Happy Birthday?

“Happy Birthday Son!”

Miss Cathy said the words with love and affection as I walked into the living room on Saturday morning with the cup of coffee that she’d forgotten in the kitchen.

“Thank you”, I said, smiling down as I handed her the cup.

“That’s sweet of you to say except today’s not my birthday.”

“Todays the fourth isn’t it?”, she stated rather than asked, looking very self-righteous as any woman who was present at the birth would.

“Yes,” I replied, “today is the fourth.”

“And no mom”, I gently reminded her. “My birthday is on the eighth.”

“You’ll be fifty four?” she asked, alittle less sure of herself.

“Close”, I said,” fifty-five.”

We went round and round a couple times before she was convinced that I was right (which meant that she was wrong) and then there was a moment or two of silent recognition before the expression on here face seemed to say, ‘this is one more of those things that she was sure of that she’s not so sure of anymore’.

I sat next to her, not saying anything (after all, what is there to say really, in a moment like that? Personally I think it’s best just to be there but let her be).

We sat for a moment or two in silence while she’d collected herself and then she told me that she appreciated everything that I do for her (a much appreciated sentiment but an odd segue nonetheless).

She said she’d been meaning to tell me that my moving in to take care of her allows her to sleep peacefully at night in her own bed so she’s not afraid and that meant a lot.

Then she handed me a small stack of bills and said, “Here, I’ve got alittle present for you,”

The non-sequiturs just kept coming.

“Happy Birthday!” she said again.

I thanked her for the present and hugged her, not quite sure if she’d forgotten the conversation we’d just had about ‘when’ my actual day of birth was or if she was just acknowledging my birthday in general.

When your mother is convinced of the wrong date for your birth, not to be confused with being ‘wrong’ about the age of your child by a year (which is more or less understandable).

Hell, sometimes I forget how ‘old’ I am.

But, to not know with certainty something as fundamental as the day of the month to which you gave birth (to one of your two sons-it’s not like she’s Mrs. Duggar of “19 Kids & Counting fame) portends other ‘knowns’ to become ‘unknown’.

I just sat there, counting my money and smiling, thinking, there are so many things wrong with that exchange; suffice to say no more evidence should be needed as proof that Miss Cathy’s Alzheimer’s is advancing.

Prisms

As the year draws to a close it’s time to take stock and take inventory of all that’s past.

About a year and a half ago I felt as if a bomb had detonated internally that set off an explosion of emotions affecting my role as caregiver, son, friend and lover.

It was as if everywhere I looked all I could see littered before me was the damage; like shards from a broken glass, no longer able to discern if it were half empty or half full before the blast.

At the time I wondered how I would survive it all, was I strong enough? Was it my fault somehow that I’d attracted so much negative energy into my life?

And as I look back through the kaleidoscope of compartments that I’d lived my life at the time, coloring my world from light to dark there was alot of fault to go round but now I realize that dwelling on assigning blame serves no purpose.

So, as much as I twisted and turned from relationship to kinship, after l looked past the hurt (real or imagined) and disappointment (past and present) what was obscured was the love that should have colored it all.

I firmly believe “that which doesn’t kill us, serves to make us stronger” and I’m still here.

The ‘who, what and why’ of what’s happened aren’t as important as the lessons learned.

I’ve made mistakes and now I’ve made amends.

I’m reminded of the words of a kindly doctor whose books are prescriptions for how children’s (and the child in us all) should heal our lives; “No matter where you go, there you are”.

I remind myself moving forward that there will be bad days but at any moment I have the power to ‘start my day over’, to change my mindset and make my experiences work ‘for’ me and not against me.

If I can accept the negative that comes into my life then I also must embrace the positive that can be made manifest through thought and action.

What I’ve learned is to embrace the life that I have and not covet the life that I thought I’d be living. I can’t long for the fantasy of what might be because then I’d miss the reality of what’s happening in the here and now.

My time here is hardly over, if anything it’s just beginning as I enter my fourth year of caregiving.

On the eve of 2014 my life might not look like what I thought it would be but when I open my eyes each morning who I see reflected back at me through the looking glass is someone that is finally at peace with his time in this place.

Time to make the Donuts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=petqFm94osQ

My day is not unlike that of Fred, the dutiful baker who goes off to work in the pre-dawn hours to shove dough in and out of the ovens (long before most people are awake and craving their daily doze of sugary pasty) only to come home in the dark of night and do it all over again the next day, and again, and again….well, you get the picture (rather, you’ve just seen the classic television commercial thanks to youtube).

But, instead of donuts my days and nights begin and end in the darkness working for Miss Cathy.

I rise around five a.m. to start my day (for her) by turning off the alarm system located on the kitchen wall and then pulling out whatever breakfast meats or leftover’s she’s going to eat; then into the living room where I turn on the TV, open the blinds and double check that her morning meds are in their container.

This wasn’t always my routine, and Lord knows I haven’t gotten up this early since I was in high school, living at home and part of my chores was to get up (long before I needed to for school) and go out to start my mother’s car to ‘warm’ it up, turn o the heater or a/c for her drive into work….. And irony of ironies, here I am almost forty years later getting up early on mom’s behalf as well….I guess there is a sort of symmetry to that, but I digress.

I’ve learned to do this after many morning where I was startled awake (more than once) by the sound of either the alarm going off (when she’s opened the front door and forgotten the alarm was still on) or it’s the electronic ‘beep-beep’ sound her frantically pushing buttons as she tries to remember and enter the code to disable said alarm system.

Other times I’ve been rudely awakened by the harsh, static noises emanating fro the television when she hits the wrong buttons that have me up with the bakers to get things ready for whenever she starts her day.

I make sure everything is ready just in case she stirs before me, then it’s back to bed for a couple hours before I get up to start ‘my’ day around eight thirty (I have the luxury of being an artist and have spent the majority of my career working for myself so I don’t have to report to an office).

I’ve don’t mind really, it’s quiet and peaceful, much like when she takes a nap in the afternoon or goes to sleep at night.

That’s when I find I can get things done around the house like cooking, laundry, cleaning, making phone calls to set up appointments or paperwork (I call those “administrative days”) without her being underfoot, needing me to any number of little things that add to distracting me form whatever I’m trying to do for me (or for her on her behalf).

At night, after I’ve given her evening meds and a few hours later turned out her light, I cook for the next day, straighten up the living room, clean the kitchen and then I get to have ‘my’ evening; to go for a swim lesson, read, write, watch TV or a film and occasionally to go out for a bit to remember what it feels like to have a life independent of being a caregiver.

Then, all too suddenly it’s time to turn on the alarm and it’s light out for me around midnight or so and before you know it, it’s time to get up to ‘make the donuts’.

Valley of the Dolls: Pt. l

Some days it seems my whole life is pills, pills, pills…or “dolls” as Neely refers to them in the film< “Valley of the Dolls” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-TXJMKVa_g

Miss Neely O’Hara is played by a woefully miscast but brilliantly over the top Patty Duke, trying to earn some adult film role cred after years of playing a dual role as teenaged (get this) “twin” cousins on the popular “Patty Duke” television show http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXhiKZz0wEo

 “Gimme my dolls!” she screams at one point to obliterate her pain (or the pain of screaming lines like those).

But, I digress; the pills that rule my life are not ones that I’m screaming for (although Neely may have been onto something).

No, the colorful little pellets I refer to are the prescription medications for Miss Cathy’s daily consumption.

In the mornings she takes:

1)    Vitamin D3 1000iu                             (1 per day)      For Bone Health

2)    Vitamin B-12                                      (1 per day)      Keep the body's nerve and     

                                                                                    blood cells healthy

3)    Losartan Potassium 25mg                   (1 per day)      For High Blood Pressure

4)    Folic Acid 1mg                                    (1 per day)      For Memory

5)    Amlodipine Besylate 10mg                (1 per day)      For High Blood Pressure

6)    Metformin 500 mg                              (2 per day)      For Type 2 Diabetes

7)    Escitaopram 5 mg                               (1 per day)      For Anxiety

In the evening she takes:

1)    Aspirin 81mg                                      (1 per at nite)  Prevention of Blood Clots

2)    Donepezil 5mg                                    (1 per at nite)  For Alzheimer’s

3)    Namenda XR 28mg                             (1 per at nite)  For Alzheimer’s

4)    Metformin 500 mg                              (1 per at nite)  For Type 2 Diabetes

As you can see, it’s quite the list and now her neurologists want to add to it!

Time to step back and see if Miss Cathy can fit another ‘doll’ on her shelve.

Before I present the best possible options to mom for her consideration, I (along with her doctor(s) need to access the benefits, effectiveness, side effects, costs and toll of all these medications on her system.