Gayle

Gayle lives at Lieberman on the assisted living floor. She and I have crossed paths a number of times on the elevator and I always smile and say hello to her.

Today she was at the Sunday November Birthday Party in the community room sitting not too far away from Gregory, Manny, and me.

She is pleasant enough but approaching her is a little difficult because of her lack of grooming, her being dressed in a night gown instead of something more appropriate to the party, her sad dour look.

I was feeling particularly sad for myself trying to cope with some of the more recent changes Gregory has been going through. Today he was extra quiet, seemed drugged, his neck holding his head at a painfully crooked angle, and his face looking like it was just hanging there.

Manny had tried to prop his head with pillows but instead of Gregory taking the pressure off his neck by leaning on the pillows, he seemed to rather hold it at that awkward angle.

So there I was sitting, holding and stroking Gregory's hand, listening to the singer crooning love songs, with tears running down my eyes.

I looked up and noticed Gayle sitting there looking at us. It seemed as if she had tears in her eyes. I thought to myself, I need to go over and chat with her a little. If I give her some of my love, I might be better able to carry my sorrow.

I walked over to her wheelchair, kneeled down, took her hand and said, "Hi."

She greeted me. "He is so young, you know!" she said about Gregory. "You know I pray for you both every time I see you and your love for each other."

"Sometimes I wonder if there is a God?" she asked.

I thanked her for her prayers and her kind thoughts and tried to cheer her up a little, "Well you know, Gregory is happy and calm and content in his own way. They take very good care of him here. And there is a God if only because of your prayers and smile. We both appreciate that very much."

She smiled back as I took my leave and went back to hold Gregory's hand. It worked. I gave away love and was given love in return, and contentment, and peace.

Gregory: Contented

Sarah McLaughlin, our massage therapist, paid a visit to Gregory and gave him a 30 minute massage. Can you tell from these photos that he "hated" it?

A Miracle of Choreography of Heart Space

Reproduced from a post by close friend Jan who in turn pointed people to my blog. So if you find you are going in circles, STOP :-)

We were out tonight with long time friends (35+ years?), eight of us in all. GM (I have written about him before), one of the eight, was diagnosed with early onset of Altzheimers about 10 years ago and has progressively lost his words as well as a reduced ability to perform simple tasks including getting dresssed and eating. Some gifts were exchanged before we all walked to the local Chinese restaurant for dinner. GM’s partner asked him to take the paper and plastic to the recycle at the end of the hall near the elevators. GM looked confused and I said I would walk with him. In the hallway I asked him how he was feeling. He stopped and said, “I feel so…………” and then there was a long pause which is not unusual in his speech as he tries to locate words, “…………..happy.”

And then his eyes filled with tears and of course, then my eyes did too. I rubbed his back and said, “It sounds like you are more blissed out than happy.” He smiled. “Not many people are so lucky.” He nodded. We continued to the end of the hall to the recycling and worked our way back to the apartment.

Later in the evening I shared this little interlude with his partner, MH. He said, “I guess I’m doing a really great job.” Then his eyes filled with tears.

A caretaker’s love is often in tension and stressed. For GM, life can be a kind of nirvana though there is often frustration for him too. Balancing all this for the well being of both the caretaker and the one being cared for, is a miracle of the selfless choreography and capacity of heart space. While the unraveling relentlessly advances, I continually marvel at MH’s ability to create a safe and rich space for GM, even though it may come at some or great sacrifice on MH’s part. I am humbled by the depth of relationship and complex intricacies of the dance they share.

MH has maintained a blog about GM and the progressive manifestations of his Altzheimers. You ought to check it out. It is raw, genuine, and incredibly inspiring.

There Are Good Days

Try as I might to post about the good days, it is most often the bad ones that send me to my computer to contemplate, to process, to poeticize.

So when you see a string of posts, you can probably guess that the marry-go-round is spinning wildly out of control.

When you see a string of NO-posts, you can probably assume that for the most part things are mostly under control and I am coping.

Under any of these scenarios you may assume that Gregory feels content, happy, and safe.

As he signs off each evening, reading aloud the words I printed on a Post-It from a poem called "The Enlightened Heart:"

SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, and COMPASSION." 

These are his guidelines and my aspirations.

THINGS ARE EVEN

When things are "even," meaning going well, I neglect writing here. Then I feel guilty about not writing since April 11 (that's 6 days) so I have to be careful not to attach that guilt to when things are going well. Get my point? Meanwhile Gregory continues to "progress" and I continue to "cope." But life is good, love is good, and its beginning to look a lot like SUMMER!

It Becomes Easier as it Becomes Harder

I may have written about this before but I think it is worth my working through again.

It seems that the more Alzheimer's takes away from Gregory the easier it is for me to cope. I become more aware that he is unable to deal with certain situations: language is usually a problem now so I get used to it, he is confused more often than not so confusion is expected, disruptions in his routine always affect his ability to function so I mobilize and help him through the change, when he begins to get frustrated his level of frustration escalates and causes his abilities to decline so I do not give him tasks that would frustrate him, he is able to help less so I do more.

Gregory continues to be happy, content, and to enjoy his life. The difficulties come when I can't cope, get frustrated or angry, loose my temper, get short with him, forget that he is not the person he used to be when we met thirty five years ago. And since I am more aware of his inabilities, I expect less, ask less, do more and feel better. Sounds strange doesn't it?

The Enlightened Heart

Last night Gregory pointed to three words in a poem he was reading in the book The Enlightened Heart. He wanted me to make a sign so he could post it on the side of his bedside table. Today we tried to find the author and title of the poem but we couldn't. Will keep looking and repost if we find it. FOUND IT! From a poem by Lao-Tsu 571B.C in a book edited by Stephen MitchellMeanwhile, I think it is very telling that he chose these three words as important: SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, COMPASSION.  Every night before he turns out the lights, he reads those three words aloud. Moving?