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Showing posts from 2015

Operation ILYMT

Yesterday I had the house to myself for a couple of hours. My kind of "pause!" I spent the time reading the daily love notes my daughter and I had exchanged in 2015. Yup, we committed to writing everyday and with the minor exception of a few days here or there, we accomplished our goal. It took me almost an hour to read them all. It was the perfect way to end the year. After reading, I decided to write about the project, which I named Operation I Love You More Than ... (ILYMT). For the next hour, I wrote. Sometimes writing is a chore. Sometimes when the words flow almost without thinking, writing is easy peesy. That's how it was for me yesterday. I was very pleased with the way the whole post read and looked, so I pushed the publish button. Let me re-phrase that. I pushed what I thought was the publish button. Then I went about closing out a bunch of windows that I no longer needed. This included a partial post of said article. Click went the delete button. I didn'

Waiting

"When you wash your hands when you make a cup of coffee, when you're waiting for the elevator - instead of indulging in thinking, these are all opportunities for being there as a still, alert presence." Eckhart Tolle I thought I'd put my word into practice today. Actually, I was waiting in a small room for my doctor to give me the results of a recent MRI and getting pissed off that the wait was so long. About 20 minutes into the wait, I closed my phone and told myself this was the perfect time to sit with the stillness and see what comes of it. I lasted about 5 minutes. There's only so much going on in an orthopedic office to take note of - really old magazines, diagrams of vertebrae and labeled pictures of all the bones in the human body, a computer, two pens on the desk, and nurses laughing outside the door. I checked my phone a couple more times before opening up the door and letting the laughers no I was getting antsy. "I've got you

My Word for 2016

Before deciding on my word for 2016 I spent some time with my 2015 word - threshold. For the first few months of the year, it was everything one would want a defining word to be. It motivated me to paint my front door and sweep away the cobwebs. I contemplated the threshold between earthly things and spiritual places. I looked for thin places. Like opening a brand new book, with the pages crisp and clean, I eagerly anticipated that first step you take when crossing into a new place, endeavor, adventure. Then, as it has a way of doing, life intervened and thresholds became less fascinating. One step was pretty much like every other step.  Halfway through the year, I stepped down on un-solid ground and broke my ankle in three places. Talk about new thresholds - a ride in an ambulance, pain like I've never known before, surgery, letting go of control, becoming a care receiver instead of a caregiver, learning to walk again. Needless to say, I pretty much had to hit the pause button

Groundhog Day

I read along as I listened to the author read this article on OnBeing this morning. First of all let me say, I love the OnBeing newsletter. I also love word pictures that paint a picture that you can see as well read. This article is one of those.  It's not that long, please go check it out. I'll wait. The article called up a fear I didn't realize I even had. A little niggling something in the back of my brain that peeks out now and then, but never becomes full-blown "Yikes!" kind of fear.* "I stop and sit each time, pulled to the window. I pause to listen and imagine the scene as the music sweeps into each corner of their home — over the graying couch in the sitting room, over the mounted family photos, over the beautiful open Bible on a wooden stand. Our elderly neighbor plays faithfully, the notes an affirmation of presence, a victory of joy, a connection maintained." It was difficult when the doctor first diagnosed Sweetie with ALZ to wrap ou

My Two Cents

Silence; though not absolute, surrounds me. As Buddy moves I hear his tags rattle on his collar. The fan makes a slight wind rushing noise as it cools my office. The sound of the keys as I strike them on the computer. The computer itself adds a slight hum sound as it works. I could/should mention the whirring, clacking pop and whistle of my brain as I work at this blog post. Oh those wonderful noises in my head. Buddy has grown from a 5 pound puppy to just at 50 lbs. No longer a lap dog but he does still try. He is in training now for basic skills; sit stay, lay down. pay attention and so on. We are at week 4 of 8 and Buddy seems to like being in class. Of course he is the teachers pet/star of the class. We're working on leash training and his potty alerts. He is pretty good with that and hopefully it will be sooner than later that we con count on him 100% of the time to let us know he needs to go out. Mary has recovered from her broken ankle enough to walk without the aid of a c

Epiphany

( I listened to a webinar last night about how to write a best selling book. The commentater, Jerry Jenkins of the Left Behing series, warned against start with the back story. That's when I realized I always start with the back story. There you have it, why I'll probably never write a best seller.) A woman I was good friends with back in the the 80's passed away on Monday. I'd only recently re-connected with her. For twenty years we lived in the same city but never crossed paths. I saw something about her on FB and sent her a message.  In "before I broke my ankle days" we met for lunch and to get reacquainted. We spent close to three hours talking about our lives, our kids, our grandkids, our illnesses. There were so many blanks to fill in. We also retraced our steps to those days when we were Navy wives whose husbands were deployed for months at a time. That was before the Internet, email, cell phones, and social media.  The only contact we had with our

Gentle On My Mind

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Sweetie was in his office the other night so I had complete control over the remote. I spend more time scrolling through Netflix than I do watching a movie. I decided to watch the documentary about Glen Campbell and his life with Alzheimer's Disease. I'm still trying to figure out if it was informative or more like watching a traffic accident. You don't want to see what happens, but you can't keep your eyes away from the horror. Maybe horror is too strong a word. In many ways the movies was beautiful, touching and funny. But there's no getting around the fact that Glen Campbell is forgetting more than he's remembering (last year, I believe he was admitted to a memory care facility in Nashville). At the beginning of the movie, Glen and his wife, Kim, were sitting on a couch looking at family pictures."Who's that?" he'd ask. Then she'd tell him it was one of his children or another family member. I cried. I honestly cannot imagine doing t

Update

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With the numbers of people expected to get ALZ or other forms of dementia rising rapidly, there's a lot of research going on to find newer, better medications. Today Sweetie and I went to the Jacksonville Center for Clinical Research to register for a drug trial. 8 pages of medical information and half an hour of questioning later, he was turned down. One of the criteria that is hard/impossible to get around, is cancer. The patient needs to be 5 years cancer-free. Unfortunately, Sweetie has had two spots of melanoma. The latest just 2 years ago, so his participation was declined. With lots of trials coming down the pike, it could be that he'll be considered at another time. Before we left we talked to a friend from church who works there. With a strong faith, Amy talked about God's perfect timing that guides her life. Interesting how that works. Not much has changed since Sweetie's diagnosis in May.  His memory has not diminished to any noticeable degree. His mood is

Free At Last ... Well Sort of

It was just about this time 8 weeks ago, I fell and broke my ankle. That was 8 very long weeks of trying to maneuver around the house in a wheelchair that made it through doorways with no room to spare. Like an Indian's trail markers in a tree bound forest, my path(s) are noticeable by the ruts in the carpet, scratched wooden doors and chipped paint. The paint that we used to cover up the marks my father made with his electric wheelchair. On Saturday I felt like a sore was forming under the bandages so Dr. Sweetie unwrapped me. While it felt marvelous, let me tell you it wasn't pretty. From the knee down, my leg looked like what I imagine a mummy would look like if it's wrappings were removed. My first order of business was a long hot shower. I let the water run over me to loosen some of the dried, scaly skin. Then got a scrubber and carefully worked off all that I could. Once out of the shower I slathered my leg and foot with lotion, hoping that would help a little. Swe

Good News

Today marks the 4 week mark since my fall. 4 down. 4 more to go before my toes get to touch Mother Earth again. I can't exactly explain what the difference is, but I think my toes feel different. Maybe not so swollen. So numb. I take this as a sign of good things to come. My knee is still "asleep". On the ALZ front, we got some interesting information. Sweetie saw a new doctor (old doctor left). After the routine round of questions and memory tests, Dr. Huang said, in a way not quite as condescending as it sounds way, "you know, there's no definitive way to tell if a person has ALZ. No scans or tests tell the full story. If you want you can say you have dementia, not ALZ." Neither Sweetie nor I knew whether to feel comforted or bamboozled. You mean maybe Sweetie doesn't have ALZ and we've been depressed and angry for no reason? The thing is everything we've been told from day one is true. Sweetie has several conditions (diabetes, sleep

6:30 AM

Clang goes the cat dish. Mary throws off covers and fills the dish. She is just back in bed and a cat starts to vomit a sound we are familiar with, great. Now we are both up in bed looking for the cat. No Cat. "Is it Buddy" Mary asks? I'm out of bed and the end cover is lifted off the crate and sure enough, vomit on the pillow and cage end. I open the door and urge Buddy to come out. He sits there and yawns big at me. "Come out of there," I said in what I am sure was a very pleasant voice at 6:30  AM. Another yawn. Jack in door way, dog in crate. A stand off. Not really, Buddy has now reclined. Mary exits bed, in the wheel chair comes around to Buddy's crate. All sweetness and light she says "Buddy, kiss kiss kiss."  Buddy rolls his eyes and looks at both of us as if we are crazy. At 6:50 AM Mary and I look at each other, helpless in this stand off. OK, I reach in and tug on Buddy's collar. He does not resist and we are not headed down th

Quiet

I'm sitting in my recliner. Sweetie within arms reach sits in his. Buddy sleeps on my lap. The ceiling fan hums, stirring up stale air. I'm struck by the quiet, Tears fill my eyes. I relax into the stillness while it lasts. Shhh, Merry ME

Almost a month has passed.....

since last I sat down to blog, So let's see; Buddy has grown a lot, had some more shots and in general is getting better with toilet training. Mary has fallen, broke her ankle, is in a cast, and gets around the house with the aid of either a wheeled chair or walker contraption. The chair is the easier of the two. Healing seems to be a minor role to attitude. Not a surprise to know how much she dislikes being incapacitated. Can't keep her out of the kitchen or from doing things around the house which I can easily handle. The kindness of friends and neighbors is amazing. Food deliveries, visiting, get well cards, flowers, packages of goodies and books, Mary is well Loved. Looking into the refrigerator is heartening. I've never seen it so full. Nor have I ever had so many choices, friends and neighbors are great cook's. With everything available to us, we both have been eating less. Mary dining in her recliner, me at the kitchen table. Rationally I knew Mary was

Learning to Slow Down

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“Solitude is the soul’s holiday, an opportunity to stop doing for others  and to surprise and delight ourselves instead.” Katrina Kennison When I was a kid playgrounds had merry-go-rounds where you held onto a bar, ran around in a circle to get up speed, then jumped up on the spinner where you sat in a dizzying state as the wheel slowed down. You couldn't do much more than hold on. The point of the ride, was to do it over and over again, letting each spin fill you with a weird sense of freedom. Especially if an adult or big kid was doing the spinning. There were also times, as in life, you'd fall, legs splayed out behind you caught in the rut beneath the wheel, unless or until you let go of the bar. Then you limped home for a combo treatment of stinging, red mecuricome and a chocolate chip cookie. All of us have spent time on that metaphorical merry go round. Either by our own choosing or at the hands of a mad twirler with no sense that things were beginnin

George Couch, Hurt Ankles and ME

How old is one in the 2nd grade? 7? 8? My second grade teacher was Mrs. Burducks (I have no idea if that's how you spell it). At the end of the year we were all promoted, even Mrs. Burducks. My father was stationed at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, outside of Chicago, IL. The elementary school was in Waukegan, IL. I fell in love for the first time in my life while in the 2nd grade. George Couch. Granted, it's been many years and many loves since, but George stands out for a few reasons. He was lanky like me with blonde hair. He was funny. His goal for the school year was to buy me  rings for every finger and toe. Bubble gum rings. I still swoon at the idea. When you live on a Navy base, your life is pretty regulated. You play with Navy friends. You don't venture too far from home. If you were of dating age, you usually picked the son of a Navy family on the base. An officer's child. Enlisted men were not to considered. George Couch was from Waukegan

Mr. Holmes

Sweetie and I went to the movie today. Mr. Holmes starring Ian McKellen. It didn't take very long to figure out that the aging Sherlock had some severe cognitive deficiencies. In fact most of the movie was about him trying to remember a case he'd worked on. I leaned over to Sweetie and whispered, "I didn't know this movie was about memory loss." His response. "Who better to learn from than Ian McKellen." Good move. Good time. Too much popcorn. I give it two thumbs up, Merry ME

Crazy Days

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Buddy at the vet for the 2nd time in a week It's been kind of crazy around here lately. I guess I should have realized it would get that way before getting the puppy. How can one little pooch be as rambunctious as 101 Dalmatians? I think I've set a world record with the number of times I've said "potty, pee and poo" in one day. To make matters worse, we found out yesterday Buddy's got an intestinal thing going on.  Once we get that cleared up maybe the number of trips outside will be less frequent. I thought he was catching on. Running to me like the Purina Puppy Chow puppy, when he heard my kissing sounds. Loving the treats he gets for responding. Alas, now he's decided to do things in his own time and own way. This morning he actually turned his back on me to chew on bark as if to say, "yeah, yeah, I know it's potty time. I heard you the first time. I'll get to it when I'm ready." Perhaps we've bitten off more than we can

Be Your Best Self

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Yesterday I joined my sister, her husband, Sweetie, a passel of aspiring ballerinas and their mothers at a book signing by Misty Copeland. Copeland is the first African-American to be chosen as the principal dancer in the American Ballet Theater's 75 year history.  Let me just say she is as poised and beautiful in person as you would imagine. Photo by Michael Bondanza www. iamjaxphoto.com Most of the questions were from the students of a ballet academy started by a young woman who Copeland mentored for several years. Sadly, this woman suffered a career ending injury. All her energy these days is focused on encouraging young girls of color to dream the dreams Copeland must have had once. What should I do to be like you? asked one girl clothed in a black leotard and pink tights. "First of all, don't try to be like me, " advised Copeland. "Be your best self. Find a path that works for you." I love that advice. What a perfect thing to say to a girl, a

Never Say Never

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"Happiness is a warm puppy." Charles Shultz My father had several credos he lived by: Be prepared. You can never have to many flashlights. The best way to get over losing a dog is to get a new one as soon as possible. The month before he passed away his beloved Black Beauty's hind legs gave out. She was in so much pain, I did made the decision to euthanize her. The next day my father started talking up the pros of a new dog. He failed to see how much more work that would be for me. I didn't know Dad was so close to death, but I did know he was getting harder and harder to take care of. There was just no way I could handle the responsibility of a new dog so I put my foot down. Not something I did very often with my father. It was the right thing to do. But I still regret it.  Especially so because he would have loved Suzi Q.  About 6 months after Dad passed away Sweetie and I went to the Humane Society to look at a dog that had been advertised as a Germ

What, me worry.....

truth be told I do worry but not excessively. See post below. Any way. Here's a salute, hat's off and a hearty Thank You To John Ellington. John is Mary's son who has lived with us for some time. Recently I realized she and John were discussing dogs while both were looking on line at various offerings and pet rescue places. Then I heard a discussion with a breeder in Georgia over some puppies. Next thing I know John is in his truck going to Georgia to see this puppy. The next thing I know is Mary showing me a picture of a puppy in the front seat of John's truck which is returning home. There's a message "jack will melt when he sees this pup." Mary say's "he's a gift from John and will be your service dog." I was stunned. For about three seconds. WOW Holy S___T is this for real? And My Buddy Boy has been with us for just more than a week. He is ever so much smarter than John said he would be. He sits when told to to get a treat. Othe

Brain Pharts, memory lapses, stumblebum

Words - bless 'em, damn 'em. I know I keep forgetting words when speaking, then closing my eyes I go searching for them in the recesses of memory. what's new is getting my words tangled. tonight I told Mary I was going to go and shower. what came out was intelligible I repeated it, which came out right, but it was too late she asked what did you say before that? I repeated I am going to take a shower and left the kitchen. Mmmmmmmmmmmm. Memories - I've got plenty, but where exactly are the new ones going. There must be an Abyss hidden in the center of my brain where new thought becoming memories are meeting a cruel, untimely death. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Stumbling - My sure foot-ed-ness has abandoned me. A few weeks ago I was stepping out of the shower (wait is there a connection rearing it's ugly head here) and scrapping my foot across the sill landed face down in the bath room. No harm done, but shades of Luther. Did that rascal push me? I'm convinced this house is

In a Fog

I woke up this morning well before Mary. As usual, my first stop was bathroom then on to kitchen for coffee. That made I was on the computer following my routine through the various e-mails that come in over night. Realizing it was 9:45 I went to wake up Mary and we both prepared to leave for the hospital. I went to the garage, opened the garage door and as I was walking around to open the door I realized I felt small. Shorter. As if I were in a fog. At the hospital, we went up to the women's center on the second floor and signed in. A nurse came to take us back so Mary could do the pre-op prep. Suddenly the nurse stopped and said I would have to stay in the waiting room, she would get me when it was OK to join Mary. I panicked, I felt smaller still but I did what I was told. Finally we were in the pre-op room together. Mary  handed me her rings (I shrank some more.) The Dr. came in, he answered questions, explained about the procedure and going to sleep. Then the surgeon lady

The Sweet Life

I had lunch today with my writing buds. Buds is really not the right word. I think "lady" friends would be more appropriate. The first thing I noticed was how bright everyone looked. Summery. Like fresh fruit from the garden. Like a glass of raspberry lemonade. Like a Mason Jar filled with a bouquet of wildflowers. Like an azure blue lake in the late afternoon sun. Like a ladybug on a blade of green grass and strawberries on shortcake. Turquoise. White. Pink. Salmon. Green. Sparkly silver jewelry. Smiles. Hugs. Laughter. Ah, yes, sweet peals of laughter like fairy dust sprinkled amid friendly chatter. Fruit filled wine. Lemonade and tea. Salads galore - all the dressing on the side. Chilled glasses of water, dripping with condensation. Muffins to go. Concerned questions. New ideas. Plans for the future. Possible moves. Casa Katy. Grandchildren. Squirrels dining on juicy GA. peaches. Magic Mike 2. Vacations. Claire the Clairvoyant. Camp Broadway.

At times.......

.....I felt like a little lost child. Mom in hospital again, me sent to a relative somewhere. I got angry and left that all behind me at 17, knowing I would not have to deal with it ever again. (foolish me.) Pretty much, I looked out for me over the years just as I did when still a child. .....Mary felt like a little lost child too. Cowering in a corner, put down by her father, left un-protected by her mother. She grew up, left, raised a family, stood up for herself, reinvented herself and then came home to this house and spent 20+ years caring for mom, then dad. Tough duty. And now me. For over six years we lived here with dad and I felt it necessary to stand up for Mary in answer to her fathers constant badgering, and demands. He didn't like me taking his Mary away from him and only tolerated me here because without me Mary would not have returned. We left once and I engineered a return when I witnessed the pain Mary was in as well as her father. They both suffered greatly.