Jim liked to play the lottery, and insisted he would eventually hold the winning numbers and become a millionaire. I always said I didn’t want to win.
“That doesn’t make sense. Of course, you want to win!” he insisted.
“No, I don’t. It would just mess up my life,” I said. I had read too many stories about people who won a million dollars and used their newfound wealth to spend themselves into bankruptcy. Too many people think a jackpot is an infinite amount and when they live a multi-millionaire lifestyle, a measly million didn’t go as far as they thought it would.
Well, Jim never hit that jackpot, and I simply don’t play, so there is no danger of me becoming wealthy overnight. Still I was surprised to read a story in the paper a few days ago about someone who wasn’t thrilled by winning $1 million.
Grigory Perelman, a 43-year-old unemployed Russian man, solved a mathematical problem that seemed to be unsolvable and was awarded $1 million for his wisdom. On the surface he seems to be one smart fellow, but he hasn’t accepted his prize money, and isn’t sure he will.
Okay, I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a mathematical genius, but it seems to me that if you had the choice of (a) being unemployed with little or no income or (b) being handed $1 million, odds are you wouldn’t have to be a genius to choose (b).
The International Mathematics Congress isn’t too surprised since Mr. Perelman previously snubbed the Fields Medal, considered to be the equivalent of a Nobel Prize in Mathematics. They are willing to give him time to think about the award and are hopeful he will accept it. I think Perelman should turn the problem into an algebraic equation that plots out his life if he accepts the million versus what happens if he declines.
This story made me stop and think about my long-term attitude that I didn’t want to win the lottery. I can’t see myself turning down $1 million if someone offered it to me. I can’t help but wonder, what is Grigory thinking?
In reality, Jim was the type of person who would turn down $1 million if he thought the money would compromise his principals. When Jim was in Vietnam, he turned down a purple heart because he didn’t consider his wounds to be severe enough to warrant the medal. He received an Army Commendation medal and never told anyone. I learned about it when I saw his discharge papers years later. By then, Jim had dementia and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me why he received the award.
Yes, I could imagine Jim turning down $1 million, but not me—the person who didn’t want her life ruined. I’m much too practical to scoff at instant riches.
On the surface, Grigory Perelman might seem to be foolish to the nth degree, but we don’t know about his life, his expectations, his principals, or how much he wants to remain his own man, a private person.
Apparently, not everyone wants to be a millionaire. Geniuses among us realize riches aren’t measured by dollars, but you don’t have to be brilliant to figure that out.
Copyright (c) April 2010 L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
http://boomerobics.bogspot.com
Monday, April 5, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Deer Tales, Past and Present
Last Monday I was in Wal-Mart, and as I mulled over the reasoning behind putting no bake cheesecake in the baking aisle, my cell phone rang. It was my oldest son, Eric.
After our greetings, he asked, “Do you remember Pam, the woman you stopped to help after she hit the deer that time?”
“Sure,” I said. Several years ago, on the drive to visit Jim in the nursing home, I was following a car that was going the same speed. I thought about passing, but decided to drop behind instead. Soon, I heard a loud pop and a deer went bouncing off the hood of the other car toward the road. Another loud thud and a deer went flying toward the ditch. Shattering glass sprayed in all directions. The car pulled to the side of the road, and I parked behind.
I was worried because a retiree from the company I work for had died after a deer came through his windshield. I ran to the driver’s door and asked the lady if she was okay. She assured me she was fine, but I stayed with her while we waited for the highway patrol.
She introduced herself as Pam, and we soon discovered she worked at the same dealership as my son. Now all these years later, Eric was calling to tell me that Pam had died the night before. “Isn’t she about my age?” I asked. How sad that the only time I had ever talked with her was the night she hit the two deer.
I always felt fortunate that I had never hit a deer considering how plentiful they are in Missouri. One morning a few weeks ago, I stopped while seven deer crossed the road in front of me.
Just recently, my boss hit a deer in the company car and a few days after it was repaired, he hit another with his farm truck. I see deer all the time, but I’ve always managed to slow down and we’ve all gone safely on our way.
Later Monday night on the way home I was thinking about how old my car is getting and decided I needed to buy a new vehicle. This thought had no more crossed my mind when a deer jumped into the road, bounced off the pavement, and made a flying leap into my lane. I hit my brakes, but knew the deer and I were on a collision course. My car thudded into the deer and he careened across my hood. I had a close up view of the deer’s belly and expected him to come crashing through my windshield. Instead, he skidded across the hood and off the other side.
I pulled over to stop on a side road and immediately began to hyperventilate. With trembling fingers, I dialed a number on speed dial and told my friend what had happened. I got out of the car to survey the damage, and thankfully, a young man who lived in a house nearby came out with a flashlight to check on me.
After the highway patrol accident report, I drove my car home. It was missing a headlight and had a banged up hood. I wasn’t hurt, and although I can’t imagine he made it far, the deer had picked himself up and gone back into the field—makes me feel like I fought the deer and the deer won.
The adjuster at Farm Bureau Insurance helped me find a rental car and get my car into the collision center. So now I’m tooling around in a luxury car, and expecting a deer to jump into the road at any time. Logically, I have to consider that until this week, I had driven for more than thirty years without hitting a deer, but now I’m a little paranoid that deer are lurking alongside the road waiting for me to drive by. The deer won’t recognize the rental car will they? How long will it take if I buy a new car before they know it is me driving it?
I guess my out-of-control thoughts are caused by my overactive writer’s imagination, or from watching too many episodes of Twilight Zone when I was a kid. That has to be all it is. Who ever heard of the “Revenge of Bambi”?
copyright (c) March 2010 L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/
After our greetings, he asked, “Do you remember Pam, the woman you stopped to help after she hit the deer that time?”
“Sure,” I said. Several years ago, on the drive to visit Jim in the nursing home, I was following a car that was going the same speed. I thought about passing, but decided to drop behind instead. Soon, I heard a loud pop and a deer went bouncing off the hood of the other car toward the road. Another loud thud and a deer went flying toward the ditch. Shattering glass sprayed in all directions. The car pulled to the side of the road, and I parked behind.
I was worried because a retiree from the company I work for had died after a deer came through his windshield. I ran to the driver’s door and asked the lady if she was okay. She assured me she was fine, but I stayed with her while we waited for the highway patrol.
She introduced herself as Pam, and we soon discovered she worked at the same dealership as my son. Now all these years later, Eric was calling to tell me that Pam had died the night before. “Isn’t she about my age?” I asked. How sad that the only time I had ever talked with her was the night she hit the two deer.
I always felt fortunate that I had never hit a deer considering how plentiful they are in Missouri. One morning a few weeks ago, I stopped while seven deer crossed the road in front of me.
Just recently, my boss hit a deer in the company car and a few days after it was repaired, he hit another with his farm truck. I see deer all the time, but I’ve always managed to slow down and we’ve all gone safely on our way.
Later Monday night on the way home I was thinking about how old my car is getting and decided I needed to buy a new vehicle. This thought had no more crossed my mind when a deer jumped into the road, bounced off the pavement, and made a flying leap into my lane. I hit my brakes, but knew the deer and I were on a collision course. My car thudded into the deer and he careened across my hood. I had a close up view of the deer’s belly and expected him to come crashing through my windshield. Instead, he skidded across the hood and off the other side.
I pulled over to stop on a side road and immediately began to hyperventilate. With trembling fingers, I dialed a number on speed dial and told my friend what had happened. I got out of the car to survey the damage, and thankfully, a young man who lived in a house nearby came out with a flashlight to check on me.
After the highway patrol accident report, I drove my car home. It was missing a headlight and had a banged up hood. I wasn’t hurt, and although I can’t imagine he made it far, the deer had picked himself up and gone back into the field—makes me feel like I fought the deer and the deer won.
The adjuster at Farm Bureau Insurance helped me find a rental car and get my car into the collision center. So now I’m tooling around in a luxury car, and expecting a deer to jump into the road at any time. Logically, I have to consider that until this week, I had driven for more than thirty years without hitting a deer, but now I’m a little paranoid that deer are lurking alongside the road waiting for me to drive by. The deer won’t recognize the rental car will they? How long will it take if I buy a new car before they know it is me driving it?
I guess my out-of-control thoughts are caused by my overactive writer’s imagination, or from watching too many episodes of Twilight Zone when I was a kid. That has to be all it is. Who ever heard of the “Revenge of Bambi”?
copyright (c) March 2010 L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The Best Days of Our Lives
As we wade through the quagmire of life, nostalgia can slam into us with the force of a tidal wave. During the hardest times, it is easy to suffer a case of the used to be’s or might have been’s.Unlike physical life, your emotional well-being benefits more from the occasional tidal wave than the predictability of the tide. Occasional teary eyes about losses can be a healthy release, but constant sadness wears you down and takes a toll on your health as grief robs you of any good days.
Dementia can be a sad and lonely disease. During the ten years of Jim’s dementia, I lived only in the present. I learned to accept him as he was at that moment without comparing him to the man he had been, or worrying about the changes ahead. I didn’t want to become emotionally entangled in reminiscences of better times. While I was a caregiver, any other time, even rough ones, might seem like the best days of my life.
Now, nearly five years after Jim’s death, I don’t dread memories as much. They still sneak up on me and catch me off guard. Yesterday, I opened my patio door to let some fresh spring air into my home, and lit a candle to add a subtle berry scent. Lighting the candle made me pause as a rush of memories washed over me.
A few minutes later, I was putting away the nametag from the Alzheimer’s Action Summit and a basket with Jim’s driver’s license and old eyeglasses caught my attention. I picked up the license and looked at his picture, saw his vital statistics, and noted with sadness that the license expired in 1998. When the picture was taken we didn’t know Jim would develop dementia. Jim is gaunt in the photo, and I remember how concerned we were for him at the time. Inexplicably, he had gone through a period of weight loss, and my heart ached when I held him in my arms and could feel his ribs.
It is strange how some of the smallest routine moments can catapult us into another day or time of our lives. In retrospect, your recollections may be dominated with only good, or entirely bad, memories rather than embracing life’s balance. If you remember only the bad, you let past failures or traumas ruin your present. If you remember only the good, you lose the value of lessons learned and will repeat the same mistakes. Memories, like life, need balance.
Looking back at your life is like looking at a picture of a scenic landscape. A gnarled, barren tree may make the picture more appealing than perfection. You don’t feel sorry for the tree—you just see it as a natural development of time and weather.
We all develop our own version of gnarled trees. It may be the result of hard economic times, poor health, addiction, broken relationships, death, or a myriad of calamities.
Sometimes an entire forest is decimated by a wildfire, and we see only smoldering remains of a previously lush, living landscape. The circle of life embraces us and gives us comfort even when we seem to be surrounded by charred ruins. After the healing power of time, shoots push through the soil, and fast growing trees and shrubs cover the blackened earth.
Part of the secret of letting go of the past is to acknowledge you can’t go back and change what has already happened. You don’t need to long for how your life was at one time, or regret how different your life could have been if you had made better choices. You can only move forward with confidence that the best days of your life are ahead of you, and the best one of all is today.
copyright (c) March 2010 L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/
Saturday, March 13, 2010
My Experience, Our Voice
Once again I made my annual pilgrimage to Washington, DC, and joined other advocates to bring our message to Capitol Hill. This year my friend, Cindy, and my granddaughter went with me. We went a few days early to visit the magnificent museums and monuments scattered throughout our capitol city.Of all the sights in DC, the Vietnam Memorial touches me the most. About twenty years ago, Jim and I went to Washington, DC, on a business trip. Jim had seen the memorial on TV, and being a Vietnam veteran, it was at the top of his “must see” list. We walked hand-in-hand past the memorial that first time, tears streaming down our faces, overwhelmed at the sight of the Wall. The simple, yet majestic, glossy, black granite wall is inscribed with 58,261 names, each representing a life lost.
For the past ten years, I’ve made the trip to Washington, DC, without Jim, but I feel his presence with me, especially when I visit the Wall. Each time I touch its surface, the tears flow for all those lives lost, and for others destroyed by Vietnam—for the wounded in spirit as well as in body.
Vietnam was a burden that rested heavy on Jim’s soul. He struggled with depression verging on despair. Still, he found solace and healing through his musical talent. The most unfortunate symptom of Jim’s dementia was when his smooth singing voice was silenced. I became an Alzheimer’s advocate and his voice by proxy.
A record number of advocates attended the Alzheimer’s Action Summit this year. An alarming number of those with the disease have younger onset. It may be that younger people are more motivated to take on the insurmountable challenges of a disease that many of them never imagined would affect them.
Each of us comes to Washington, DC, from different backgrounds with different stories, or experiences. We came with "One Voice" and a focused approach to bring Alzheimer’s out of the shadows and into the light—hopefully, the spotlight. While mortality from stroke, HIV, heart disease, prostate and breast cancer has decreased in the period of time from 2000-2006, Alzheimer’s deaths have increased by 46.1%. What is the difference? We have focused on those diseases and funded research to find effective treatments.
Alzheimer’s funding in 2009 was $469 million, plus $77 million from the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act. This is far short of the billions spent each year on other major diseases. Without the investment in research, we will never have the payout of success.
Each of us can make a difference by becoming an advocate. If you weren’t able to make it to the Summit, you can still add your voice to the more than 600 advocates who stormed Capitol Hill with the Alzheimer’s message. Pick up the phone and call, or email your legislators, to ask them to support and co-sponsor:
· The Alzheimer’s Breakthrough Act (S. 1492, H.R. 3286). Alzheimer’s research would become a priority of the National Institutes of Aging and funding established at $2 billion. It would also include a study of the unique problems facing those with younger-onset dementia.
· Alzheimer’s Detection, Diagnosis, Care, and Planning Act will help expedite diagnosis and bundle services to ensure care planning to maintain quality of life. It is estimated that currently less than half of the people with dementia have been diagnosed.
· The National Alzheimer’s Project Act (S. 3036, H.R. 4689) would create a National Alzheimer’s Disease Plan. Currently 5.3 million Americans have Alzheimer’s and without a cure as many as 16 million will have the disease by mid-century.
Alzheimer’s is an expensive disease. Medicare costs are six times higher for a person with Alzheimer’s, Medicaid is a staggering nine times higher, and private insurance costs are 26% more. The monetary cost doesn’t even come close to the emotional toll this disease takes on the entire family when a beloved relative develops dementia. Share your experiences so that our voices will be heard.
copyright (c) 2010 L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Monday, March 8, 2010
We Shall Overcome
Tonight at the Alzheimer’s Action Summit Candlelight Vigil more than six hundred voices sang “We Shall Overcome.” Accompanied by an acoustic guitar and with candles held high, the sheer grit and determination of the advocates makes overcoming Alzheimer’s seem more a palpable possibility that just a lofty goal.Steve spoke of living with Alzheimer’s. How we need to use our voices to deliver a firm message that Alzheimer’s is the seventh leading cause of death. It is time to stop accepting crumbs that fall from the table. The time of polite asking has come to an end.
David Hyde Pierce motivated us to make our VOICE heard at the Capitol, the White House, and across the nation. Those of us at the Candlelight Rally were joined by more than 10,000 virtual candles.
This is the tenth time I’ve lit my candle at the vigil. Something seemed different this time. Maybe it’s something as subtle as the name change from Public Policy Forum to Action Summit. Maybe it’s because we didn’t just have a vigil, we experienced a rally. Whatever the difference, the determination and spirit of this group makes me think we really shall overcome.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Travel Adventure: Where Did I Park The Plane?
Coming from rural Missouri I don’t have many occasions to use public transportation. A trip to the Alzheimer’s Action Summit gave me a chance to get more than my fill of it.
It seems like things change all the time, but it's never for the better. An early morning flight used to mean you woke up early and headed for the airport. (Well, there was that one time when Jim dropped me off and the flight started boarding before he got back from parking the car.) Now, it means you need to find a place to stay the night before so you can get to the terminal on time. You have to allow extra time to be scrutinized.
I am not the least bit nervous about flying, but things can go awry in a hurry. Once you’ve done everything you can—stay the night, get up at an obscene hour, and hop in the hotel van hours ahead of time. The hotel driver makes the trip several times a day, so you just leave your timely arrival in his capable hands. The sign plainly says, “Midwest—Terminal A.” The driver whipped around the terminal. “Did I miss it?” he asked.
“I didn’t see it either,” I said. Of course, I was depending on him to see it. My friend, Cindy, and my granddaughter were in the back seat and they didn’t see it either.
We looped around the circle again. This time we stopped in front of another airline and Cindy jumped out to ask them where to find Midwest. “They moved to Terminal C yesterday, but they haven’t changed the sign.”
Our driver drove us to Terminal C and, sure enough, there they were. We checked in and paid $20 for every bag we checked. After having our belongings X-rayed, and thankfully not our bodies, we were seated in the holding area and hooked up to the Internet in no time.
Eventually, the pilot showed up. “No one told me we had changed terminals,” he said. Ooops, shouldn’t he have gotten the memo even if the passengers hadn’t? I don’t think he was too happy. Minutes before the boarding call, a flight attendant showed up.
We boarded and prepared for take-off. The pilot taxied, and taxied, and taxied. We were beginning to think he was going to drive to DC. I figured the control tower didn’t know what the heck Midwest was doing at Terminal C either. It is possible that the kid at the mike didn’t want to clear an unauthorized plane. We thought maybe the pilot went back to Terminal A to take off on familiar turf.
In the air we get the bad news that we will get only complimentary drinks—no snacks and no chocolate chip cookies before 10 a.m. I was pretty coffee logged so decided to go with juice. Tomato juice sounded good. “Do you want plain or spicy?” the flight attendant asked.
“Might as well have spicy,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll have heartburn anyway.”
“Do you want some lime in it?”
“Sure, sounds good to me.”
She poured a small glass and handed it to me. Wow. It was really hot, but it was tasty. And the lime was a great touch.
Later the flight attendant brought me the rest of the can. “No one else wanted any,” she said. A whole plane full of people, and I’m the only one that likes spicy tomato juice? The spicy tomato juice was Bloody Mary mix. No wonder the lime tasted so good in it.
When we got to DC, the plane looped in a big circle in one direction, reversed the circle in the other direction. Round and round we go. Who knows what was going on? Finally we landed and were on our way to the hotel.
Later in the day the big adventure was riding the subway to see the sites. With no help in sight, a gaggle of tourists tried to decipher the machines. After several false starts, we finally bought day passes and headed out.
While we waited for the first subway, a recorded voice explained that unlike elevator doors, subway doors will crush you like an aluminum can if you get caught in the door. Well, she didn’t say it in those exact words, but that’s what she meant. All I can say is the announcement put the fear of God in me. I made sure my granddaughter was between Cindy and me because I wanted to make sure that if one of us had to abandon getting on a car my granddaughter would be with one of us and not standing alone on the platform.
After a day of ankle-swelling, aching-back walking, and riding on crowded subway cars, we passed by the same set of machines. Cindy tried to cash in her ticket, but couldn’t figure it out while at the same time trying to explain to a bemused tourist how to buy a ticket. He just wasn’t getting it. I put my ticket in the machine and it said, “See a manager.” Yeah, right. I’m not so sure there is a manager, much less actually finding a human who fit that description.
“Here,” I said, handing the tourist my pass. “Take this. It’s good for the rest of the day.” I knew that with my aching feet, they couldn’t pay me to get back on that subway.
For sure, traveling is always an adventure. At least with the afternoon ride home, we don’t have to get up early and better yet, Midwest serves those delicious chocolate chip cookies. I don’t think I’ll be having any Bloody Mary mix with that. That would be taking adventure to a whole new level.
It seems like things change all the time, but it's never for the better. An early morning flight used to mean you woke up early and headed for the airport. (Well, there was that one time when Jim dropped me off and the flight started boarding before he got back from parking the car.) Now, it means you need to find a place to stay the night before so you can get to the terminal on time. You have to allow extra time to be scrutinized.
I am not the least bit nervous about flying, but things can go awry in a hurry. Once you’ve done everything you can—stay the night, get up at an obscene hour, and hop in the hotel van hours ahead of time. The hotel driver makes the trip several times a day, so you just leave your timely arrival in his capable hands. The sign plainly says, “Midwest—Terminal A.” The driver whipped around the terminal. “Did I miss it?” he asked.
“I didn’t see it either,” I said. Of course, I was depending on him to see it. My friend, Cindy, and my granddaughter were in the back seat and they didn’t see it either.
We looped around the circle again. This time we stopped in front of another airline and Cindy jumped out to ask them where to find Midwest. “They moved to Terminal C yesterday, but they haven’t changed the sign.”
Our driver drove us to Terminal C and, sure enough, there they were. We checked in and paid $20 for every bag we checked. After having our belongings X-rayed, and thankfully not our bodies, we were seated in the holding area and hooked up to the Internet in no time.
Eventually, the pilot showed up. “No one told me we had changed terminals,” he said. Ooops, shouldn’t he have gotten the memo even if the passengers hadn’t? I don’t think he was too happy. Minutes before the boarding call, a flight attendant showed up.
We boarded and prepared for take-off. The pilot taxied, and taxied, and taxied. We were beginning to think he was going to drive to DC. I figured the control tower didn’t know what the heck Midwest was doing at Terminal C either. It is possible that the kid at the mike didn’t want to clear an unauthorized plane. We thought maybe the pilot went back to Terminal A to take off on familiar turf.
In the air we get the bad news that we will get only complimentary drinks—no snacks and no chocolate chip cookies before 10 a.m. I was pretty coffee logged so decided to go with juice. Tomato juice sounded good. “Do you want plain or spicy?” the flight attendant asked.
“Might as well have spicy,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll have heartburn anyway.”
“Do you want some lime in it?”
“Sure, sounds good to me.”
She poured a small glass and handed it to me. Wow. It was really hot, but it was tasty. And the lime was a great touch.
Later the flight attendant brought me the rest of the can. “No one else wanted any,” she said. A whole plane full of people, and I’m the only one that likes spicy tomato juice? The spicy tomato juice was Bloody Mary mix. No wonder the lime tasted so good in it.
When we got to DC, the plane looped in a big circle in one direction, reversed the circle in the other direction. Round and round we go. Who knows what was going on? Finally we landed and were on our way to the hotel.
Later in the day the big adventure was riding the subway to see the sites. With no help in sight, a gaggle of tourists tried to decipher the machines. After several false starts, we finally bought day passes and headed out.
While we waited for the first subway, a recorded voice explained that unlike elevator doors, subway doors will crush you like an aluminum can if you get caught in the door. Well, she didn’t say it in those exact words, but that’s what she meant. All I can say is the announcement put the fear of God in me. I made sure my granddaughter was between Cindy and me because I wanted to make sure that if one of us had to abandon getting on a car my granddaughter would be with one of us and not standing alone on the platform.
After a day of ankle-swelling, aching-back walking, and riding on crowded subway cars, we passed by the same set of machines. Cindy tried to cash in her ticket, but couldn’t figure it out while at the same time trying to explain to a bemused tourist how to buy a ticket. He just wasn’t getting it. I put my ticket in the machine and it said, “See a manager.” Yeah, right. I’m not so sure there is a manager, much less actually finding a human who fit that description.
“Here,” I said, handing the tourist my pass. “Take this. It’s good for the rest of the day.” I knew that with my aching feet, they couldn’t pay me to get back on that subway.
For sure, traveling is always an adventure. At least with the afternoon ride home, we don’t have to get up early and better yet, Midwest serves those delicious chocolate chip cookies. I don’t think I’ll be having any Bloody Mary mix with that. That would be taking adventure to a whole new level.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Keeping Life in Balance
I believe life is all about balance. I don’t know how it works; I just know it does. If things are really going well, something bad will happen. If things are looking so down that the only way is up, you can bet something good will come along. I couldn’t count the times we had a bill come due, and if we didn’t have the money on hand, somewhere or somehow we would get a windfall to cover it.
One time when we were going through a really tough time, Jim cleaned out his wallet and found a $100 bill tucked away in one of those secret pockets so many wallets have. One day the phone rang and it was a woman calling from a place Jim had worked several years before. They had been trying to locate him to send a vacation check they owed him. The check came in the mail the same day we received a bill for the same amount.
In the past few weeks several things happened to remind me of balance. Thursday night I came home from work to discover a $100 check in the mail for winnings from a writing contest I had entered months ago.
Friday night, I went to a play for an evening of relaxation after a hard week at work. My friend, Cindy, and I had great seats, but I was sitting next to a woman who began to cough. She coughed and coughed. I’m thinking I really don’t want to catch something with a trip coming up soon.
When I got home from the play, I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I walked through the door and smelled something burning. I checked the usual suspects: my coffee pot, my curling iron, and my iron. They were all off. Following my nose I headed toward the basement to discover my heat pump was making an unusual humming sound. I checked the vents and no air seemed to be blowing out of them. I turned off the heat pump and tried to figure out what to do. The temperature was already dropping for the night. I called a friend and he said it sounded like it was my fan. He called a repair service and found out that the repair would be overtime whether the repairman came that night or waited until Saturday. The charge was estimated at $300.
The repairman, Steve, plugged my address into a GPS and only called for further directions after he was in my neighborhood. He had the heat pump up and running in no time. It was an inexpensive capacitor and not the fan so the repair came in at just a little more than $100 which pretty much equaled my windfall of a few nights before.
I hope this balance theory works for health too. My blood pressure was great, so I had high hopes that my blood work would be good news for a change too. Every year, my numbers just keep climbing. This year, they lowered the threshold on blood glucose levels, so that number was marked *HI. To top it off, I had a new one crop up. My uric acid levels were *HI also. I know enough to know that uric acid and gout go hand-in-hand.
Most, if not all, of my health problems are caused by the extra twenty pounds I’m carrying around. Aw, but for the good old days when I was merely overweight and not (according to those new lower thresholds again) obese. Another part of my life where I need to find balance is on my scales.
Just like after last year’s health fair, I am determined to lose weight and regain healthy lower numbers. Saturday at my granddaughter’s basketball game, I told my son that I was going to eat just enough to stay alive. Of course, I had just polished off a bag of Doritos because I didn’t have time to stop for lunch and the food choices were quite limited at the game.
“Apparently you need Doritos to stay alive,” he said.
“I think they have to be listed with the other staples,” I agreed.
OK, so maybe I can’t really eat just enough to stay alive and still have Doritos from time to time. I don’t believe in going to diet extremes. In the first place, dieting makes me really cranky. And after I work really, really hard to lose five pounds, I eat one normal meal and it’s baaaaack.
Experts say it’s all about balance. Eat healthy foods, exercise, and the next thing you know you look like a supermodel.
My dad struggled with weight all his life. He often said, “When you go on a diet and never eat the things you like, you may not live longer, but it sure seems like you do.”
Who wants to face life eating only food that is good for you and not food you crave and love? I don’t know about you, but it sure makes me want to eat a bag of Doritos. I would only eat a small bag though because I believe in balance. Oh, yeah, and eating only enough to stay alive.
One time when we were going through a really tough time, Jim cleaned out his wallet and found a $100 bill tucked away in one of those secret pockets so many wallets have. One day the phone rang and it was a woman calling from a place Jim had worked several years before. They had been trying to locate him to send a vacation check they owed him. The check came in the mail the same day we received a bill for the same amount.
In the past few weeks several things happened to remind me of balance. Thursday night I came home from work to discover a $100 check in the mail for winnings from a writing contest I had entered months ago.
Friday night, I went to a play for an evening of relaxation after a hard week at work. My friend, Cindy, and I had great seats, but I was sitting next to a woman who began to cough. She coughed and coughed. I’m thinking I really don’t want to catch something with a trip coming up soon.
When I got home from the play, I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I walked through the door and smelled something burning. I checked the usual suspects: my coffee pot, my curling iron, and my iron. They were all off. Following my nose I headed toward the basement to discover my heat pump was making an unusual humming sound. I checked the vents and no air seemed to be blowing out of them. I turned off the heat pump and tried to figure out what to do. The temperature was already dropping for the night. I called a friend and he said it sounded like it was my fan. He called a repair service and found out that the repair would be overtime whether the repairman came that night or waited until Saturday. The charge was estimated at $300.
The repairman, Steve, plugged my address into a GPS and only called for further directions after he was in my neighborhood. He had the heat pump up and running in no time. It was an inexpensive capacitor and not the fan so the repair came in at just a little more than $100 which pretty much equaled my windfall of a few nights before.
I hope this balance theory works for health too. My blood pressure was great, so I had high hopes that my blood work would be good news for a change too. Every year, my numbers just keep climbing. This year, they lowered the threshold on blood glucose levels, so that number was marked *HI. To top it off, I had a new one crop up. My uric acid levels were *HI also. I know enough to know that uric acid and gout go hand-in-hand.
Most, if not all, of my health problems are caused by the extra twenty pounds I’m carrying around. Aw, but for the good old days when I was merely overweight and not (according to those new lower thresholds again) obese. Another part of my life where I need to find balance is on my scales.
Just like after last year’s health fair, I am determined to lose weight and regain healthy lower numbers. Saturday at my granddaughter’s basketball game, I told my son that I was going to eat just enough to stay alive. Of course, I had just polished off a bag of Doritos because I didn’t have time to stop for lunch and the food choices were quite limited at the game.
“Apparently you need Doritos to stay alive,” he said.
“I think they have to be listed with the other staples,” I agreed.
OK, so maybe I can’t really eat just enough to stay alive and still have Doritos from time to time. I don’t believe in going to diet extremes. In the first place, dieting makes me really cranky. And after I work really, really hard to lose five pounds, I eat one normal meal and it’s baaaaack.
Experts say it’s all about balance. Eat healthy foods, exercise, and the next thing you know you look like a supermodel.
My dad struggled with weight all his life. He often said, “When you go on a diet and never eat the things you like, you may not live longer, but it sure seems like you do.”
Who wants to face life eating only food that is good for you and not food you crave and love? I don’t know about you, but it sure makes me want to eat a bag of Doritos. I would only eat a small bag though because I believe in balance. Oh, yeah, and eating only enough to stay alive.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Let the Games Begin
I don’t know how the athletes are holding up, but watching the Olympics is wearing me out. I’ve not been to bed at a decent hour all week, and the Games have interfered with my TV routine too. I watched the selection of the twenty-four finalists on American Idol and Men’s Figure Skating at the same time. I began to feel positively artsy with the cultural overload.
This has been a glorious week for us ice skating fans. The drama of quads versus triple jumps plus spirals, steps, footwork, and transitions determined the difference between gold and silver. In my opinion, Evan Lysacek deserved the gold based on his overall performance. Sure, Yevgeny Plushenko had a power-house quad, but the rest of his program was mediocre.
Throughout the Olympics, athletes come to the games looking for a chance to outshine every other person competing in the same sport. For some, it’s the performance of a lifetime. Others stumble, fall, and jump back up to finish the competition or to smile and wave at the audience to let them know they are OK. Some athletes crave victory so much they choke and perform far below their potential.
We are surrounded by people who think one spectacular moment is more important than a lifetime of dedication to the details. They think jumps replace steps and a moment of glory is preferable to hanging in there to get the job done. The limelight must shine on them, or they lose interest.
Last night one of the announcers talked about how some of the top skiers showed up in style with 60 pairs of skies, technical advisors, and entourages. Bryon Wilson from Butte, Montana, in contrast, found support for his quest for an Olympic medal from hometown fundraisers like bake sales. The point being that whether the journey is easy or hard, once you are on the downhill slope and picking up speed, your chances are the same.
Those of us who have spent years advocating for a cure and effective treatment for Alzheimer’s are ready to leave the practice slope and compete with the big boys. Our journey for research funding has been a hard one—more in line with bake sales than big money and entourages. Alzheimer’s isn’t a trendy disease catching the attention of media or a bevy of superstars.
We are a disease represented by family members who know the pain of losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s. Sure, we have some celebrity spokespersons, and we appreciate all they do to promote awareness and help us in the battle for funding. David Hyde Pierce is one celebrity who has made Alzheimer’s awareness a personal mission. His steadfastness is unwavering.
To find funding in a tight economy takes years of persistence, dedication, and passion. Advocates return year after year to represent the 5.3 million Americans with Alzheimer’s. Without a cure, the number of cases will triple when the baby boomers age.
One sure thing—you can’t compete if you don’t show up for the event. If you cannot attend the Action Summit in March, lend your voice through an email or phone call to your legislators.
Tell your story and ask for their support to end this disease that steals a lifetime of memories. Support the 600 Alzheimer’s advocates who will be in Washington, DC, to compete for Alzheimer’s research dollars in a down economy and against a host of financial issues.
Instead of lighting an Olympic torch, we will light hundreds of candles for the Candlelight Vigil on March 8. Our candles shine in memory of our loved ones lost to the disease and with hope for a future without Alzheimer’s. When researchers find a cure for Alzheimer’s, we will cross that finish lane with arms held high in victory.
This has been a glorious week for us ice skating fans. The drama of quads versus triple jumps plus spirals, steps, footwork, and transitions determined the difference between gold and silver. In my opinion, Evan Lysacek deserved the gold based on his overall performance. Sure, Yevgeny Plushenko had a power-house quad, but the rest of his program was mediocre.
Throughout the Olympics, athletes come to the games looking for a chance to outshine every other person competing in the same sport. For some, it’s the performance of a lifetime. Others stumble, fall, and jump back up to finish the competition or to smile and wave at the audience to let them know they are OK. Some athletes crave victory so much they choke and perform far below their potential.
We are surrounded by people who think one spectacular moment is more important than a lifetime of dedication to the details. They think jumps replace steps and a moment of glory is preferable to hanging in there to get the job done. The limelight must shine on them, or they lose interest.
Last night one of the announcers talked about how some of the top skiers showed up in style with 60 pairs of skies, technical advisors, and entourages. Bryon Wilson from Butte, Montana, in contrast, found support for his quest for an Olympic medal from hometown fundraisers like bake sales. The point being that whether the journey is easy or hard, once you are on the downhill slope and picking up speed, your chances are the same.
Those of us who have spent years advocating for a cure and effective treatment for Alzheimer’s are ready to leave the practice slope and compete with the big boys. Our journey for research funding has been a hard one—more in line with bake sales than big money and entourages. Alzheimer’s isn’t a trendy disease catching the attention of media or a bevy of superstars.
We are a disease represented by family members who know the pain of losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s. Sure, we have some celebrity spokespersons, and we appreciate all they do to promote awareness and help us in the battle for funding. David Hyde Pierce is one celebrity who has made Alzheimer’s awareness a personal mission. His steadfastness is unwavering.
To find funding in a tight economy takes years of persistence, dedication, and passion. Advocates return year after year to represent the 5.3 million Americans with Alzheimer’s. Without a cure, the number of cases will triple when the baby boomers age.
One sure thing—you can’t compete if you don’t show up for the event. If you cannot attend the Action Summit in March, lend your voice through an email or phone call to your legislators.
Tell your story and ask for their support to end this disease that steals a lifetime of memories. Support the 600 Alzheimer’s advocates who will be in Washington, DC, to compete for Alzheimer’s research dollars in a down economy and against a host of financial issues.
Instead of lighting an Olympic torch, we will light hundreds of candles for the Candlelight Vigil on March 8. Our candles shine in memory of our loved ones lost to the disease and with hope for a future without Alzheimer’s. When researchers find a cure for Alzheimer’s, we will cross that finish lane with arms held high in victory.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Social Security Expedited for Younger Onset Alzheimer’s
The Social Security Administration announced this week that younger onset Alzheimer’s has been added to the list of conditions covered by its Compassionate Allowances Initiative. This is good news for families with a loved one who developed dementia prior to age sixty-five.
Those of us who have had family members with early onset dementia know how difficult and frustrating the system is to navigate. Early onset means your loved one is too young to receive regular social security or Medicare. Younger people with a disability must apply for Social Security Disability Insurance and Supplemental Security Income. Once a disability is determined, it can take years of denial and appeals before the disabled person receives benefits.
When Jim developed dementia at forty-nine, we discovered he was too young to receive many of the benefits in place to help older adults. The only financial assistance I was able to find for respite care was the Alzheimer’s Association. They had limited funds available, but even those limited funds helped. Jim was too young for respite funds through the Division of Aging.
Fortunately, I was employed and had health insurance. Because of my health insurance, we were able to get Jim the best treatment possible.
Before this latest development, the long delay for Social Security disability left many families financially destitute. Too often the person with dementia loses his job before being officially diagnosed. Job performance suffers from the earliest dementia symptoms. Loss of job could mean loss of insurance. In addition to the emotional toll, the dire financial strain associated with younger onset Alzheimer’s is overwhelming for the family.
Compassionate Allowances greatly reduces the wait time before benefits take effect. Not only will this relieve some of the financial burden of an expensive disease, it will also let people benefit from early treatment at the time when treatment is most effective.
Since 2003, advocates have shared their personal stories about the hardship caused by delays in Social Security disability benefits for their loved ones. Each year at the Alzheimer’s Association Advocacy Forum in Washington, DC, we have asked for a reduction in the wait time for Social Security benefits. Our voices were heard and the Social Security Administration hosted a public hearing in Chicago last summer to consider the validity of adding Alzheimer’s to the list of diseases to be fast-tracked for benefits.
Alzheimer’s at any age is a difficult disease for the entire family. In younger onset, children may still be in the home, and families have been forced to make difficult decisions. A child’s college fund may be used to provide medical or respite care for the parent with dementia. Some families may still have to make these tough choices, but others will find adequate financial relief from Medicare and Social Security Disability benefits.
Next month, the Alzheimer’s Association will hold its Advocacy Forum. Advocates will come from throughout the United States to bring awareness of how Alzheimer’s impacts our future as a nation. It is imperative that we invest in the future of our country by finding effective treatment for Alzheimer’s and by taking care of those with the disease.
Each year new advocates attend the forum. Advocates are updated on current statistics, attend a candlelight vigil, and receive training on how to make the most of their time with their legislators. We deliver packets of information to our senators and representatives, but more important than the alarming statistics is sharing our individual stories with them.
Advocates give a face to the disease. They share how devastating the disease is on a personal level. Some advocates only participate once, but others return year after year. This will be my tenth consecutive forum.
This will be the first forum for my friend, Cindy, and my twelve-year-old granddaughter. I took my grandson when he was twelve, and now it is my granddaughter’s turn. I have two smaller grandchildren and by the time they are twelve, they will probably have to take me. I hope each of my grandchildren experiences being an Alzheimer's advocate.
Alzheimer’s Association advocates chip away at the obstacles the disease throws in life’s pathway. Alzheimer’s addition to the Compassionate Allowances Initiative is a leap in the right direction. Families dealing with early onset dementia now have one less hurtle to overcome. Alzheimer’s is a disease fraught with problems, and eliminating the long wait for Social Security Disability is a victory.
Those of us who have had family members with early onset dementia know how difficult and frustrating the system is to navigate. Early onset means your loved one is too young to receive regular social security or Medicare. Younger people with a disability must apply for Social Security Disability Insurance and Supplemental Security Income. Once a disability is determined, it can take years of denial and appeals before the disabled person receives benefits.
When Jim developed dementia at forty-nine, we discovered he was too young to receive many of the benefits in place to help older adults. The only financial assistance I was able to find for respite care was the Alzheimer’s Association. They had limited funds available, but even those limited funds helped. Jim was too young for respite funds through the Division of Aging.
Fortunately, I was employed and had health insurance. Because of my health insurance, we were able to get Jim the best treatment possible.
Before this latest development, the long delay for Social Security disability left many families financially destitute. Too often the person with dementia loses his job before being officially diagnosed. Job performance suffers from the earliest dementia symptoms. Loss of job could mean loss of insurance. In addition to the emotional toll, the dire financial strain associated with younger onset Alzheimer’s is overwhelming for the family.
Compassionate Allowances greatly reduces the wait time before benefits take effect. Not only will this relieve some of the financial burden of an expensive disease, it will also let people benefit from early treatment at the time when treatment is most effective.
Since 2003, advocates have shared their personal stories about the hardship caused by delays in Social Security disability benefits for their loved ones. Each year at the Alzheimer’s Association Advocacy Forum in Washington, DC, we have asked for a reduction in the wait time for Social Security benefits. Our voices were heard and the Social Security Administration hosted a public hearing in Chicago last summer to consider the validity of adding Alzheimer’s to the list of diseases to be fast-tracked for benefits.
Alzheimer’s at any age is a difficult disease for the entire family. In younger onset, children may still be in the home, and families have been forced to make difficult decisions. A child’s college fund may be used to provide medical or respite care for the parent with dementia. Some families may still have to make these tough choices, but others will find adequate financial relief from Medicare and Social Security Disability benefits.
Next month, the Alzheimer’s Association will hold its Advocacy Forum. Advocates will come from throughout the United States to bring awareness of how Alzheimer’s impacts our future as a nation. It is imperative that we invest in the future of our country by finding effective treatment for Alzheimer’s and by taking care of those with the disease.
Each year new advocates attend the forum. Advocates are updated on current statistics, attend a candlelight vigil, and receive training on how to make the most of their time with their legislators. We deliver packets of information to our senators and representatives, but more important than the alarming statistics is sharing our individual stories with them.
Advocates give a face to the disease. They share how devastating the disease is on a personal level. Some advocates only participate once, but others return year after year. This will be my tenth consecutive forum.
This will be the first forum for my friend, Cindy, and my twelve-year-old granddaughter. I took my grandson when he was twelve, and now it is my granddaughter’s turn. I have two smaller grandchildren and by the time they are twelve, they will probably have to take me. I hope each of my grandchildren experiences being an Alzheimer's advocate.
Alzheimer’s Association advocates chip away at the obstacles the disease throws in life’s pathway. Alzheimer’s addition to the Compassionate Allowances Initiative is a leap in the right direction. Families dealing with early onset dementia now have one less hurtle to overcome. Alzheimer’s is a disease fraught with problems, and eliminating the long wait for Social Security Disability is a victory.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Ambassador to Ambassador
I am an Alzheimer’s Ambassador and will participate in Memory Day later this month. On this special day, hundreds of Alzheimer’s advocates converge on the state capitol to discuss Alzheimer’s impact on the state of Missouri.
Besides being an Alzheimer’s Ambassador, I am a grassroots advocate for rural electric cooperatives. Earlier this week, my coworker, Brenda, and I participated in the legislative conference and visited our legislators on behalf of Central Missouri Electric Cooperative.
After a breakfast meeting, we trekked up the hill to the capitol. We took a shortcut through the Truman Building and stopped for a cup of coffee with my brother who works there. When we moved on to the capitol, we met other advocates leaving who informed us that everyone was on the floor, so we probably wouldn’t get to see our representatives. We dropped off cards at our representative’s offices and stopped at the office of Senator Delbert Scott.
“He’s in his office but is headed to the floor,” his legislative aide said.
The senator stopped to shake hands with us. “Would you like to walk with me?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “We will do a walk and talk.”
We discussed cooperative issues while we walked down a flight of stairs. When we reached the “Admittance by Invitation Only” door, he invited us in. He pointed to a bench and told us to sit there as long as we wanted. We wrote our names on a form, and settled in to see how the senate works.
Before long a group of oriental people came through a side door. A distinguished looking gentleman sat next to me on the bench while several others stood behind us. All cameras were trained in our direction. That really made us feel special.
Brenda and I took off our coats exposing our photogenic sweaters—mine a bright blue and Brenda’s a stunning tangerine. We looked like peacocks in a room of dignified dark suits.
Senator Scott introduced Brenda and me as his special guests. We stood to be recognized. The senate president pro tem stood to introduce Zhou Wenzhong, Ambassador from China, who was visiting Missouri in regard to St. Louis becoming a trade hub.
The distinguished gentleman to my right stood and the Missouri version of paparazzi kept their cameras rolling. I wanted to shake his hand, but wasn’t sure about Chinese protocol and didn’t want to offend him.
The senate recessed to visit the Chinese Ambassador in the lounge. The ambassador stood to leave, but turned to me and extended his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. After our handshake, he shook hands with Brenda.
Another man in the group shook hands with us too. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, as if he should have, “but I’m sure you are honorable people to be here.”
For just a moment, I was taken aback, and felt like a star-struck gate crasher. Just by chance, Brenda and I experienced a historical moment in Missouri history.
We were on the evening news and our moment is caught on a State of Missouri archive tape. As a friend of mine said, “You’ve had one minute of fame and fourteen more to go.”
I don’t expect anything like this experience to happen again. What are the odds that another foreign ambassador would be at the Missouri State Capitol at the exact moment I am there?
It is likely that several Alzheimer’s Ambassadors will be among the hundreds of advocates visiting the state capitol on Memory Day. Some of the ambassadors are already my friends, and I will meet more at the state capitol. One thing is for sure, their participation in Memory Day is proof they are honorable people.
Besides being an Alzheimer’s Ambassador, I am a grassroots advocate for rural electric cooperatives. Earlier this week, my coworker, Brenda, and I participated in the legislative conference and visited our legislators on behalf of Central Missouri Electric Cooperative.
After a breakfast meeting, we trekked up the hill to the capitol. We took a shortcut through the Truman Building and stopped for a cup of coffee with my brother who works there. When we moved on to the capitol, we met other advocates leaving who informed us that everyone was on the floor, so we probably wouldn’t get to see our representatives. We dropped off cards at our representative’s offices and stopped at the office of Senator Delbert Scott.
“He’s in his office but is headed to the floor,” his legislative aide said.
The senator stopped to shake hands with us. “Would you like to walk with me?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “We will do a walk and talk.”
We discussed cooperative issues while we walked down a flight of stairs. When we reached the “Admittance by Invitation Only” door, he invited us in. He pointed to a bench and told us to sit there as long as we wanted. We wrote our names on a form, and settled in to see how the senate works.
Before long a group of oriental people came through a side door. A distinguished looking gentleman sat next to me on the bench while several others stood behind us. All cameras were trained in our direction. That really made us feel special.
Brenda and I took off our coats exposing our photogenic sweaters—mine a bright blue and Brenda’s a stunning tangerine. We looked like peacocks in a room of dignified dark suits.
Senator Scott introduced Brenda and me as his special guests. We stood to be recognized. The senate president pro tem stood to introduce Zhou Wenzhong, Ambassador from China, who was visiting Missouri in regard to St. Louis becoming a trade hub.
The distinguished gentleman to my right stood and the Missouri version of paparazzi kept their cameras rolling. I wanted to shake his hand, but wasn’t sure about Chinese protocol and didn’t want to offend him.
The senate recessed to visit the Chinese Ambassador in the lounge. The ambassador stood to leave, but turned to me and extended his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. After our handshake, he shook hands with Brenda.
Another man in the group shook hands with us too. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, as if he should have, “but I’m sure you are honorable people to be here.”
For just a moment, I was taken aback, and felt like a star-struck gate crasher. Just by chance, Brenda and I experienced a historical moment in Missouri history.
We were on the evening news and our moment is caught on a State of Missouri archive tape. As a friend of mine said, “You’ve had one minute of fame and fourteen more to go.”
I don’t expect anything like this experience to happen again. What are the odds that another foreign ambassador would be at the Missouri State Capitol at the exact moment I am there?
It is likely that several Alzheimer’s Ambassadors will be among the hundreds of advocates visiting the state capitol on Memory Day. Some of the ambassadors are already my friends, and I will meet more at the state capitol. One thing is for sure, their participation in Memory Day is proof they are honorable people.
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