Start Your Engines Part II

Yesterday morning I work up before Gregory and lie in bed just being quiet. He started stirring and I offered, "Do you want to get up or go back to sleep?"

He offered about ten minutes of confused beginning utterances, hemming, hawing, etc none of which was coherent to me or most likely to him.

Finally I offered, "Get up or sleep?" He pushed back the covers and got up. Success!

Next I went with him into the bathroom, directed him to the switch that turns on the heat and he knew what to do. Success!

I pointed to the toilet, and he knew what to do. No details needed here. Success!

Next I opened the medicine cabinet and took out his shaver box (contains shaver, brush, cord.) He knew how to plug it in without too much study and shaved. Success!

When he was finished, he opened the bathroom door. I pointed to the underwear and sweats on the bench just outside the door. He knew what to do. Success!

He had a little trouble getting the sweat shirt on correctly (even though it takes the same understanding that getting his undershirt on does.) I held back, he tried several times, "Oh shit!" "Oh shit!" "Oh shit!" finally getting it on correctly. Success!

So what we have here is a lot of successes in a failing kind of way!

P.S. Last night as we were drifting off to sleep, Gregory asked, "Do you know where you are going?"

"I am not sure what you mean," I questioned.

Tapping my head with his finger he replied, "In here, in here."

What is a Life? A Countdown?

This poem was a result of last night's dream.

What is a Life Countdown?

4 - Order, Structure, Routine, Standards?

3 - Spontaneity, Playfulness, Randomness?

2 - Sorrow, Joy?

1 - Love?

0 - Beginning, Middle, and End!

The realization/perspective I gained from the dream is that when I try to box Gregory in (and sometimes I have to) he gets "into trouble." He gets frustrated. I get frustrated, angry, short (not all the time.)

If I was to do away with all (or as much of as possible) of the order, structure, routine, standards of our life ... perhaps Gregory would have an easier time of getting through his Alzheimer's/Dementia (or perhaps not.)

The dichotomy is that I need, as do most of us: Order, Structure, Routine, Standards. For the purpose of helping Gregory function as well as he can and to insure his safety and to reinforce his contentment ...  he too needs these to a varying degree.

But if I could redefine "the box" or let him "out of the box" more often and just function in "free flow" think of how nice his world would be (and maybe mine?)

25 Word Flash Non-Fiction: Midnight Adventure

Middle of the night. Shit! shit! shit! What is the matter? How did they get in, pointing at a pair of shoes in the corner.

A Dream 03/31/11

There was some kind of catastrophic disaster. Fire was all around. Then there was an explosion or fire and light and on the other side life had changed. Many people including myself were burned beyond recognition but we were alive and functioning. New ways of doing thing had to be developed because people could barely move. A new language formed because people could barely talk. The interesting part is that this was NOT a nightmare. There was no pain, no fear, no depression, no anxiety. People just continued doing the best they could living their lives. Do you see a parallel with being a caregiver for or the person afflicted with Alzheimer's? I do. I also see that something that could have been a catastrophe ended up reflecting the ability of human nature to rise to the occasion.

But Not Necessarily For Kittens

Let me recount a beautiful but sad experience I had at 6:00 this morning. Since Gregory's illness has progressed, I have become a light sleeper. So this morning I was instantly aware that Gregory was awake. I couldn't tell if the noises he was making were laughter or crying.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"No." he replied through his tears. "I miss her so. Do you know who I mean?"

I quickly thought of his mother, Helen, whose death anniversary is tomorrow. Maybe that is who he meant but our conversation took a different direction. Perhaps he was awake or just back from a dream. Either way I did not analyze.

"No, not my mother. My painting teacher. Nancy. I wish she would come back. I miss her so!" and he continued to whimper and sob. "Where is she?"

By now I was wide awake, on my elbow, holding his shoulders and we rocked. "She is in California at an art show. She'll be back. It will be OK. It will be Ok." And we rocked.

Tears began to run from my eyes, unasked and unannounced. It makes me so sad when he is sad. But I could only be there for him and lie by his sadness. Soon he calmed down, "I am OK now. Isn't that silly. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. No it isn't silly. I know you really miss Nancy. She'll be back soon."

I know how much he has been enjoying his new artistic endeavor painting with oils. I know how important his relationship with Nancy is. As she says, their time together needs no language and we seem to have a quiet ability to communicate, not necessarily with lots of words.

"Maybe I shouldn't say this but I have an idea for a piece. With all grays," he inserted into my thinking. Then, "Do you think I could take two or three pieces to the party?" he asked like a small boy would ask. He was referring to the Oscar Party we are going to tonight at Danny and David's. We have been doing this for some twenty years now.

"Perhaps that wouldn't be a good idea. We don't want to take the focus away from Danny and David. We could make a few smaller photographs of your paintings to carry in your wallet if you would like."

"That would be nice. This is so silly. I am sorry."

"Honey don't apologize. It's OK. Sometimes waking up from a dream can be difficult and strange."

"But not necessarily for kittens," he said as he petted our cat Mariah who was at his side, "Not necessarily for kittens."

HINT FICTION: Train Wreck

TRAIN WRECK

Some nights are like a train wreck with each crumpled car a new dream. Luckily by morning the tracks were cleared.

(21 words)

Dreams Can Be Lessons

Last night I woke up from a dream in a panic . I do that now and then. Short of breath, tears in my eyes, needing to sob quietly so as not to wake Gregory. I calmed myself down, went to the bathroom, washed my face, and sat in the living room trying to remain calm and think through the dream.

In the dream, Gregory was trying to make a group of friends understand an architectural concept and was having great difficulties constructing his thoughts. The friends were asking questions, seeking clarification, and challenging some of what he was saying. Gregory continued to struggle to get his words together and out in a coherent stream and became more and more frustrated. He looked to me to help him tell the group what he was talking about but I couldn't understand what he was trying to say either.

I tried to get the group of friends to slow down and be more patient. I tried to get Gregory to slow down and be more calm. I tried to understand what he was trying to share. To no avail. I continued to feel the pressure mount, probably somewhat surreally, as dreams like to do.

Perhaps an added pressure on my dream is my current work on getting my manuscript together for review by a publisher that has requested to read it. In my panic I decided I couldn't do this. Gregory is going to get much worse then I can begin to imagine. How can I continue to remain supportive and optimistic and joyful when I am feeling angry, pessimistic, and fearful?

I decided that I was going to quit writing. Quit trying to share my experiences with Gregory and Alzheimer's. How can I think that I can really get a handle on this disease, on our difficult days, on his brain playing serious games with his thinking, continued language loss, more difficulties with day to day activities? How can I re-live everything three times: First the experience. Next dealing and thinking it through. Third, writing about it. Too much. Too much! I finally fell asleep and rested fairly well until my alarm went off.

Later that morning the lesson came to me. "You can only do what you can do." Release the pressure. You have been able to adjust and compensate so far, you will continue to do so. One memory loss at a time, I will figure out how to approach the next one when it happens. I will be more observant about what Gregory can tolerate and what he cannot and not put him in difficult situations.

Our life, my life, will change as his life changes. Our friends and family are supportive and aware, it was only the dream that made it feel ugly. My fear of the future kicked in. My fear of my inadequacies kicked in. But the future isn't here yet, so relax and enjoy today! And I continue to do a good job being supportive of his needs and mine, so relax and enjoy today. That was my message this morning. Not bad for a night's work!