A Pot of Gold

 

My sister and I took a trip to Ireland in 2005. Going to Ireland had been on my bucket list for years, so when we saw the trip advertised, we signed up for it and put down our deposits. We bought the trip insurance because Jim was in the nursing home, and his health and wellbeing would take priority over a vacation. Our trip was scheduled for September, and sadly, Jim passed away in April.

On St. Patrick’s Day in 2014, I posted some of our photos to Facebook, and when they came up in my “memories,” I reposted them. I think the one that got the most attention was the one of me kissing the Blarney Stone.

Of course, kissing the Blarney Stone was part of my bucket list too. To be perfectly honest, I had no idea how scary that entire experience would be. After we walked along the top edge of Blarney Castle, we stood in line to kiss the stone. A man held onto each person as he dipped him or her backwards over a sheer drop to the ground. My sister, grossed out at the thought of all the other lips on the stone, “air kissed” it. Not me, if I was going to put my life in the hands of an old man that dipped people backwards all day long, I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity of a lifetime, and I kissed the stone.

 Ireland, and St. Patrick’s Day, are blessed with a lot of symbolism: Ireland’s patron saint—St. Patrick, shamrocks, mischievous leprechauns, corned beef and cabbage, Irish music, the color green, and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We speak of the luck of the Irish as if it is a magical beacon, although Ireland and the Irish have suffered greatly throughout the centuries.

How many of us chase rainbows (dreams) believing that if our dreams come true, we’ll find that pot of gold (wealth or happiness) at the end. What many don’t realize is that the chase is often the best part and the pot of gold can be disappointing.

Jim searched for that pot of gold by buying lottery tickets. He always wanted to win the jackpot. After he became more forgetful, I’d find tickets lying around that he’d bought, but never checked. Occasionally, we would take a stack in to have them run through a machine. Jim never got that pot of gold, but the tickets were a small price to chase his dream of instant wealth.

I never had any desire to win the lottery because I figured it would just mess up my life. I was more than satisfied as long as I had enough money to pay the bills, buy groceries, and have some spending money left.

Jim and I never found gold, but our life had its share of rain and rainbows. We had hard times and good times. Although we never had monetary wealth, we were abundantly blessed with love and family. 

On St. Patrick’s Day, my hope is that you enjoy chasing your dreams, and that you find a pot of “gold” filled with health, wealth, and happiness.

Originally published 2023

Copyright © March 2025 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Write a Note

 

Jim and his uncle used to play music together on a daily basis. One time, our four-year-old son said, “Dad would you sing that song “I’ve gotta write a note?”

Jim looked confused and said, “I don’t think I know that song.”

That didn’t make sense to Eric because he had heard his dad sing the song. He prompted, “Oh, darlin’ if I’m losing you, I’ve gotta write a note.”

Jim smiled and said, “The line is ‘Oh, darlin’ if I’m losing you, I’ve gotta right to know.”

Song lyrics are often misunderstood and before the days of Google, many of us never knew the correct lyrics. In “Bad Moon Arising” some people swore that “there’s a bad moon on the rise” was “there’s a bathroom on the right.” Does that really fit the rest of the song? Yet, I swear that the live version I had, Credence played into the misconception by plainly saying, “there’s a bathroom on the right.” Pinky swear!

Sometimes our brain interprets what we hear in a way that makes sense to us, but may not be the words spoken. When a person has dementia, tone of voice and facial expressions mean more than the words we speak. As the disease progresses, our loved one tries to interpret our actions rather than our words.

Dementia affects each person differently. The care partner will notice that not everyone sees the stark changes in their loved one that they do. I believe that for an entire year after Jim forgot his social security number, his birth date, and right from left, that some of his family thought I had the problem instead of him.

At first, Jim could carry on polite conversation and talk on the phone without giving away his confusion. He could play his guitar and sing several of his songs. As time passed by, his repertoire dwindled to a few songs. The man who had the talent to sing a song after hearing it one time, no longer existed. For about five years into dementia, Jim could still play “Buckaroo” flawlessly after a few false starts.

Jim had aphasia and he rarely spoke. He had always been a prolific reader, but once following the storyline became impossible, he stopped. He watched “To Hell and Back” so many times that we had to replace the tape—twice. Jim watched “Walker Texas Ranger” and recorded it. Well, sometimes he recorded the commercials and not the show.

When Jim was in long-term care, I worked with the aides and nurses who cared for him while I was at my day job. They knew they could call me anytime day or night. I entrusted Jim’s care to others, but I was the one who knew the nuances of his character, could interpret his body language, and his facial expressions.

As Jim’s advocate, I kept the line of communications open with his caregivers. Occasionally, I even had to write a note and pin it to his bulletin board to make sure the day shift saw it. They had a right to know how to provide person centered care.

 

Copyright © March 2025 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ