Things that Go Bump in the Night

Early morning New Year’s Day, I heard what sounded like something falling. The noise startled me, but more concerning was a sound that could only be described as a jet engine taking off. I wandered through the house trying to locate the source, and thought it might be the attic fan. I turned the switch to the “off” position and went to bed.

At two a.m., I heard the sound again. Since my arthritis had been acting up, I limped through the house, but couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the noise.

I finally took the chairlift to the basement and discovered the furnace was vibrating. I went upstairs, and turned the thermostat down and went to bed. About five, the heat kicked on and I called the afterhours number for the heating and cooling company we have always used.

My sisters, sister-in-law, and Mom were on their way to visit, and I had full confidence that the heat would be back on by the time they arrived.

The technician arrived and after he had me sign an agreement to pay holiday rate, he went to turned up the thermostat to hear the noise. The HVAC technician attempted to tighten the part that failed, but as soon as he turned the system on…same noise. The verdict was it needed parts to fix the problem and they could not be ordered until the next day, of course. He suggested I use space heaters to keep the house warm.

When they saw what a hard time I had walking, my sisters and sister-in-law went to town to buy space heaters for me. Mom and I sat in front of the baseboard heater in the sunroom and visited until they returned.

I put some extra blankets on the bed and spent a comfortable night. The next day, I found out the parts were scheduled to come in Monday. With an epic ice/snowstorm predicted for Sunday, I offered to pay the $100 to have the parts sent over night. Problem solved, right?

Wrong. The parts didn’t come in Friday, but instead were “delayed” in Ft. Worth. The parts manager called in a favor and had a substitute part brought in from Kansas City, but although it was the correct size, the fan turned in the wrong direction. Back to square one.

My thoughts were that if the part didn’t come in Friday, it would surely be here Saturday. The parts guy gave me the tracking number but when I checked the progress, the package was “delayed.”

I know how hard it is to talk to a real person at UPS, but I made a valiant attempt anyway, and after a long wait on hold, I talked to someone. I explained the situation to him—furnace out, big house, space heaters, storm coming, and single digit temps. He gave me a case number and transferred me to a supervisor.

While I was on hold for another twenty minutes “expected delivery” popped up on the screen and it said Monday. When the supervisor came on the line, she said, “Sorry for the inconvenience, but your package was put on the wrong truck. It will arrive on Monday.”

Looking at the details, I could see the package had been delayed 15 hours before it was rerouted to the airport in Illinois. “Our planes do not fly on the weekends,” she said.

“So I paid extra to have it sent overnight and because of that, it can’t possibly get here until Monday? If you can put it on a truck to Illinois why can’t you put it on a truck to Missouri?”

“So sorry for the inconvenience,” she said.

I could feel my temper rising, “It’s more than an inconvenience. There’s an epic storm coming Sunday, and they may not be able to get here to put the part in Monday. My dog and I will be trapped in a house without a furnace in freezing weather. Whose fault is it that it was put on the wrong truck? ” It was a rhetorical question because we both knew the answer.

After a moment of silence, she said, “I can’t promise, but I’ll try to get it on a truck to you by tomorrow.”

Well, there is the “I can’t promise” part, so I’m not holding my breath.

Although my situation is not good, my heart goes out to caregivers who have to worry about their loved ones. Bad situations are only worse when you are responsible for the care and comfort of another person. With ice and heavy snow in the forecast, power outages may mean I’m not the only one without heat.

On the bright side, our generator was recently tested and working well. I’ve been able to wear the heavy sweatshirts and sweaters that I had always saved for a day outdoors. I most likely will spend my weekend layered and huddled in front of a space heater.

I’ve heard several people say, “God doesn’t give you anymore than you can handle,” but I’m not sure if that’s in the Bible, or just wishful thinking.

Copyright ©January 2025 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

 

 

End of Chapter

Sometimes we don’t like a good year to end, and other times we are more than happy to reach the end of a chapter of our lives and move on to the next one. Looking back on my life, I can think of a few years that were filled with sadness: 1990, 2005, 2012, and now 2024. I know there were others too, but I don’t want to fill the page up with numbers.

A new year isn’t just flipping a page on the calendar; it’s putting up a new calendar. You have a fresh start until you begin to fill the pages with appointments, reminders, and, hopefully, some fun events.

Of course, many people use electronic calendars. I use mine and sometimes it keeps me on schedule. Too often, I forget to put a reminder and, oops, I was supposed to be at an appointment—NOW!

At least if I write appointments in red on my wall calendar, I can easily see that I have something on that day. I make it a habit to look at the calendar when I come into the kitchen for my first cup of coffee.

Harold used make a decision or pronouncement and follow it with, “End of story.” 

Well, the end of a year, isn’t the end of the story, it’s the end of a chapter. The story goes on for as long as we live.

I have always been a reader and lately I’ve been reading thrillers. Often chapters are cliffhangers and instead of putting the book down, I want to read the next chapter to see how the main character is going to get out of a dire situation.

Part of my nighttime routine is to read until I’m so sleepy I can’t keep my eyes open. I’ve found that reading a good book is better than counting sheep any day.

When we put up the new calendar, we are ending a chapter, but not the story. Here’s to hoping that the next chapter will be filled with love, laughter, and new beginnings.

My wish is that you and I have a happy New Year and that 2025 is the best chapter yet.

 

Copyright © December 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Courage

My family gifted me the Willow Tree angel “Courage” at a time when I needed to be reminded just how much courage it takes to live one day at a time. My sisters and sister-in-law had just helped me plan Harold’s funeral, and we stopped at the flower shop so I could order a casket spray. That’s when my sister-in-law spotted “Courage.” How appropriate, how timely.

The past few months have been a blur of emotions as Harold and I navigated the hospital and nursing home cycle. I cheerleaded Harold through physical therapy with the hope that he would be able to return home. On good days, I would get my hopes up, and on bad days, I tried to muster the courage to stay positive.

“I’m never going to go home,” Harold would say. I argued with him because I wanted it so much. Life had been a struggle for us both for a long time, but we’d been able to get him up and out the door to dialysis.

“You only have to get strong enough to get out of bed and into your chair.” He wasn’t allowed to have his power wheelchair at the nursing home and he missed the independence.  

Harold had me on speed dial. He called me when he couldn’t find the button to call for help at the nursing home, or when he had trouble breathing, or if he was confused in the night with dreams interfering with reality. One night when I drove through a downpour in the middle of the night, he said, “I don’t want you to have any regrets. You did everything you could do for me.”

That’s easier said than done. It was easy to have regrets when the outcome wasn’t what I had hoped it would be.

We held hands and reminisced about the good times during the bad times. He worried about the dog and me. “I can take care of myself, and I’ll take care of Lucy,” I assured him. All I needed was the courage to face life without him.  

Despite my assurances, he worried. He told his cousin that I put on a brave front but when I was alone, I fell apart. How did he know that?

Harold never made a snap decision in his life, and his decision for comfort care came only after all the other plans failed. He kept asking me if I would be OK. I told him that he didn’t need to worry about me, just make the best decision for him.

After several days of indecision and after he had a long phone conversation with a doctor he trusted, he said, “Let’s do it.” My biggest regret is that at that moment, I didn’t ask everyone to leave so that we could have some time alone. I didn’t realize that once he was pain free, he would fall asleep until the next evening when he peacefully left this world.

I held his hand and stroked his face as he took his last breath. This time I was alone with him, and I spent the next twenty minutes playing “The Rose” on my phone and talking to him.

Everywhere I look, I see reminders of our life together. I’m not handling this as well as I should. There’s just no time limit or boundaries for grief. Being widowed once doesn’t make it any easier the second time.

Most people are lucky to find true and enduring love once, and I’ve found it twice. Their love has become a part of me, and as long as I live, they live in my heart, soul, and memories.

Copyright © December 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Windows

The thing I liked best about the house that Jim and I built was the windows. Looking out a window is a way to connect with the world outside while being all comfy inside.

I often sat in my living room and looked out the patio windows to the woods behind our house. I remember seeing birds and squirrels in the summer and on cold winter days.

From the kitchen, I could look across the yard and see the little house next door where my mother-in-law lived. Deer often came into the yard to browse for fruit on the ground.

Now, as I remember those days, I realize that I was blessed to have lived during that special time. Families didn’t just get together for holidays, weddings, and funerals. Life was filled with impromptu jam sessions or feasts, anytime, on any ordinary day.

A few days ago, I saw a photo of Uncle Johnny on Facebook. Immediately, I thought of the pitch games that we played at Virginia’s kitchen table. Uncle Johnny and I were partners trying to beat Jim and Aunt Nita. They were the wild and crazy bidders who would bid on each other’s hands.

Now that I think about it, I wonder whether they were not so much clairvoyant as they might have had a stealthy method of signaling each other. Either that, or playing cards was their superpower.

I lived alone in our house for fourteen years. During that time, I saw our yard go from being the gathering place for family to a quiet, lonely space. I would look at the empty patio and imagine the time when Jim, Billy, and his dad would play music there. Virginia would cook a big dinner and everyone would gather around in lawn chairs at the picnic table with plates of food. The coffee pot was on all the time.

I sit here today in the house that Harold built. We have huge windows in the kitchen on the west side, sunroom windows, a bay window, and windows in every room. I can see the sunrise in the office and watch glorious sunsets from the kitchen or sunroom windows.

Now, I’m looking out the office window to the first ground-covering snow of the year. I see our fence and an abandoned bird nest in the Japanese Maple tree. The snow continues to fall, but with some thawing, I hope I’m only housebound for one day.

The house is quiet except for the slight hum of the Synology and the blowing of the heat through the floor vents. I’ve never been one to turn on the TV or radio for background noise.

In the stillness, I struggle with thoughts of my changing world. I think of the song, “I Am Not Okay.” We all feel the weight of life’s burdens from time-to-time. Conversely, we all experience joy and times when all seems right with the world.

The main message from the song is not the part about not being okay, although that is what we latch onto in times of sorrow. The secret message is that even though “I’m not okay, everything is going to be all right.”

All we have to do is look through a window, feel the power of positivity, and muster the courage to trust in a Greater Power. Solace comes with the knowledge that everything will be all right someday.

 

Copyright © November 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Be Still My Mind

Some people have an ability to meditate and turn off their thoughts. My mind, on the other hand, just gets busier, the more I try to clear it.

I’ve always had an overactive mind and sometimes it is a challenge to figure out how to turn it off long enough to sleep. The more stressful my life is, the more active my brain.

Caregiving is a special kind of stress where worry is a thundercloud ready to send bolts of lightning crashing down into the caregiver’s soul. It’s hard not to lose the sense of self while focusing on another’s health needs. A mind numbing tiredness turns into exhaustion during the push to  be responsible for another human being.

I had this crazy idea that when I retired, my life would be calm and serene. With the stress of my job out of the picture, I looked forward to lounging around the house, going to the park to watch the squirrels, taking my dog for a long, leisurely walk, reading a book while sitting on the porch, and living the dream.

The thought that life would become a whirlwind of non-stop activity never crossed my mind until it dominated my mind. My mental to-do list always outdid the physical to-do list that I prepared to keep me on track.

The outside world has invaded my inside space. When I have a quiet moment drinking my first cup of coffee, the cell phone will ring, a text will ping, or an email demanding my attention shows up in the in box. The digital devices that are supposed to make life more efficient and easier can become the disruptive force that sends the day spinning out of control.

My phone is a conglomeration of appointments, reminders, and alarms. I have an uncanny ability to turn off an alarm and immediately become distracted with another thought clamoring for attention in my overactive mind. I’ve found this an excellent way to miss deadlines.

I’ve become a procrastinator extraordinaire. If something can be put off until tomorrow, I don’t have to do it today. Exhaustion sets in at unexpected times and a nap is required to reset my soul.   

The busy mind is especially troublesome when trying to go to sleep at bedtime. The only way to stop the “would have, should have” section of my mind is to mentally focus on one special thought. Reading helps me calm my mind because I focus on the book in front of me. I’ll read until I’m so sleepy that I can’t see the words and sometimes I can close my Kindle and immediately fall asleep.

During stressful times, setting the book aside sends my mind into overdrive. Sometimes I’ll try to remember the lyrics of a song, but lately, I found my best bet is to recite the Serenity Prayer until I go to sleep.

The prayer is magical, and exactly what my mind needs to put aside the worrisome thoughts that make sleep elusive: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

 I repeat the prayer until I fall asleep. The prayer is my way of saying, “Be still, my mind.”

Copyright © November 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Veterans Day, Some Gave All

 

Last night, my sleep was disturbed by voices. I was beginning to think that I had gone completely bonkers, but couldn’t understand what the voices were saying. At least I wasn’t obeying odd voices in my head.

The voices stopped and I heard the national anthem. The music of the Star Spangled Banner brought me out of my sleep. No, it wasn’t internal, so I got out of bed to investigate.

I checked the TV in the office, the TV in the living room, and the radio in the kitchen.  All were silent. I returned to the bedroom and noticed that the sound bar on the top of the TV was lit up. Yes, that was the origin of the music. I fumbled in the drawer for the remote and hit the power button. Then, it occurred to me—welcome to Veterans Day 2024.

Veterans Day was special for Jim and me. Our Colorado trips were in the summer, and for several years, we went to Branson during Veterans Week. Branson honors veterans and makes them feel welcome. Jim wore his “Vietnam Veteran and Proud of It” cap, his denim jacket, and 501 Levis.

Vietnam was an albatross hanging around his service-injured neck. As his short-term memory waned, Vietnam seemed more recent and his PTSD kicked in more often. As the disease progressed, Jim accepted that he could be proud of being a veteran. 

While in Branson, we liked to ride on the Branson Belle and go to the 76 Music Hall to see Tom Brumley, one of Jim’s favorites. At the Music Hall, we registered Jim and collected his Veterans Week nametag. Jim’s badge would be pinned, taped, or whatever it took to make it last until the next year. I removed last year’s battered nametag and replaced it with the new one. We browsed the veteran’s paraphernalia and purchased a new “Army” pin so Jim could add it to the collection on his denim jacket.

Our last morning in Branson in 1999, we boarded the Branson Belle. During intermission, Jim and I climbed the stairs and walked out onto the deck to enjoy the mild November day. We stood at the railing and the movement of the riverboat whipped a fish scented breeze into our faces.

Jim’s Levi jacket was buttoned to the top button and had so many pins on it that he looked like a street vendor advertising his wares. His nametag proclaimed who he was, and in essence, pronounced him a survivor of the Vietnam War. His cap shaded his face, the dark sunglasses and cane, gave a false impression that he was blind. Regardless of his eccentric garb, Jim was a handsome guy with blond hair, broad shoulders, and a cleft chin.

Branson shows often include several patriotic songs at any time of the year, but especially during Veterans Week. At every show, veterans were asked to stand and be recognized.

The song that always broke my heart was, “Some Gave All.” The phrase “All gave some and some gave all,” the “all” usually refers to those who lost their lives, but when I looked at Jim, I thought that he gave “all.”

Vietnam forever changed Jim. I believe between the physical injury to his neck, PTSD, and Agent Orange, contributed to his depression and ultimately his dementia. Of course, the VA never agreed with that assessment. We couldn’t even prove PTSD to their satisfaction even though they provided psychiatric care at one time.

Jim was a Vietnam veteran, and I’m proud of him for serving his country, but I wish that his country had served him in his time of need. With my work insurance, Jim stopped going to the VA because he said he got a “hell of a lot more respect” from civilian doctors.

I believe the VA is better now than it was then, and they are more supportive of veterans. I have family that use the VA by choice and receive excellent care. If nothing else, we can be proud that finally veterans of all conflicts, popular or unpopular, have the respect they deserve.

My day started with the “Star Spangled Banner” and my heart goes to a moment in 2001 when Jim was in the nursing home, silent, and mostly immersed into an inner place that was hard to reach.

A flag made with cutouts of children’s hands had been hanging on the wall since a few weeks after the September 11 tragedy. One evening,  I noticed Jim had stopped in front of the flag and tipped his cap. I thought maybe he was adjusting it, but a few days later, he stopped in front of the flag and saluted it.

Veterans are soldiers for life. 

 

Copyright © November 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Fright Night—What Spooks Us?

The ghosts and goblins of All Hallows’ Eve are lurking in the dark ready to jump out from behind that old dead tree to send shivers of fright down our spines. Since we associate Halloween with scary beings that go bump in the night, it is a good time to talk about what frightens us.

The scene is set for me to talk about the things that scare us. As I sit in my office working on this article, the wind howls around the corner of the house and branches scrape against the window. In fact, the unusual sounds are downright creepy.

Although some of the surveys show slightly different results, I’m going to hone in on ten common fears.

Things that go BOOM in the night.  A lot of folks are scared of storms. Thunder and lightning can shake up the best of us. Throw in a tornado warning complete with a heart-stopping siren, and you can create panic. I used to be terrified of storms, but somewhere along the line, I just learned to respect them and find a safe spot if possible.

Dark and Stormy Nights. No wonder the cliché for the beginning of a story is “It was a dark and stormy night.” Two fears rolled into one. The dark is the most common fear of children. I think that’s because when its dark, you can’t see the monsters in the closet. And you can’t go trick or treating until after dark…

Creepy Crawlers. Let’s face it. Spiders are mean little critters that can give you the kiss of death before you can say “Granddaddy Longlegs.” They all scare me…black widows, tarantulas, or brown recluse…and the only good spider is one that I see first because it will become a ghost spider.

Slithering Sneaky Snakes.  I never saw a snake that I liked. A few weeks ago, I was at a wedding rehearsal dinner where Sedalia’s own “Snake Lady” dressed up as a witch and brought one of her pet snakes in a caldron. Fortunately, I was sitting at the back of the room. Needless to say, I wasn’t one of the people who let the snake slither around my arms.

Crash and burn.  If you are afraid of flying, you have lots of company. As many as twenty-five million people are nervous flyers. I don’t think they are so much afraid of flying as they are of crashing.

Hitchcock’s Vertigo. I have a love/hate relationship with heights. I love looking at scenery far below, but I can freak out if I get too close to a canyon. The spinning sensation makes me feel that I’m just going to topple over the edge, plunging to my death far below.

Hell Hounds. I’ve never really been scared of dogs in general, but I’ve had a couple of close encounters. One time I was handing out some literature door-to-door for a local organization. At one house, I knocked, but no one was home. As I started back to the car, a German shepherd wedged himself between me and the car. I talked really nice to the dog as I slowly backed around him, never turning my back. “Nice doggy. Aren’t you a pretty boy? Are you having a good day, little doggie?”

Coffin Claustrophobia. Nobody likes to feel like they are in a tight spot where the air is hard to breathe. I’ve known fearless men who would climb a high wire or chase storms, but put them on an elevator and their knees begin to knock.

Evil Drilling Dentist. Some people treat the dentist like he’s Dr. Frankenstein and they expect him to drill right through a tooth and into their brain while laughing manically.

Mice and Rats. Yep. Rats are pretty scary if they wind up in bed with you. That happened to me while staying at a very nice resort in Mexico. It was not one of my more restful nights, for sure. But still, better a rat touching my hair than a ghost.

I don’t know why, but ghosts didn’t make the list. I’ve had a few experiences in my life that could be classified as supernatural. I’ll save those stories for another time. In the meantime, I’ll wish you a spooky, spine-chilling Halloween.

Copyright © October 2024 by L.S. Fisher originally published October 2014

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Some Assembly Required

We recently bought a handicap step stool with a grab bar from Amazon. The item listed “some assembly required.” I would consider that a warning label, but my husband saw it only as an inconvenience.

The day the package arrived, he wanted to put the pieces together. Being a typical man, he threw the instructions aside and began assembling the step stool. After working on it for a while, we hit a snag when we couldn’t, metaphorically speaking, get the square peg through the round hole.

A few days later, we looked at it again. I started trying to decipher the instructions, and realized that the part that was assembled was put together wrong. We took all the pieces apart and methodically followed the step-by-step instructions and successfully assembled the step stool.

“You know what this reminded me of?” I asked Harold.

“When you and Jim put the tent together?” he asked.

“Exactly!” I must have relayed that story during a similar situation.

 

“Colorado” excerpt from Indelible, unfinished memoir:

 

In retrospect, I could measure the progression of Jim’s dementia by our annual trips to Colorado. In 1995, putting up the tent was a fiasco.

“This is the way it goes together,” Jim said picking up a pole from the pile of different length rods. We tried slipping the rods into the canvas only to find our final creation was not a tent.

“Okay, now are you ready for me to dig out the instructions?” I asked with as much patience as I could muster.

“I guess so,” he said grudgingly. Between the two of us, we managed to slide out the rods.

Even with directions, it was hard to figure out what went where.

“That’s not right,” Jim insisted.

“Humor me.” I huffed and puffed in the thin mountain air as I struggled with the poles.

After a lot of stress, strain, and cuss words, our home away from home looked like a tent.

 “Let’s get the equipment out of the van,” I said.

Finally, camp was set up to our liking, and we relaxed in our lawn chairs. Jim had always been the official camp cook, and I really didn’t know how the stove worked. I watched him and offered assistance when he couldn’t quite get things right. That year, I helped with meal preparation.  Overall, the problems weren’t too bad and it didn’t discourage us.

The next year, we used the tent for the last time. We had so much trouble setting up the tent that I thought we weren’t going to get it done at all. Cooking on the camp stove was too much of a challenge for Jim, so we stocked up on picnic supplies or ate in Estes Park.

As hard as “some assembly required” is, when we follow instructions, we can save ourselves unnecessary stress. Life with a loved one who has dementia does not have step-by-step instructions. We cope by learning all we can about Alzheimer’s, but at times, we have to rely on our seat-of-the-pants skills.

In the real world, each person with dementia is a unique person and may not have the same characteristics as the textbook example. In addition, each care partner has a different level of skill, patience, and perseverance.

Building our caregiver skills can feel as if we are reading instructions in a foreign language. Sometimes we need to pause, take another look, and start all over. Each day is a new day, and a caregiver can build on personal experiences and proven best practices.

My goal was never to be the best caregiver in the world; it was to be the best caregiver I could be. Sometimes, I was discouraged. Sometimes, I was disappointed in myself. But most of all, when Jim was fed, clean, and comfortable, I was satisfied that I had done my best.

 

Copyright © October 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Turn, Turn, Turn

 

On a Walmart run in late summer, I was almost overwhelmed by the sight of Halloween decorations, costumes, and shelves upon shelves of candy. Then, on my way to the pharmacy, I spied Christmas Decorations. According to Ecclesiastes, “To every thing there is a season…” To be blunt, summer is not the season for Christmas.

So the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” swirled through my thoughts. Pete Seeger composed the song in 1959 almost verbatim from the wisdom found in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. Seeger said these were the most important words he had ever latched on to, and that the melody leaps the barriers of language, politics, and religion.

We all know religions that seem to place high importance on a particular part of the Bible, and that section serves as the centerpiece of their beliefs. Thanks to the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” people worldwide heard about the verses that describe the ebb and flow of life. Although the terms seem contradictory, often life itself is paradoxical.

Each year we have four seasons, and sometimes those seasons are applied to life: Spring is thought of as the beginning of life. Summer represents our youth. Autumn can be compared to adulthood beginning with brilliant colors and fading away in time. Winter, well, we all know winter is the last season. But true to the circle of life, winter is followed by the new birth of Springtime.

Whether we learned of the many seasons of life from the Bible or the song, apparently, life is full of contradictions and yet there is a purpose for everything under heaven.

The bookends of life are birth and death. Between birth and death, everything changes or turns. To nourish our bodies we plant food and harvest it. At one time, the only way to put meat on the table was to kill, but animals used for food needed to be healthy.

Physically and mentally, we may have to tear down that which is no longer useful and build a better version. Emotionally, we know that life is filled with laughter and tears. Sometimes we mourn our losses and other times we dance for joy.

Life is a cycle of gathering earthly treasures, but knowing that we can lose them in a heartbeat. We all know that a time will come when we seriously have to know what to keep and what we need to throw away.

 In relationships, we learn when to embrace and when to keep our distance. We learn the fine art of knowing when to speak and when to keep silent. Love and hate are closer emotions than most of us would ever want to admit. Some relationships need to be mended, while others cannot be salvaged and are torn asunder.

Our lives involve many struggles as we deal with our personal health problems or those affecting  people we love, or both. As we age, we may need a caregiver or may be a caregiver. Another paradox is that being a caregiver can be detrimental to our health, or it may be our incentive to keep moving even when we don’t feel like it.

No matter how bad the situation, we can look around and find someone who is worse off than we are. We see devastation from natural disasters where shell-shocked people will feel fortunate to be alive.

War wreaks havoc on innocent and guilty alike, yet the Bible says that there is a time for war. There is also a time for peace. I agree with the line Pete Seeger added, “I swear it’s not too late.”

 Copyright © September 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ #Walk2EndAlz

Tend to Your Own Heart

I was reading an article about resolving conflict and among all the scenarios and advice, the words that slipped off the page and into my brain were “tend to your own heart.” The words kept bouncing around like a mantra until I decided to explore the words mentally.

We are faced daily with contentious opinions on every subject imaginable. Of course, this close to an election, it is easy to find an argument without even looking. The entire political climate is volatile with strong words erupting from all directions.

 Insults and shouting is not going to change anyone’s mind whose opinion is set in stone. Apparently, reality is based on personal opinion and cherry-picked facts or pseudo facts. Two sides to every story has turned into an octagon with two being opposing opinions and the other six being conspiracy theories.

The only way to inner peace is to tend to your own heart. When you know your opinions rest easy in your soul, you are on the right track.

During many times and situations throughout life, it is important to tend to your own heart. A caregiver must tend to his or her own heart on a daily basis. If you immerse your entire being into tending to the wants and needs of another, you risk not only losing your own health, but also your sense of self.

A conscientious caregiver wants to be the best care partner possible, but to take care of another, you must also take care of yourself. No one can be on duty twenty-four hours a day and stay healthy. A must for a caregiver is respite—a time for relaxation and relief from the overwhelming responsibility of becoming a lifeline for another human.

 Another time to tend to your own heart is when you have lost a loved one. During a recent conversation with my son, we agreed that my sister-in-law, his aunt, died from a broken heart. When the love of her life passed away, she lost the will to live.

Within the past week, I personally know two people who lost their beloved spouses. I really believe that both of them will tend to their own hearts and embrace a changed world. It isn’t necessary to stop loving someone you lost, but important to keep on loving your family and friends who are still living. Grief doesn’t go away, but it becomes manageable when you focus on the future while cherishing your memories.

The happiest people are the ones who have confidence they can deal with any situation life throws at them. A positive attitude allows you to move forward no matter what adversity you face in life. Tending to your own heart will make you a stronger, happier person.

Copyright © September 2024 by L.S. Fisher

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