A Brainstorming Chart

May have posted this previously but just came across it today as I was cleaning up my computer files. Did this one day last year when I was feeling "down" and wanted to revisit my apologies to Gregory, and to list everything I could think of for which I was grateful. 

One thing I did not include was what a trooper Gregory was, always kind, calm, patient, loving, forgiving, etc etc etc.

Hope you can read this or enlarge it on your computer screen. If you cannot read the "small print" and would like me to send you a copy via e-mail or snail mail let me know.

Keith Jarrett

Listen to Keith Jarrett play "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" while you read this post.



By now a number of years ago, as Gregory's Dementia/Alzheimer's was getting worse and fairly quickly, dinner time would prove to be a difficult time for Gregory and me. For him to figure out how to navigate the food on his dinner plate and in the beginning of this new loss for me, losing my patience with him.

On one particularly difficult night, I do not remember all the details, but I was not only impatient but also mean. I yelled at Gregory for not knowing how to use his fork and for sitting there staring at his plate. I encouraged him to eat but he was really having difficulties. I grabbed the fork and began feeding him. But not with love. With anger and saying something like, "OK then I guess I am just going to have to feed you like a baby!"

Can you imagine how I feel now remembering back and writing this. In some ways, writing it as an apology to Gregory. Now, at Lieberman, he is unable to feed himself and I will help him to eat dinner (or lunch.) Now I do it with love, and care, and patience. As I carefully wait for him to have finished his chewing I bring the next portion to his mouth announcing what I am offering: "Here is a bite of roast beef now." "Here is some delicious mashed potatoes." "Mmmm, this creamed spinach is one of your favorites." I repeat my monologue (or is it a dialogue?) with each bite. Sometimes I'll just say, "Ready?" or "OK?" or "Do you want more?"

Several times, at Lieberman, I have talked to Gregory about how sorry I am about some of the times I was mean before and I might cry a little. While he does not have much language, I think he understands what I am saying and I know that he accepts my apology.

The reason for the Keith Jarrett above is that we used to listen to music at dinner time to make the evening more pleasant and to help cover the fact that conversations were no longer possible unless they were one-sided coming from me. The music made for a mutually enjoyable experience. Keith Jarrett is one of our favorites.

After one particularly difficult blow up, Gregory and I sat quietly through the rest of dinner, tears running down my face, Gregory suffering quietly as well, while Jarrett's Köln Concerts was playing. That piece, if you are not familiar with it, is somewhat noisy, not really melodic, but beautifully strong and emotionally played by Jarrett with his moaning and breathing heavy showing up behind the music. He puts his entire self into the performance.

When the piece ended, Gregory said to me, "That was perfect for our situation. Wasn't it?" At that we were able to "make up" and hug and get on with our life. We were both always good at apologizing well and picking up our love again as we continued doing the best we could do with a horrible situation: Alzheimer's Disease!

In some ways, the more I listen to Köln, I think it would be great background music for the movie of Gregory and my life.

Brainstorms

Speaking First With Anger and Fear Instead of Love

Besides our difficulties getting started this morning (click here if you haven't read my earlier post) Gregory had a few other disconnects today. I parked in the lot of Office Depot and told him to wait in the car and opened the window. I had something waiting for me at the register and knew it would only take a few minutes.

While I was paying, I looked up and saw Gregory waiting for me by the front of the store. He signaled across the registers to let me know he was there. I got upset because he not only didn't stay in the car, but left it open, walked across the parking lot into the store, and waited to find me there. I was terrified that the situation I thought in hand was not under control at all. I was overwhelmed by all of the things that could have happened go him.

Maybe I should have just been grateful that he was there and I saw him waiting but like the parent who spanks her child for playing in the street and almost getting hit by a car instead of hugging him and telling him you are so happy he is safe and well, I got angry and balled him out.

After grocery shopping, we arrived home in the parking garage. There were four heavy shopping bags, two for each of us to take up one flight of stairs to our condo. I took two bags out of the trunk and asked Gregory to get the other two.

He first tried to pick up both by holding one handle from each of the heavy bags. I told him to wait, put my bags down on the ground, and separated the bags still in the trunk hoping it would make how to hold them more obvious for him.

He took one bag and held it to his chest and then didn't know what to do with the other. By now, given the day and the previous disconnects, I knew that it would be easier for me to do the work rather than try to explain or instruct him how to carry two shopping bags by the handles each swinging in a different hand.

I was able to be somewhat kind and not vent my full anger and frustration or worse yet give in to my rage, although my emotions were pumping. After my second trip schlepping the groceries from the parking garage to the condo, I made his coffee, unloaded the groceries, made a cup of coffee for me, and attended to some work waiting for me on my computer. I was, however, somewhat distant and silent, which also sends a message to Gregory.

A short while later, I invited him into the computer room to watch a few TED presentations which are always moving. Afterwards he came back into the computer room and carefully began to apologize for his earlier behavior. I was able to help after asking if he was trying to apologize or was angry with me over my behavior.

I sat him down, took his hand, and said, "I appreciate your apology but I have to apologize to you as well. I know that you did not do anything on purpose today, you did not try to make me angry. We both know that at times your brain plays tricks on you through no fault of your own." At this point he began to cry. I squeezed his and and told him that I loved him.

I continued, speaking very slowly, "What happens in these situations is that I speak first out of anger and fear when I should be speaking out of love. I am working so hard at speaking out of love only but I am not too good at it yet." And I began to cry.

I think Gregory understood what I was trying to say. I reinforced that I love him no matter what, that I am here for him, that nothing that happened today was his fault, and that by now I am over it and not at all angry or frightened anymore. He reaffirmed his love and gratitutde for me.

He felt much better and so did I.

Rocks & Hard Places II

The companion is here with Gregory. I am running errands and still need kitty litter so even though I am cutting my timing close I run to Jewel. I call to tell the companion, "Go ahead and catch your train, I'll follow by three or four minutes. Make sure Gregory knows I am on my way home."

I meet the companion in the lobby where he tells me the TV controller was dropped into the sleeper sofa. They found it by opening the sofa but when closing it the cat's head was caught. He doesn't think the cat was hurt. And he really feels bad.

Without thinking I say, "That was really stupid." Picturing the cat's head after a meeting with the heavy sofa bed and its metal structures and slicing hinges. He apologizes and I am not real gracious with my, "What's done is done. We'll talk."

I get up to the condo and everything seems calm. Both cats are on the bed wrestling as usual. I pet them while checking for any cuts, lacerations, breaks, and/or bruises. Gregory knows nothing about the incident, even though he was there. He finally says, "Maybe a little something happened."

I take the grocery cart back to the lobby after telling Gregory, "You are hopeless." On the way to the elevator I chant, "I am not my emotions, I am not my emotions."

I call the companion who is now on the train and tell him the cats are fine. Not to worry. I remind him that I earlier in our relationship I had said, "You will know when I am angry, meanwhile you do not need to apologize for things."

Then I say, "Now you know how I sound when I am angry." He apologizes. "But it is over, all is forgiven. Sorry I was so rough on you. Don't worry. Be done. The cats are fine." I know he isn't as he apologizes again.

To try to be lighter I say, "Now besides being responsible for Gregory's life and safety you have two cats to look after." He apologizes again.

I get back to the condo and Gregory apologizes. I try to talk about my emotions ... but to no avail. I try to tell Gregory what I went through ... but to no avail. I try to explain how frustrating it is that he didn't even remember what had happened ... but to no avail.

I know that my best advice to myself is, "Say nothing. Explain nothing. Do nothing." But what am I supposed to do with MY emotions? My anger? My frustration? No one to talk to. No one to explain to. No one to witness.

Never sure how much Gregory understands of what I am saying. Gregory experiences my emotions but we are not able to process the event together nor explain them away. Never any closure.

Now I have two upset people (not counting myself) on my hands and am not able to do anything about it, or the sick feeling in my gut, or the one in my heart. Talk about a ROCK and a HARD PLACE.

The incident is over, everything turned out OK, and over time I put aside my unresolved feelings. There is another expression: Whether the rock hits the pitcher, or the pitcher hits the rock ... the pitcher suffers. Gregory, the companion, and I are the pitchers. Alzheimer's is the rock.