate was a dark brown heap of goo with nuts in it and pieces of crust trailing through it. That piece and every one after it came out the same way.

We squirted Redi-Whip (the one that is cream, not oil) on each piece and ate our dessert.  There was some sympathy applause in the form of verbal commnets on how good it was.

I will admit publicly here that twice in the course of getting the rolls heated and in the basket, some of them fell on the floor.  I had just cleaned that floor with my Swiffer Wetjet mop shortly before the Kansas City Crew arrived.  I am sure it was completely sterile.  There were two different witnesses, one to each drop.  They each promised secrecy, each unaware of the other.  Needless to say they were both guys.  We grew up eating dirt on occasion — so what’s the deal?

The good news was that the Prime Rib was spectacular, the side dishes were each distinctive and wonderful tasting.  We had a great conversation, and in spite of looking less than appetizing, the Honey Crunch Pecan Upside Down Cobbler really tasted as good as would be expected for an award-winner.

Will I ever do such a thing again, invite people over for a meal at our house? Unless I can figure out what I did to anger the gods of cooking and atone for my sins, I think not.  Hold it!!! Our Son and Daughter, their Spouses and our Grandchildren will be arriving at our home Sunday late in the morning so that we can have Christmas Dinner together.  There will be nine people!  I am preparing that dinner!  Maybe they won’t read this post before Sunday.  Who knows what I can do to ham steaks, cheesy potatoes, grape salad, garden corn — and half of a Prime Rib roast left over from today (it was huge).

No, I will not be making Rosalie’s Honey Crunch Pecan Pie!!!! (I may, however have a large glass of the secret ingredient in that pie — check last night’s post.)

Mary Ann was quite subdued today.  She seemed very tired.  It was hard for her to get to sleep last night.  She seemed excited about today.  I am not sure if she engaged in conversation when I was out of the room, but it did not appear to me that she was very responsive and communicative.  She went to bed at 6:30pm after napping with her head on the table in front of her transfer chair for an hour or so before then.  I hope she perks up by Sunday when the kids are all here.

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If you have not heard “O Holy Night” sung by Kristen Watson, you have not heard “O Holy Night!”  Music has the power to break through defenses and touch us at the core of our being.  When trite or contrived or done badly, it has no power but to annoy.  When done well, with honesty and integrity, there is no defense that can repel its power to engage one’s spirit.

When Kristen sang “Gesu Bambino” there were no defenses left.  The last note with its quiet and gentle power, set the stage for “O Holy Night.”  Since retiring from the Pastoral Ministry, a combination of Caregiving demands and traveling to visit family have diminished dramatically the opportunities to attend the most powerful worship opportunities at Christmas.  Last night’s concert was an experience powerful enough to fill the spiritual longing that comes with each Christmas season.

What added to the deeply felt comfort was that I was able to sit with Mary Ann in the little raised area for those in wheelchairs.  My ticket was for a seat behind and a dozen feet away from Mary Ann. I couldn’t bring myself to sit down separated that far from Mary Ann.  It surprised me a little to feel so strongly the need to be next to her.  In the past, I have generally retreated into my own world at concerts, listening intently, immersed in the music.  Someone suggested the possibility, and I checked to be sure it was acceptable for me to sit in that area.  Companion Care Aide, Debbie, sat on the other side of Mary Ann.  As it turned out, there was no need for a trip to the bathroom during the concert.   All of us got to experience fully the entire program of music from silly to sacred.

There was a dimension to the evening that I did not fully anticipate.  Having retired from the role of Senior Pastor at the congregation I served for over a dozen years, I have not seen and talked with more than a handful of the members of that congregation since I retired a year and a half ago.  It was like a reunion.  It didn’t take long to realize how much I miss the people who had become a part of my life during those years.

There is an intimacy that develops between pastor and people that is hard to describe. The ministry is not as much a job as it is a relationship.  Certainly there are lots of other professions that include at least as strong a relational element.  I can only speak to the ministry, more specifically, my experience of it.  Last evening I redicovered how connected I came to feel to all those folks, and how much I have missed getting to interact, to talk and listen and kid around with people I care about.

The combination of celebrating a reunion of sorts as well as being lifted spiritually by the music made for a very good night out.  Mary Ann was greeted and engaged by many, and she too enjoyed the music.

After two days holed up in the warm house, protected against the elements (snow and bitter cold), we both needed the time out, distracted by something other than the television.

The change in the medicine mentioned in last night’s post seemed to have the hoped for consequences.  There was a return to a more normal level of intestinal activity almost immediately on discontinuing the generic Mestinon.  Today has been a fairly normal day.  Mary Ann got up early, then took a two and a half hour nap.  We got out to lunch at BoBo’s, headed to the Honda dealership for a quick minor repair of the CD player in the van, and visited the home of a friend, one of Mary Ann’s closest friends from almost the very first day we arrived here nearly fourteen years ago.

Tonight Mary Ann had some pain that needed a nitroglycerin pill.  Those are always scary moments, although not at all uncommon for folks with heart blockages such as Mary Ann’s.  The pain subsided after taking the pill.  She woke up a few moments ago and needed a trip to the commode.  The Thursday people are back.  She wanted to know what the next family was going to do.  She insisted on closing the bedroom door while she used the commode so that they could not see her.  I hope she is able to get back to sleep, and that she has a restful night.

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It is just too soon to tell.  Mary Ann is now taking two medicines to help control the fainting due to low blood pressure when standing (Orthostatic Hypotension).  One is the standard med prescribed to control the bouts with fainting, Midodrine.  The second is a medicine prescribed off-label for helping control the BP.

I just read a post on the online of Spouse Caregivers of those with Lewy Body Dementia.  That post had specifics about their larger dose of the new med.  I have been thinking lately just how helpful it has been to be a part of that online group.

The group is a place where those who are in the throes of very difficult caregiving can vent without judgment.  In fact the opposite of judgment comes.  There are words of acceptance, affirmation of the validity of the feelings of those venting. Everyone in the group understands the crazy ups and downs that come with this disease.

Reading the many hundreds of posts over the last year or two has helped me handle things that might have frustrated me more had I not known what to expect.  I knew not only from past experience but from the group that the aftermath of the hospital stay might be a problem.

We can ask one another how her/his Loved One reacted to a particular medicine or dosage of that med.  Even alternative medications can be discovered in the posts.  There are some who see a particular doctor at the Mayo Clinic who specializes in Lewy Body Dementia.

We can talk with one another about waste management issues without having any concern for speaking in an indelicate way.  There are things that can be shared there that would not be appropriate in a blog like this.  We can talk in ways that might scare those who were not going through this particular challenge.

One thing I have gained by reading those online posts is perspective on Mary Ann’s and my situation.  The struggles of some in the group are beyond imagination.   We are among those who have been dealing with Parkinson’s the longest, but others have been dealing with the dementia much longer than we have.  Not all the spouses have Parkinson’s, but all have some form of Lewy Body Dementia or a related diagnosis.  For some the dementia has reached the last stages, where we are in the mid-range of the usual progression of the disease.  With that said, the truth is, the disesase vacillates so dramatically, that most of us have seen earlier and later stages of the disease in our Loved One’s at various times – with no warning that a change for the better or for the worse was coming.

With the perspective of the reading those posts, I celebrate how much we are still able to do, the quality of life still available to us.

Mary Ann did reasonably well today.  We slept a little later this morning, a good thing for both of us.  The morning routine is pretty time consuming, leaving too short a time to allow us to participate in a morning filled with activity at church, including a Pancake Breakfast.  We did benefit from some leftovers brought over early in the afternoon.  When she was up in the morning before her nap, she was not at her best.  There were many times that she had her eyes tightly shut as we tried to walk to and from the bathroom.

Mary Ann actually ended up in bed late in the morning for a couple of hours of napping.  After eating some of the leftovers, we went out in the car for a while, ending up with ice cream.  Our first choice for ice cream this afternoon has gone out of business, Maggie Moo’s.  The format is the same as Coldstone Creamery, only with much better quality ice cream.  We ended up at Sonic.

She was pretty alert this afternoon, and headed to bed sometime around 7pm or 7:30pm.  She has been a little restless, but as always, I am hoping for a restful night for both of us.

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I am sure there are a variety of media folks trying to get a clear handle on the reasons for the continued success of the movie “The Blind Side.”  We saw it today.  It is the true story of an essentially homeless teenager, accepted into a family, finding his way to success on the football field.  Thematically, it seems to me like the story of Susan Boyle who has become a metaphor for a nobody being discovered to be a somebody.  It touches the longings in most of us to find fulfillment, to come into our own in a way that is clearly visible to others and, more importantly, to ourselves. I suppose it is the same reason that “The Man from Snowy River” has always struck a chord in me every one of the fifteen or so times I watched it in former years.

I am not really sure how Mary Ann felt about it.  Her comment at the end was, “Did we end up in the wrong movie again?”  The last time we went to a movie, she had gotten in her mind that there was another one we were going to see.  When I asked her what movie she thought we were going to, she referred to an interview this morning on the television with Robert DeNiro about a movie he is in.  I did not see that interview.  In both cases, I had only talked about going to the movie we saw, and had not at any point mentioned the other.  At best, communication is a difficult thing.  Since Mary Ann is not verbal, it is hard to know what she is thinking.  I talk enough that she needs to tune it out.  As a result, I can say one thing, and she can have something completely different in her mind.  It is hard to know how many of the miscues are simple communication problems and how many are precipitated by the dementia that has begun to show its face on occasion.

On another note, there is a dilemma emerging that impacts my role as a Caregiver.  In a matter of about 48 hours, I received three overtures that would ultimately involve commitments of time.  Committing time to something other than caring for Mary Ann is no small matter.  I have seen just how stressful it is to have time pressure enter the picture when Mary Ann’s needs come without warning, often demanding immediate attention.  I can’t count the times I have had to get off the phone or at least excuse myself for a moment, when Mary Ann popped up and headed toward the bathroom.

It became clear very soon after I retired, that I could not count on being able to keep commitments if I made them.  Every commitment had to have an easy way out, in case Mary Ann’s situation demanded my attention.   Even tasks that don’t have appointments to keep pretty tough to accomplish, since the tasks that come with the caregiving role, make it tough to get a long enough block of time free to concentrate on anything else.  Those who volunteer to spend time with Mary Ann have busy lives of their own.  There are not a large number available to cover multiple times for meetings or whatever.  The cost of using paid Companion Care from the Agency we sometimes use prohibits making many commitments.

If I add commitments that use up all the time covered with Volunteers, I may as well go back to work.  One reason I retired was that it was too hard to move between working and caregiving wtihout time for rest and renewal.

With all that said, there must be something else going on in my thinking, something of which I am not fully aware that has caused me not to immediately decline the overtures.  I have accepted one.  It allows a great deal of flexibility and is likely to be very satisfying.  It is simply providing a sounding board for a friend from a former time.  While I may decline the other overtures, I am actually considering them.  I know too little about them yet to actually make a decision.

I suspect that part of the reason I have not dismissed the overtures out of hand, is my need to feel useful outside of my caregiving duties.  It is challenging to realign my thinking and feeling to be able to feel fulfilled and valuable without external validation.  At a spiritual and intellectual level, I can find fulfillment without affirmation.  My insides, however, are not so mature and selfless. At the very least, it is nice to have been asked.

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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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