Birthday Thoughts

One thing I know, unequivocally, is that life is not fair. If life were fair, today would have been Jim’s 79^th birthday. Instead, of “live long and prosper,” dementia took him down in April 2005.

Jim grew up traveling the highways and byways between Missouri and Oregon with various detours along the way. He lived in rickety rental houses, as well as under trees and bridges. Still, he had a happy, adventurous childhood.

The one thing about Jim’s family that I understood clearly was that sometimes they did not have a house to live in, but they were not homeless. Some people say that church is not a building, but cannot accept that home is not always a house.

I remember a trip to Oregon when we drove around with Jim’s brother Bob. He would point at a huge tree and say, “We lived under that tree.” And who could forget the story of the bridge they lived under in Texas. A man in a fancy car brought them groceries. Later when he became president, they recognized Lyndon Johnson.

When we traveled through Oregon, Idaho, and Utah, Jim would point out what he called his “old stomping grounds.” We drove by a house in Silverton where the Fisher family lived for quite awhile. Jim had often talked about the weeping willow tree, and it still stood in the front yard.

Another thing I know is that life is serendipitous. My Mom and Dad went to town once a week to stock up on groceries. It takes a lot of groceries to feed eight kids. Sometimes I went with them and sometimes I stayed home. One week, Mom and I were in the Dew Drop Inn having a hamburger when a man that my mom knew sat down at our table to visit. His name was Kenneth Fisher.

The next week on our grocery run, I ran into Kenneth again, and he said, “Linda, I have someone I want you to meet.” He proceeded to introduce me to his son and nephew. The nephew was Jim and Kenneth became “Uncle Orvie” to me.

Life can sometimes be a smooth, boring highway, and other times a treacherous mountain pass crammed with hairpin curves and no guardrails. Undoubtedly, the terrain of life can transition from one extreme to another in a heartbeat. Either way, there’s no going back for do-overs. The pathway ahead has to be navigated with planning, skill, and luck.

Jim and I had a rough road in the beginning, followed by several mundane years without life being such a struggle. Then, we spent the final ten years careening the hairpin curves, and hanging onto as much normalcy as we could. Through it all, our love never wavered.

Life is a series of destinations. We move through childhood, thinking we want to be adults. After we become adults, we hope to find our dream job, someone to love, and a happy, healthy family. As we grow older, we launch our kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids along life’s journey.

Our final earthly destination is death. Jim’s came when he was 59 years old after ten harrowing years of cognitive decline. His time here on earth came to an end, but he left an indelible mark in our hearts and memories.

Since I met Jim on that summer day in 1968, not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him. Sometimes in quiet moments, I can feel his loving presence, and I know he is just a heartbeat or a breath away.

Yes, today, Jim would have been 79 years old if he was still on earth, but instead he is ageless.    

To Register or to Donate to the Sedalia Walk: alz.org/sedaliawalk  (our team is Jim's Team) 

Copyright © August 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Do Chickens Have Fingers?

I fixed chicken sandwiches and Arby’s curly fries for lunch, and I asked Harold what he would like to have with it. He said, “Ketchup.” Then after a hesitation, he mentioned mustard, mayo, pickles, tomato, and lettuce.

“That reminds me of the time we took Colby to Applebee’s when he was little. He looked at the kid’s menu and decided to order his own meal. The first item he ordered was ketchup. Then he ordered fries, and last he ordered chicken fingers.”

Flashback to Branson, Applebee’s: “I didn’t even know chickens had fingers,” I said. Colby just gave me his “silly old grandma” look.

We went to Silver Dollar City where we rode rides and splashed in the water to cool off. Jim and Colby went to play with the Nerf balls and had a good time. Jim would hand the balls to Colby and he would put them in the tube.

Everything was going well until we all had to go to the bathroom. I went into the women’s restroom while Jim watched our bags. When I came out, Jim and Colby went into the men’s, and I sat on a bench close to the door to watch for them.

I waited and waited. Finally, I asked a man to go into the restroom and see if my husband and grandson were inside. He came back out and said they weren’t, but he told me that there was another door on the other side of the building.

Jim was in the early stages of the disease and now he was missing with my grandson. As I was starting to panic and wondering how to get hold of security, they came walking up on the opposite side of the restroom. I believe that Colby had brought him back. After that scary moment, I was ready to leave for the day.

One of the saddest parts of dementia is that Jim was not able to enjoy his grandkids like he could have otherwise. He only knew three of his four grandchildren, and it wasn’t long before they were trying to look after him.

Jim’s dementia affected the entire family. When Whitney was about two years old, she understood that Grandpa couldn’t go outside by himself because he might get lost. We were babysitting Whitney one day and decided to go next door to visit Virginia.

Jim was restless and paced the floor. He casually worked his way toward the door, and Whitney spotted him. She jumped into the doorway spreading her arms and legs to barricade the door.

“No, Papa Jim!” she said with all the authority she could muster.

Jim stopped in front of her, turned around, and sat in the recliner.

Virginia must have experienced a mother’s worst nightmare as she watched her son vanish into a dimension that defies the imagination. Throughout our time together, Jim had always been a rock for his mom and dad. He sent his mom an allotment when he was in the military to help them through financial difficulties.

Jim singlehandedly planned and began construction on a small house so his parents could move out of a mobile home that was falling apart. Jim felt an urgency to see that his parents had a decent place to live, and felt that our house would just have to wait. Jim’s dad only lived a few months after moving into the house, and after his death, Virginia lived alone.

Instead of Jim looking after his mom, the circle closed and she began looking after him. When her health failed, other family members along with hired caregivers took care of Jim while I worked.

After Jim was in long-term care, Virginia visited him faithfully often bringing him his favorite foods. I would pick Jim up at the nursing home and take him to Dairy Queen. His favorite meal was the chicken strip dinner with a strawberry milk shake. I’m not sure when “chicken fingers” became “chicken strips,” but at least we don’t have to puzzle over whether chickens have fingers.

To Register or to Donate to the Sedalia Walk: alz.org/sedaliawalk  (our team is Jim's Team)

Copyright © August 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ