Saturday, December 9, 2017

Life changes entirely and unforgivingly when caring for a beloved besieged by dementia. Tending Jim's manifold needs and druthers, there is little left over for me, never mind friends I should like to help. This grieves me. But, here I am and here I will be, forever for Jim.


Friday, December 1, 2017

I have contradictory feelings about this blog. 

In the beginning, I meant to write about the funny, however heartbreaking, aspects of living with Jim and his dementia. And, I did but it took only about a month for the dark to drown the light such that the blog is graver in aspect than I'd intended.

Any therapist will tout the benefit of expressing one's feelings yet a persistent drumroll of the mostly depressing, sad, painful reflections here even get me down(er).


Folk who have long experience being owned (or ignored) by cats, know that even the cuddliest feline (oxymoron alert) eventually will become annoyed by incessant petting/stroking, making known their surfeit with a quick claw strike or semi-serious nip.

In fact, our Mr. Maggie freely evinces his displeasure when I am the petter/stroker yet, when Jim does the same, Maggie will be still and purr for ages, foreswearing all demonstrations of annoyance. Smart and compassionate cat knows Jim needs the tactile love.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Long afternoon with Jim at the urgent-care clinic. Diagnosis: rampant bacterial eye infection plus abrasion. Of course, the pharmacy system crashed and we were not able to get the cipro eyedrops. Grrr. Thus, tonight we are deploying hot compress and wiping up the goop. Which brings to mind Gwyneth Paltrow's goopy website so that made me laugh.

On the plus side, we booked good seats for the new John Adams opera and friends will join us for dinner before. 

Monday, October 23, 2017

When the Rollercoaster Is One-Way

When the Rollercoaster Goes Only Down

Living with dementia is much as living on a perpetual rollercoaster with no highs, only lows. The last several (silent here) months have been a slow, low coaster with the occasional level merry-go-round thrown in for the almighty uptick.

The truth is every new day is the best day Jim and I will share going forward. Every morning I bow to the notion that this will be my best day with Jim. And, every day I fail to be grateful therefore. There may be grace buried in this horror but I lack the grace to find it. And I am too much bothered by this than in the fealty to Jim's own loss.

But the true horror is that I cannot often enough be Jim's grace. And he is so much more deserving of it than I.

This all just sucks. I am at a low ebb and have been so for months.

I am brought low by my sometimes inability to be loving and kindly to Jim. If only I could slaughter my self, the self that strains so against the injustice of Jim with me forever.

But, Mexico next week for a week. Both of us rally there.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Forbearance

Here am I back from inability to write; have been busy learning forbearance. It's not that the intermittent days and weeks were dreadful so much as those were days of learning to otherwise cast my feelings in pursuit of forbearance.

Meanwhile, much remains the same. Jim still plays chess, helps me with chores, reads the morning papers (three or four times a day), and escorts me as a gentleman does with his lady. And I am his lady.

We continue to travel. Jim is loving it. Next up: Leaf peeping in Quebec in September; then back to Cabo for my birthday in late October. Thanksgiving with Pat in Delaware (we've been friends since kindergarten).

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Catching Up

A week in Hawaii with the Brooklyn Team -- wonderful to reconnect with Karl and bliss out with his family. Jim was happy. Loved the beach, ocean, palms ... and room service!

Our Mr. Maggie is happy be home. He's such a good boy.

Once again, I am enduring a series of medical tests trying to figure out if the ticker is dicey. Takes up so much time and some of the tests are uncomfortable.

More travel next month, a week in Cabo at Las Ventanas al Paraiso. Poor Mr. Maggie will again repair to the cat spa. He may not love them but they love him. The resort is a fancy place with a sushi bar. I have had several communications with them indicating I have no intention of going to Mexico to eat sushi. We want ceviche (Mexican sushi?), enchiladas, tacos, grilled fish and beef, chiles relenos, guacamole, more guacamole, grilled shrimp, grilled lobster, oysters, papaya, mango, pineapple, pastilla de tres leches, flan, Mexican hot chocolate, agua fresca, y sangria, ron ponch y margaritas. 

I continue to struggle in the old farts home. The good news is they struggle with me as well. I've tried to explain to them that I am a forerunner of what they have in store when the bulk of the boomers start retiring in droves -- soon. We aren't the, um, old elders. We be the new elders who are difficult to lead around by the nose and we expect to participate actively in our governance. I AM the canary, take note, be forewarned.






Sent from my iPad