Category: Dementia

My Year In The Rearview

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As this year comes to a close, I have been stuck in my head thinking. I have been without my dear Pops for fifteen months now. The void he left difficult to fill. I feel ???… Everything has changed. I shop closer to home. I waste huge amounts of time in the guise of being tired after work. In reality I don’t have a clear idea on what I want to do with all this free time I now find myself with. My Pops always had a way of making me laugh or smile. I miss that. I still feel disconnected. How did I end up here? I feel like I have no sense of purpose. I have fallen out of love with the routines of my life. I am in a RUT, RuT, rUT, rUt…ERGH!!!

Lately, I feel like I am stuck in a sitcom from the 50s. The sameness of life, the lack of real JOY, no color, or maybe its more Pleasantville in style just before their awakening. I miss the innocence of youth. Trusting in the grown ups around my life that everything would indeed turn out okay. At some point in my coming of age I started to notice life wasn’t simple. Black and white really was a narrow way of thinking and living. Like the characters in Pleasantville I began to “live” in my surroundings, discover new and scary things about myself. I have come to understand, life is a series of successes and failings. What you do with those experiences is what makes life worth being a part of. I am not the same girl I was a short twenty years ago. I like to think I am a better person now.

I used to have a chip on my shoulder the size of a baseball mitt. I have always balked at authority. I hate to be told what to do. I have an vein of anger that runs just below my surface. It has caused me irreparable harm whenever I have wielded it in an attempt to get my way, or prove a point, or just to be an ass. I stomped about wanting to be left alone…life finally gave me what I always wanted and you know what? I was wrong! I know now that what I really craved was acceptance. I wanted to feel like I belonged to something, anything. I was seeking guidance.  My parents were too involved in their own messy lives; my sisters and I were left to figure shit out on our own. I hold my parents no ill will. They did the best they could to keep our family intact. My mother suffered with mental illness her whole life. Everyday was an adventure with her! Would today be a clothing optional day? Would we be play acting with the neighbors for pocket change so she could buy cigarettes? Would I find her at our local church crying to God in the hopes he would rescue her from being a housewife? Oh, the memories!

My Pops loved that crazy woman. His faith in her never wavered. I wonder how alone he must have felt? My Pops was old skool, never cry, never let them see you sweat. If he had resentment towards my mother I never knew it as a child. He only ever mentioned how bad things were sometimes after she had passed away, before his dementia turned her into a saint. He never gave up on her or any of his children. In my Pops eyes I could be anything I worked for, have anything I reached for, become something spectacular as humans go. I will find a way to keep working on a better version of myself because he never gave up gazing at his stars.

This past year there was very little sparkle. I am finally beginning to feel my age, with its wonderful assortment of aches, pains, and wrinkles. I will always have to be a WW. It holds me accountable for my bad food moods. I will not be taking anymore selfies. Every time I do I see this old woman looking back at me. She just does not match the beauty that lives in my soul. I will continue to sing even if no one hears me. It helps me to feel I have a reason to be. Every time I make a little kid smile or touch the heart of a person passing by, it makes me feel like I have a purpose. I do not like menopause… a roller coaster ride of screw you, my emotions taking me on a ride I am pretty sure I didn’t buy a ticket for. I am one of the lucky ones? no hot flashes, yet! I got heart palpitations instead! Oh JOY!

Hockey started up again this year as did my resentment for the amount of time it steals from me. In all honesty, because sometimes it is good for me to put my bullshit meter on pause, I have made some amazing friends at this frozen sport. I am trying to find something creative to do whilst hubby is preoccupied with his sport of choice. And by being creative I mean, stay away from the Booster Club table so I won’t eat my weight in anger. This should be an interesting ride!

I found my courage this year to adventure without my bestie by my side. No lies to be told. I missed her, terribly, but her children are at those ages where everything is drive them here, do this , do that, and adventuring just had no room in her busy life. I managed. I can now say that I have a small circle of women I enjoy going on adventures with = ) All because I took a chance and asked them if they would like to “hang out” with me.

Life is in the living. Good-bye 2017. Hello, to the mistakes I will make this year, to the adventures I will undertake, to whatever 2018 has in store for me. If I could take anything from the past year into the new year with me it would be Hope. She knows how to keep things light and filled with anticipation. I wish you  all the best things for 2018. Love the people in your life. Step out of your comfort zone. Embrace change.

Never Give Up On The Person You Are Meant To Be

The Comfort Zone…

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…and I how I escaped. On this crazy journey to the best version of myself I wandered a little from my path and entered  the comfort zone. That false plateau with the fluffy comfortable furniture and tasty snacks where nothing EVER seems to happen.padded cell Last year during this same stretch of September my beloved Pops passed away. I have struggled to stay on my path since. I will not give up. I absolutely refuse to go back to where I once was.

While dearest hubster and I enjoyed vacation earlier this month, I took the time to throw myself out of the comfortable place. I have been lounging in there for too long. It’s been a great party, Pity, but really you must be going now. Do you think I’ll ever learn? not to give into my darker side? I hope someday I will be stronger.

I am proud of myself; I am into my second completed week of going to the gym! {Enthusiastic cheer} and this morning I went with a friend to my very first Tai Chi class. I loved it! Thank you Christine = ) I left there feeling calmer, relaxed and refreshed. After class we took time to get in a two mile walk. Stress is an everyday life occurrence for people in all walks of life. Some days I handle it well, others not so much. For most of this week I was not in a good head space. I miss my Pops. It seems surreal to me that he has been gone for a year; I have struggled with a depression brought on by his passing and the void it left in my life.

I didn’t have things going on in my life to fill the space where he once was. I have spent most of the past year maintaining the weight I am currently enjoying. VICTORY! VICTORY! If you know me you have an idea how HUGE that is. My usual operating parameter is to go full on eat until my soul is numb and broken. I am just not interested in punishing myself anymore for feeling sad. I lost a wonderful human being. There will always be a void but it has gotten smaller because the sadness is slowly changing into peace and acceptance of the situation. I am different. I have changed. I want to be in my life even when it is ugly and uncomfortable.

It is time I return to myself and the things I find joy in. Wherever I go I take myself along. It’s time to put my grief in my pocket and test the world again.  I am most happy when I am honest about my feelings. I am most successful when I give myself permission to fail. I learn the most by never giving up.

Hands

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His hands were thick and stocky. The fingers twisted and knotted from a lifetime of physical labor. He carried each of his daughters with those hands. He threatened to end many a boys lives with those hands; just let one of those boys be foolish enough to harm his girls. Those hands dried tears and helped to wipe runny noses. Those hands were quick to unleash justice from the end of his belt even if his pants threatened to fall down. I miss those hands. When I was a little girl I used to like to watch my Dad’s hands as they worked. He ran a mean a shoe shine kit. I loved watching him fix his car or work on a project or when he let me watch him shave. I would sit quietly on the edge of the sink as my Pop prepped his face for a Sunday before church shave. Everyday before my Dad left for work he would use his electric shaver or a make quick run over his chops with a cheap disposable razor but Sundays were special. On Sundays my Dad went out of his way to be dressed in his absolute best. I miss the smell of Old Spice in the air.

My Dad would stand at the bathroom sink, while hot water filled the basin and he would tell me the stories of his Dad. How his father before him had a straight razor, a strop, a brush, and a mug with a cake of shaving soap. My Dad would wet his cupped hands in the basin drawing hot water up to his face. He’d grab the boar haired brush off its little stand and wet it in the sink. He would spin that brush over the surface of the cake in the mug until the lather spilled out over the edge and I could smell the fragrant soap in the air. He would make the funniest of faces while he dragged that soapy brush all over his face and neck. I was mesmerized by the act of shaving:   rinsing, shaving, lathering, shaving…
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I loved to watch my Dad make himself beautiful. When he was finished shaving he’d pour some Old Spice into his hands rub them together quickly and then give his face a few quick slaps. “Good for what ails you” he announced to no one in particular. If I was lucky he’d dab a little on my cheeks and send me on my way. I loved smelling like a hug from my Dad  It made me feel special. =  )

As a child I remember many nights when he came home from work tired, hungry and beaten by the crap of the day. There was always something more to do. Sound familiar? How he looked forward to the weekend. How we all look forward to the weekend, feelings lost on the foolishness of youth but cherished today for what they really mean to an adult.

Now I realize that I was making memories, then I was just loving my Dad for all of the things that made him special to me.

I miss you Pops.

In The Evening

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So it’s another Friday night, I am sitting in my office trying not to be distracted by the number of phone calls that are coming in to my landline (yes, I still have a landline) which are cold calls for crap that I will not buy or sign up for or be tricked into giving away info about myself or my sex habits or food preferences. Gone are “the good ole days” when my house phone would ring and there was an actual person on the other end of the line that I cared about. I only kept my landline for my Dad who was living with dementia. He lost many memories and was often very unsure about things around him but he KNEW my phone number. I was his lifeline from a better time. I kept that landline for him so he would always be able to find me. Sometimes life is about the small things that make us feel loved and safe.

I wish he could find me now. There are days in my life that I do not do well with:  May 15, June 9, June 11, September 28, October 12, January 30, February 6. My list used to be shorter but as I lose people in my life I find it growing. Like the last flower in a field I find myself turning against the wind, trying to be brave. Where have all the flowers gone? Where are the bees? I need to feel the warm of the sun on my face. I want to be embraced by the love that was once mine to have that I often ignored or mistreated.

I am oddly emotional this evening. I am tired. I do not want to adult today. Today I wanted to spend time with my Dad in the worst way but he had other plans. I am sad because I MISS THEM. The people in your life are your greatest gift, they know all of your secrets good, bad and scary and they choose to love you anyway. Cherish them.

A heartbeat…

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…that is all it takes. One heartbeat between life and death. He was a good man. He had a family. He loved the people in his life in the best possible way; by being there. This man was my Dad. I love him. He taught me to live, to be kind, to drive a car, change a tire, whistle like nobody’s business. All of the very best things that I am are because of him. He was my biggest fan and my most favorite companion. I get my singing talent from him. He loved a good laugh and horrible jokes. To me he will always be my SUPERHERO.

He could yodel and had a great Tarzan yell. He loved country (& Western) music and dabbled in turning a tune or two. He believed in a higher power and tried never to miss church. He was a good man. He had a wife and three daughters. He loved us with his whole being. My Dad never had much but was always ready to share what he could.

Over time my Dad lost many things, a daughter, a wife, precious siblings, memories he wanted to know. My Dad had vascular dementia. He never lost me. I had him in the palm of my hand. I protected and cared for him with everything I had. We made memories that will last me the rest of my life. My Dad passed away last night. There will never be a day that I won’t miss him. There will never be a day that I am not thankful for all the wonderful memories we made.

“You know that I love you Dad?” Yes, I know. I love you too, sweetheart.”

Go dance in the stars Pop… You are finally FREE!!!!assorted 014

 

House of Cards

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In the quiet of the gloaming I find myself reflecting on the moments of my day. Gloaming is the time before darkness settles in and the afternoon is filled with the soft glow of dusk.  The heat of the day is saying goodbye. The birds of song change their tune to something more soothing and mellow as if they know night is nearby.  I can feel the tension in my body begin to wane. I cherish these moments. Summer is hectic. The long days make me want to throw 40 hours into a 24 hour day. I hate when I become inpatient and try to live my life in 12 minutes.

We deserve more for ourselves. What is wrong with taking your time? This weekend, which for me began on Friday, was both crammed with activity and inactivity. Hubby and I made our annual trek to Springfield MA to visit the BIG E! As I get older I enjoy the trek across my great state less and less. The Mass Pike has never been a fun ride, ever. It is crazy long between exits and people with bad driving habits often make it unsafe. The Big E means the beginning of Autumn for me. I wait all summer for its arrival; yet, I dread the thought of going. It isn’t because I don’t have fun while I am there. It is just reality has a heavy hand. Now I have to prepare myself for shorter, cooler days with less and less outside time. Something WINTER this way comes…

I love the crispness of the air. I love being able to wear warmer snuggly clothes. I love that I can put on a hoodie and not have to wear the heavy digs of Winter. But, my mood begins to suffer. I struggle with sadness and feelings of being trapped. I grow anxious as the days get shorter and colder. I feel like a House of Cards waiting to be set astray by the gentlest of breezes. Something WINTER this way comes…  I wonder if this is how my Dad feels.

I feel melancholy since returning from my adventure on Friday. I have been fighting with myself all weekend. My Dad struggles with Dementia. He lives in a nursing home now.  I took care of my Dad by myself for nearly eight years. I am falling into the mood I adopted while taking care of him. At the end of each Summer I always felt like I was losing just a touch more of who he used to be. I would struggle with sadness, fear and anxiety. I learned to hate the dark seasons. I spent precious hours biding our time until the earliest hints of sunshine and light returned to our days freeing us. I am torn everyday. I want him to live forever but I want him to be free. I want him to remember but I know he will forget. I hate that love can’t fix everything. Happiness is a House of Cards.

 

Kathy’s Song

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She was there. My Pops had just been transferred from the hospital to enter the uncertain life as a nursing home resident. In the short span of his first week he was busted from the fifth floor to the fourth because he needed additional looking after. Which I learned really meant that my dad in his confusion would sometimes enter other patients rooms and well, wreak havoc. He didn’t mean any harm but nonetheless disturbances of any kind can have a very negative effect on the frail and/ or elderly who are just trying to have a little peace in their lives. I wasn’t happy the staff wanted to move my Pops but I understood so with minimal crabbing from me I helped the CNA move my dad to his new digs.  She was there.

Our first meeting is difficult for me to recall, not because I have memory issues but more from the level of stress I hadn’t yet sorted out. Everything that was happening to Dad and I still hadn’t sunken into my thought process. I was feeling so overwhelmed and beaten. I felt numb. She was there. Her name is Kathy. Her hubby was one of the residents at my Dad’s new “home”. She was friendly and talkative. I felt comfortable in her presence from that first moment. She showed me around the fourth floor and gave me a few pointers about the staff, the meal times, how to control the heat in Dad’s room, where to find extra linens. By reaching out to me she changed that moment of fear for me. I relaxed a little and I felt a wave of relief I was sure was never going to come.

I am sure she has no idea how much that day changed me. It changed the way I view my Dad’s living situation. It changed the way I am towards other people who have loved ones suffering from illnesses and dementia. Even though each of our battles are unique to us we are all in the same war; fighting to give our loved one the best “rest of their lives”.  My Pops was only at his first nursing home for two weeks when a bed became available closer to my home in a better environment. I jumped at the opportunity. I am not sorry that I moved Pops. We are both happier and healthier now. Kathy’s hubby has moved as well into a better living arrangement. I couldn’t be happier for them both.

Kathy and I keep in touch as much as possible, gotta love the interwebs, and today we went to lunch. I had a wonderful time. Thank you Kathy for being the light of hope I needed so badly that day. Never forget that one person can change the world. Never underestimate what you mean to someone else.

Love,

Trish  =  )

Today Was NOT That Day

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That day when you are the most uncertain about an important outcome, that day you wish would never come to fruition, that day, that one day you dread the most…  but today we were smiled upon, we were spared. As anyone who reads my blog knows I have a parent with dementia. He is my Dad; my hero, the man I love more than words can ever put a spin on. Our journey with his illness has not been easy. He and I have done this largely on our own. We have tried to always face it with laughter, love, and the occasional spat. I always have his back just like he has always had mine. Dad thinks he lives in his home town. He doesn’t know what day of the week it is. He doesn’t know current events, or what he last ate; and that is all ok with me. He knows who I AM, so to me he knows everything he needs to know and I see to the rest of it.

I have been there to see my Dad lose a child, lose his wife, lose his way to this terrible disease but never once did I fear that I would lose him, until today. For the first time in a long time I looked at my Dad as an elderly gentleman who had lived better days. I am Dad’s link to the outside world. I make it my duty to take him to all of his appointments outside of his nursing home. I am the keeper of his history. I am his advocate, his voice. I try to do my best to do what’s best for him.

Today Pops had to go to the local hospital for a procedure for some swallowing issues he has been having. Numerous questions regarding his health were directed towards me. I provided the answers they were seeking as best as I could. IVs were started. Charts were checked. I helped Pops put on his hospital gown and hairnet (he looked like an ugly lunch lady).  As the medical team rolled him away to his procedure I found myself fighting a wave of panic; the light of realization going on in my head that Pops is not immortal. Fearful thoughts raced through my head and I found myself fighting back tears.

I would like to tell you that I rallied quickly, banished those thoughts and moved on; but, that would be a lie. Instead I nervously picked my way along the hallway to a cafeteria, bought a banana, sang a chorus of Chances Are to a cashier, caught my breath and my composure. I found a bench to sit at to wait for the nurses to call me when Dad hit the Recovery Room. I managed to make it through the banana and a yogurt parfait( I went back for that) and was just purchasing a coffee when my phone rang. Seeing the number on my cell gave me a start but it was a call I had to answer. I was relieved to hear from the surgeon that things had gone well. My dad tolerated the procedure ok and he would be going to recovery soon    =  )

Live for the people in your life. Love with all of your being. No regrets. Be in the moment, make a memory. People often say to me that Dad is lucky to have me but I think I am the lucky one.

 

Brave?

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I love my Pops. Everyone who knows me knows how much I care about this man. People often say to me how strong I am or brave or what courage it takes to face his illness. I never know quite know how to respond to that. I know if the tables were turned and I was the one who was ill my Dad would be there. It is the character you build with the help of your parents that makes you the person you become. My parents had their faults, who doesn’t? They also tried very hard to instill certain values in us girls. Work hard, love with an open heart, be kind to people, listen, be understanding. Give of yourself not because it is expected of you but because want to share who you are with others. Nice counts.

My Dad never graduated high school. He was from an era in time when quitting school to seek a job to help your family was encouraged. I am sure my grandparents would have loved it if all of their children had stayed in school and jumped for their share of the American dream but dreams don’t put food on your table. My Dad has always had a strong sense of taking care of one’s own family. Do what needs to be done so they are provided for. He was a great provider. I can remember him having two part time jobs to help round out his full time job just to make ends meet. My mother was really unable to hold down a job for any significant amount of time. Her mental illness always got in her way. Crippling her ability to cope with every day duties of keeping the house and kids in line. Often my Dad had to be both parents.

My Dad never gave up on my mother and loved her devotedly until the day she died. Funny, he doesn’t remember her now. Sad for me; blessing for him? Who am I to say? I only know in my heart I am glad my mother did not live to see my Pops robbed of his memory. She nearly lost her mind after my sister passed away. I sometimes think that’s why her health declined so fast after Breny died ; she was broken. Both of my parents were clingy after her passing. My phone would ring off the hook. They would often call me to make sure I was Okay. Annoying then, but now I realize how hurt they were by her passing and how afraid they were for me and my other sister. Loss was not easy for either of them.

I deal with my Dad’s loss everyday. He is still here, yet he is not.  As the days go by I know my time being with him, laughing, living, crying and just being his kid are on the decline. He will not live forever despite my best efforts. I have become the parent to my parent. My parents taught me what to do. There is no bravery involved. Only love…and love can do anything. Love the people in your life while they are still here to share it. Dad/Trish

Who Is This Man?

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I haven’t written a post in quite some time. I told myself I need some time off to regroup and enjoy my summer. As many of you know I had to place my Pops into a nursing home. Never an easy decision to make. The paperwork long,tedious and intrusive. I have always resisted placing my Pops because I didn’t want to lose him to the system. I have already lost more than I have ever imagined I would. My kid sister and my mother passed away. I have an older sister that I am not close to (my choice). I have distanced myself from her children as well. I can not live with their baggage and try to fix my baggage as well. Growing up in a dysfunctional family environment with no set coping skills will do that for you. My family’s way of getting through tough things together usually involved more yelling than conversation and lots of name calling and blame throwing. Counter productive to say the least. Not a real esteem builder either. I had to learn to accept and like myself on my terms.

I took the summer off from writing so I could find a way to set myself free from feeling guilty about what happened to Pops and I. I have not been handling our new living arrangement well at all. There are things about it I really like. I no longer have to meal plan for him or assist him in his bath. I get to eat supper with hubby every night and mostly I don’t have to worry Pops might roll away from his apartment for places unknown.

Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to let go? Who is this man,that can’t remember my mother’s name? or that my kid sister had red hair? or that they both died too young and tragically? For my Pops it is a blessing but for me it is a curse. It only increases my sadness not dispels it. Who is this man? Dementia has changed everything about him I knew. This man is my Pops. I love him. I cry for the people he no longer remembers to miss. I cry for all that we have lost. stuff 005I cry because even though I see him whenever I can I MISS the man he used to be.