Out of Power

 

Lately, the wind blows at two speeds—hard and harder. The bad thing about wind is that flying limbs, trees, and debris cause power outages.

During recent local outages, I was sitting in my home feeling smug because we have a generator with an automatic switch that keeps the power flowing. Normally, the switch is so rapid that I don’t know if our power has gone out unless I check the electric cooperative’s website.

Last week, I was on the phone with my mom when the lights went out. “I don’t know what’s happened because the power went off and the generator didn’t kick on.”

“Maybe it will just take it awhile,” she suggested.

“No. It comes on instantly.” I looked at the clock on my PC, which had switched to battery without so much as a flicker. “Mom, I’ve got to go. I need to leave in fifteen minutes, and I can’t possibly get our garage doors open manually.”

I called Harold’s cousin which I refer to as 911-Ivan. I asked Ivan if he could come and start the generator so I could get out of the garage. I looked out and saw him coming through our gates in about five minutes. I went out the front door and met him at the generator shed. The generator would crank, but wouldn’t start.

Plan B was to have Ivan come in and open the garage door for me. We got to the lift to take us to the basement level, and he said, “Does this run on electricity?”

“Yes, it does, but it has a battery backup.”

Ivan opened the overhead door and as I backed the pickup out of the garage, I rolled down my window. “Looks like the power is back on,” I said, pointing at the light that comes on when the garage doors open.

We take power for granted, but when it fails, we feel powerless. When Jim was diagnosed with dementia of the Alzheimer’s type, I asked the physician, “Isn’t there medication for that now?” I was certainly disappointed when he told us that the FDA had only approved one drug, and it was to help with symptoms only. The drug, Cognex, would not stop or slow down the progression of the disease.

Once I knew that Jim had an incurable, progressive brain disorder, I battled with a feeling of powerlessness. For early-onset dementia, or younger onset, the life expectancy is shorter than it is for dementia in the elderly.

Typically, I am an optimistic person, and I decided that we would do everything we could to make life better for both of us.

Although Jim’s dementia was the most traumatic experience of my life, it is also the reason I am the person I am today. Through volunteering, I have met people who became dear friends, learned how to be a voice for the voiceless, and gained hope that someday we would find a cure or effective treatment for Alzheimer’s. Research has come a long way since Cognex, and new drugs are the tip of a spear that will destroy Alzheimer’s.

We just can’t fathom how important power is until we lose it. I learned to take one day at a time, one hour at a time, or minute by minute.

As a caregiver, I coped by not looking back or worrying about the future. I learned to accept and love Jim as he was. I cherished the moments of clarity, or the times he broke through the bounds of aphasia to speak, and the warmth of his hugs.

When the power goes out, light a lamp and move bravely through the darkness.

Copyright © April 2023 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

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