tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3612626958862521832024-03-17T21:52:05.824-07:00Early Onset Alzheimer's - Encourage, Inspire, and InformBy L. S. Fisher,
Subject: Early onset dementia before age 65.
Live life to the fullest and find humor in everyday life.L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.comBlogger736125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-59390257225530599312024-03-17T21:01:00.000-07:002024-03-17T21:13:02.355-07:00Irish for the Day<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5cbD6exkk8Trv2lFef1wo6M26HiB0RJN32ST68GlcyDrJkQgh-OMPVLeJR8p6Huv4YwicAhNgpsbN35wPSuuo1aQ3_-pJiihuA6F5F7YtDtif1j9K_zWXQpcfLSCkqssNH89O5UQRwODDNjw0FhnzjN-cDQt2OxRrtFsSOoktmUHWRu_1xeEAGiybEI/s2272/DSCF0512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="2272" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5cbD6exkk8Trv2lFef1wo6M26HiB0RJN32ST68GlcyDrJkQgh-OMPVLeJR8p6Huv4YwicAhNgpsbN35wPSuuo1aQ3_-pJiihuA6F5F7YtDtif1j9K_zWXQpcfLSCkqssNH89O5UQRwODDNjw0FhnzjN-cDQt2OxRrtFsSOoktmUHWRu_1xeEAGiybEI/s320/DSCF0512.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>As I drove to the post office Saturday morning, I
noticed a lot of commotion around Ohio Street. It took a minute for my mind to
click in and realized the St. Patrick’s Day Parade was about to begin. My
biggest concern was whether I could get out of town without backtracking.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I didn’t stay for the parade because I had a busy
day ahead of me. As I drove out of town, I ruminated about St. Patrick’s Days
of the past.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">At one time, our Alzheimer’s Walk Committee participated in the St. Patrick's Day parade. One year, we were brave enough to sign up for the bed races. We didn't have to build a bed since another group had loaned
us their bed from the previous year. We put the smallest kid in our group in
the driver’s seat and our fastest people to push. As our group huffed and
puffed their way down Ohio Street, Ginger lost her shoe. The good news
was that we won Second Place…the bad news was only two beds were in the
competition that year. </p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">During the parade, the announcers promoted our
dance and auction coming up in the evening. As soon as the parade finished, we
rushed to set up the silent auction and arrange the items chosen for the live
auction. Our celebrity auctioneer, country music singer Leroy Van Dyke, always
drew a crowd. Leroy jokingly said that it was amazing how much work a person
could do when they volunteered.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: left;">In keeping with the holiday theme, gooseberry pie
was always a premium auction item. Ted Distler, the Jefferson City Alzheimer’s
Walk chair, and I, the Sedalia Walk chair, were always the final two bidders
for the p<span style="text-align: justify;">ie. Once our friendly competition ended with a successful bid, the
winner sliced the pie and shared with the other.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish. Now the
big event of the day and evening is the Pub Crawl. Yes, Irish and drinking do
tend to go together. My favorite alcoholic beverage is Irish coffee.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">My thoughts turned to the tour of Ireland that my
sister and I took in 2005. Going to Ireland had always been on my bucket list,
and I was not disappointed! I loved the old castles, the Irish people, and the
green, green grass. Throughout our travels in the Emerald Isle, I had many
moments of déjà vu. The landscape, castle ruins, Cliffs of Moher, and ancient
cemeteries with their scenic arches tugged at my heartstrings. I
kissed the blarney stone, as if I needed a better gift of gab than I already
have.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Our tour guide regaled us with stories about
leprechauns and how these magical, wee creatures hold the key to the “luck of
the Irish.” Leprechauns are tricksters, and the reason we wear green is to keep
them from pinching us. Personally, I’ve only been pinched by people, with nary
a leprechaun to be seen.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Yes, everyone wants to be Irish for a day—St.
Patrick’s Day. I would rather be magically transported to Ireland for a
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">As this St. Patrick’s Day comes to a close, I hope
you’ve had a day filled with luck as abundant as the shamrocks in Ireland.
Until next year, “May the road rise to meet you and the wind be always at your
back.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">Copyright © March 2024 by L.S.
Fisher</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-40778269644085437592024-03-15T19:00:00.000-07:002024-03-17T21:51:33.415-07:00Turn a Deaf Ear<p> </p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6y05qjZsz1I4W0TFX8gc8fTpSwhM7I_-4T7XXsQwFPub70EFp1OcckteVFRkYLu1HmJguiH4-4MBfm4zMjYkEg9oepE3te4l4bScWom-0R582lKJPcKqa0w4h_xDfv9lXwJ8a9W5e8M7u8ZZibnpL2_QPx0aEFr7JaDQOod1m4GihDikMewCoHp4djI/s1512/Linda%20and%20Jim%201999%20Maine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="1145" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6y05qjZsz1I4W0TFX8gc8fTpSwhM7I_-4T7XXsQwFPub70EFp1OcckteVFRkYLu1HmJguiH4-4MBfm4zMjYkEg9oepE3te4l4bScWom-0R582lKJPcKqa0w4h_xDfv9lXwJ8a9W5e8M7u8ZZibnpL2_QPx0aEFr7JaDQOod1m4GihDikMewCoHp4djI/s320/Linda%20and%20Jim%201999%20Maine.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Several years ago, I went to see my family
physician for an earache. He told me I had an ear infection and sent some
medicated drops home with me. The throbbing in my ear stopped when blood
trickled down my neck. I called the doctor and told him about the new
development. He assured me that I wasn’t going to bleed to death from my ear.
(Guess he never saw the same westerns I had!) My eardrum had ruptured, and he
said it would most likely heal on its own.</div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Once the incessant buzzing stopped, I figured I
was good to go. I never noticed a problem until I took a hearing test as part
of a workplace health fair. “You have a slight loss of hearing in your right
ear,” the technician told me. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Eventually, I noticed that if someone spoke
softly in my right ear it was the “wah wah wah” sound much like Charlie Brown’s
teacher. It finally occurred to me that I was unintentionally turning a deaf
ear.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
annoying to have hearing loss in one ear, but it does make me stop to consider
that at times turning a deaf ear is advantageous. “Turning a deaf ear” is an
idiom for ignoring what another person says. When I was a caregiver for Jim, I
learned to turn a deaf ear at times. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Turn a
Deaf Ear to Negativity:</b> A caregiver has enough challenges without outsiders
heaping negativity on them. Negative people sap precious energy that you will
need to make all the decisions necessary to provide the daily care your loved
one needs. There’s no better way to ruin a day than to listen to someone who
finds fault with how you are handling the difficult choices you need to make. </p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Turn a Deaf Ear to
Criticism:</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a lot of truth to the old saying that
everyone is a critic. I’ve known a few people in my life that think criticizing
others makes them look better. When a caregiver is doing her best, no one else
has the right to criticize. If the job of caregiving is overwhelming and the
best solution is to seek professional care, it becomes a family matter. When I
made that difficult long-term care decision for Jim, I only cared what my kids
and his mom had to say. Once we were in agreement, I turned a deaf ear to
everyone else.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Turn a Deaf Ear to Self
Doubt:</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> As a
caregiver, you need to learn to ignore that nagging voice in your head that
constantly runs through the “should have—could haves.” Once you’ve made a
caregiving decision, you need to stop doubting yourself. Self doubt is fraught
with negative emotions: anxiety, indecision, depression, and guilt. I’ve known
caregivers that had to seek psychological and pharmaceutical help. There’s no
shame in taking care of your healthcare needs with professional guidance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Turn a Deaf Ear to Gossip:</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> When you are doing what is
best for you and your loved one, don’t give credence to the opinion of someone
who has not walked in your shoes. Here’s a helpful hint—no one has ever walked
in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> shoes but you!</span> </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;">The good thing about turning a deaf ear is that
you don’t actually have to be deaf in one ear. All it takes is a positive
mindset to turn a deaf ear when necessary, but listen with both ears to trusted
advice on best practices for caring for your loved one with dementia.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify;">When you type alz.org into your browser, you will
find answers to almost all the questions that you have about the disease,
caregiving, or how to get involved in the fight to end Alzheimer’s. The 24/7
Helpline 800-272-3900 is prominently displayed at the top of the home screen.</p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;">When Jim was first diagnosed, I knew nothing about
Alzheimer’s or dementia. Throughout my caregiving journey, I trusted the
Alzheimer’s Association to steer me in the right direction, and they did. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="text-indent: 0in;">Copyright © March 2024 by
L.S. Fisher</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 0in;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-51175989530960096452024-02-29T17:57:00.000-08:002024-02-29T17:57:05.237-08:00This Old Car<p> </p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RQsw1L1xs8VyBXV1baeEJ2QCdsxCLP9WPaZ65Bn7T6BV85SXSj9Zz73zwKJGEpAy_0bIr8iKcI1LZDmw1oQ2LJRbSkGYDA-4-OeLeYv-2-ADjchflhru3hpOfqUhcZ15CP0irvMmPY3sGXkyVOg9NTtdZmAyVFAAnrIZU0_AqGQKQELH_PZCQ4Q1ib0/s2100/front%20view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1081" data-original-width="2100" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RQsw1L1xs8VyBXV1baeEJ2QCdsxCLP9WPaZ65Bn7T6BV85SXSj9Zz73zwKJGEpAy_0bIr8iKcI1LZDmw1oQ2LJRbSkGYDA-4-OeLeYv-2-ADjchflhru3hpOfqUhcZ15CP0irvMmPY3sGXkyVOg9NTtdZmAyVFAAnrIZU0_AqGQKQELH_PZCQ4Q1ib0/s320/front%20view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was a kid, we lived in the Ozarks and the
only music we ever heard on the radio was country music. I remember a song
called “This Old House.” After I’d heard the song several times, I realized
that the song wasn’t about a house at all, but about a human body.</div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Back in the day, you just figured things out on
your own, but now we have the internet, and I was curious about the song. I
found a treasure! Stuart Hamblen, the man who wrote the song told the story of
finding a dilapidated log house while he was on a hunting trip in the Sierra
Mountain range. The old house was falling down and when a dog came out of the
house, Stuart went inside and found a man who had passed away. He wrote the
song while outside the house, and many people thought the song was only about
the old house, but Stuart says the song is about two houses. “…the other house,
the mortal house that the maker of man has loaned to the man for such a short,
short time.”**</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Why did such a thought cross my mind? I was
thinking about my old car, a 2010 Chevy Malibu. I bought the car new as my
“retirement” car, and I’m still driving it 110,000 miles later. After all the
nasty weather a few weeks ago, and after a drive down a country road, my car
looked pathetic. It was making a loud noise, which I hoped was from the tires.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">This car and I have traveled a lot of miles and
been through a lot in the past thirteen years. I couldn’t help but compare
myself to the car, which is definitely an upgrade from “This Old House.” We’ve
both suffered some bumps and dings over the years. Fortunately, neither one of
us have had any accidents. We have to recharge our batteries and change the oil
regularly. We’ve had a few flat tires, and scraped up our fancy wheels. We are
both a little worse for the wear, but I think we’re in pretty good shape for
the shape we’re in.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Still, in my mind, I was a little worried about
the noise…and I went online car shopping. I couldn’t find anything that really
caught my eye. The prices on new vehicles are shocking, so I thought it might
be much more feasible to give my car some TLC. My Malibu has been a dependable
low-maintenance car and I couldn’t see taking a chance on finding another great
vehicle. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">During one of the recent warm days, I took my
car through the carwash and saw the beauty of the red jewel color sparkle. It
reminded me of the time I’d just washed my car and went to the Post Office. As
I pulled in, this old gentleman told me, “That is the most beautiful car I’ve
ever seen.” Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I like the looks of the
car too.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I made an appointment to have an oil change and
have the sound investigated. Yes, it was the tires. With an oil change and new front
tires, we’re back in business.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">If there’s a point to this story, it would be
that for a car (or a body) to last, we need checkups and regular maintenance.
Sometimes the noise (or pain) isn’t anything to worry about, but better safe
than sorry. Here’s to hoping that my car’s engine (and my brain) keeps on
clicking on all cylinders for many years to come.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-size: 9pt; text-indent: 0in;">**Find “This ‘Ole House – Story Behind the Song Told by
Stuart Hamblen” at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNzcGxl5nk8</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Copyright © Feb 2024 by L.S. Fisher</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 0in;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-18748598829785076622024-02-29T15:07:00.000-08:002024-02-29T15:27:16.567-08:00Healthy Habits are Good for your Brain<p> <br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8S0hd3Cd8TodIAlYDVa6C2ljGLa0ZpPhj5DMn1E4kVAzLuW8XVbkDRj36Mg7aluYpS3tgrkFWaQv23L9XKzDyM2iggwiE1Nn1lWlMF9RNv5P4imseoBs6iYZO5GsQi6CaKwRW8WS7VvSvPJdNOJ4819tl2MAbBSFlCj24SaZxT2q9OiS8GADhwmw7Zo/s1500/Linda%20uke%20Primrose%20cropped.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="1500" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8S0hd3Cd8TodIAlYDVa6C2ljGLa0ZpPhj5DMn1E4kVAzLuW8XVbkDRj36Mg7aluYpS3tgrkFWaQv23L9XKzDyM2iggwiE1Nn1lWlMF9RNv5P4imseoBs6iYZO5GsQi6CaKwRW8WS7VvSvPJdNOJ4819tl2MAbBSFlCj24SaZxT2q9OiS8GADhwmw7Zo/w320-h292/Linda%20uke%20Primrose%20cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">During the past twenty years, I’ve followed
Alzheimer’s research, and have had a front seat to many disappointments.
Currently, I’m pleased that significant progress has been made and promising
new treatments can slow the progression of Alzheimer’s disease.</div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Many years ago when I served on the Alzheimer’s
Chapter Board of Directors, I learned that a healthy lifestyle was the
most effective way to delay the onset of age-related dementia.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Most of
us blissfully move through life with confidence that our brains are clicking
along like a well-oiled machine. Sure, we may not be able to multi-task as well
as we could in our younger years. We also learn that stress can cause us to fumble
around, make miscues, and have occasional mental glitches. Although these
age-related changes can be concerning, as long as they don’t interfere with our
daily life, we haven’t developed dementia.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Lifestyle changes are good for our bodies, our
hearts, and our brains. The possibilities are endless, but I’ve listed seven
changes that are within reach for most people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">1. <b>Enough Sleep: </b>I might as well start
with the one that is my biggest challenge. I’ve become a night owl, but wake up
around five or five-thirty in the morning. If I go to bed early, I toss and
turn and stay awake later than if I just go to bed around midnight as usual.
When I go to bed late, I can read for ten minutes and go to sleep. A short nap
during the day helps me feel rested.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">2.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Healthy eating habits: </b>We all have our
downfalls when it comes to eating. I’ve found through the years, that I can add
fruit and vegetables to my diet on a regular basis and maintain a healthy
weight. I’ve found that crash diets, are more like crash and burn diets. Yo-yo
dieting is harder on your health than carrying a few extra pounds. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">3.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Social Interaction: </b>I think we all
learned the lesson of the importance of social interaction during the pandemic
lockdowns. We realized we needed to spend time with friends and family, and
some of us need to feel that we are helping make the world better in our own
small way. Volunteer work increases social interaction, provides learning
opportunities, and helps us feel useful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">4.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Stress Management: </b>Most of us find a
way to manage stress. Physical activity is often a good stress reliever. Hobbies
are a great way to relax. Reading a good book can make your troubles seem small
in comparison to the protagonist! My favorite stress reliever is playing my
ukulele and singing. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">5.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Stay Active: </b>Physical activity improves
memory and brain health while it strengthens bones and muscles. With a stronger
body, you increase your capabilities of being able to perform daily activities.
Other benefits of staying active include reducing anxiety and depression while
improving your quality of sleep. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">6. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The
New Math: </b>Alzheimer’s is the most common type of dementia and vascular
dementia is the second most common type. Health conditions that contribute to
vascular dementia are atherosclerosis (a buildup of plaque inside arteries),
heart disease, and stroke. Along with a healthy diet, exercise, not smoking,
and limiting alcohol, you need to watch your “numbers.” If lifestyle changes
alone cannot improve your numbers, you may need to take medication to treat
high blood pressure, lower cholesterol, or prevent blood clots. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">7. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Stimulate
Your Brain: </b>The phrase, “use it or lose it” comes to mind. I recently read
an article that said lifelong learning is one of the secrets to a healthy
lifestyle. Learning stimulates cognitive ability. Other ways to stimulate your
brain are reading, working daily puzzles or crosswords, playing games that
stretch your mind, or taking up a new hobby.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">As we grow older, we have more health
challenges. I like to think that no matter what ailments I have, I am luckier
than many others I know.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Age is the number one risk factor for dementia.
I have seven decades of information and trivia stored in my brain, and
retrieving a pertinent piece of information might take a bit longer than it did
when I was younger. Sure, I’ve slowed down, but I’m still moving forward.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Of all the healthy habits we can implement to
improve our health, it is important to have a positive outlook on life. I like
to focus on the activities I <i>can</i> do instead of the ones that I <i>can’t.</i> Although
I’m older today than I was yesterday, I’m younger than I will be tomorrow. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright
© Feb 2024 by L.S. Fisher<br /><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-11498038037460935982024-02-17T14:45:00.000-08:002024-02-17T14:45:14.963-08:00Getting Affairs in Order<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTp_xwU4w0hvgNaSNfD6CFX7nKyk4WUBQgHrinecqohT1kWbTrY73U9Wfmel6cKTL99YwarT-xCk1VRn4iOl4l0IKkBUkDeL7V9fspRP4dmafF0qEDsUT8GNECoDAS21-bZxxFacHzRN4FebQ5XoJ66HCG19unyxWZ-1i9KNPcZO_p2jUZFtao8og4HTo/s1500/20240217_114331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1500" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTp_xwU4w0hvgNaSNfD6CFX7nKyk4WUBQgHrinecqohT1kWbTrY73U9Wfmel6cKTL99YwarT-xCk1VRn4iOl4l0IKkBUkDeL7V9fspRP4dmafF0qEDsUT8GNECoDAS21-bZxxFacHzRN4FebQ5XoJ66HCG19unyxWZ-1i9KNPcZO_p2jUZFtao8og4HTo/s320/20240217_114331.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At forty-nine,
Jim exhibited troubling symptoms, but the first MRI came back “normal.” About a
year later, we visited a neurologist who ran a SPECT (single-photon emission
computed tomography) scan. The SPECT scan was abnormal and the doctor believed
damage could have been from a stroke.</div><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I wrote about trying
to find a definitive diagnosis in Indelible,
an unpublished memoir:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"> <i>Jim began to have difficulty writing. He would
write letters but they wouldn’t make words. Most of the time, the combination
was close enough that I knew what he meant.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>I wanted him to feel useful and to “exercise
his brain.” One morning, I was washing the breakfast dishes, and Jim was
sitting at the table. “Honey, would you make a grocery list for me?” I nodded
toward the pad and pen I’d placed on the table. “We need paper towels,” I said.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>He picked up the pen and wrote on the notepad.
“We need milk,” I said. </i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Jim set the pen down. “I don’t want to.” He
walked out of the room, and I sat down to finish the list. On the paper, he had
printed, “taper powels.” </i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Later he picked up the list and studied it
carefully. “I wonder why I spelled ‘paper towels’ that way,” he said.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Little things began to add up. When we played
cards, his mom had to help him pick out the suit. Sometimes he didn’t know
which cards were hearts, diamonds, spades, or clubs.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Jim couldn’t dial a telephone number. He
couldn’t count his money and had trouble using the ATM. He stopped pumping gas
because the pumps had too many options that had to be selected. He couldn’t
change the tire on my car, although at one time he could change a tire faster
than anyone else I knew. </i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Jim did most things slowly and sometimes forgot
a step or did something that didn’t make sense. When he intended to make a
glass of instant tea, sometimes he would put in sugar and water, but forget the
tea. When he fixed a bowl of cereal, he would put milk and sweetener in the
bowl but forget the cereal.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Ryan’s was one of Jim’s favorite places to eat.
As soon as I paid, Jim would go to the buffet and pick up a serving spoon. He would
look around because he knew something was missing.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>“Here’s a plate,” I said.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Jim took the plate and scooped up a spoonful of
gravy. He backtracked and put mashed potatoes on top. Next, he placed spaghetti
sauce on his plate and topped it with a generous helping of spaghetti. He set
his plate on a nearby table and wandered back to the buffet line.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>Jim was eyeing the soup. “If you’ll bring me a
bowl, I’ll get you some soup,” I said. He brought me a plate and I swapped it
for a bowl. We found a table and sat down to eat. </i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>“What day is it?” he asked. He had already
asked that question four or five times already.
</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i> “What
time is it?” I asked him since he had a watch and I wasn’t wearing mine. He opened
his pocket watch and studied the dial. He closed it. “Well?” I asked.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;"><i>“I have no idea,” he replied.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i>With the possibility of stroke damage, we set
up an appointment with a cardiologist who sent us back to the neurologist for a
second MRI. As we waited for the doctor to tell us the test results, we sat in
side-by-side chairs in an examining room. We were both scared. I knew I looked
as worried, or more so, than Jim did.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>The neurologist breezed into the room. “Now, we
know why you are having trouble with thinking. Your MRI shows brain atrophy.”</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>The tears began to flow. “Why so sad?” he
asked. “Other people have similar problems and go on with their lives.”</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>He talked with us for a while explaining the
changes in Jim’s brain. “Do you have your legal affairs in order?” he asked.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>“No,” I admitted, thinking that question had an
ominous sound to it.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>He looked at Jim and said, “Jim, if you are not
able to make your own decisions, who do you want making them for you—your wife,
or some stranger?”</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><i>“Her,” Jim said pointing at me.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p>We made an
appointment with an attorney and he stepped us through our wills, advance
directives, health and financial power of attorney documents. Before long, we
had our affairs in order. I had no idea how important it was to have those documents
until Jim could no longer sign his name or make financial decisions.</p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Now, all these
years later, I’m getting my affairs in order—again. I’ve been meaning to update
my documents for several years, but it was easier to put it off than it was to
make the appointment and the effort. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">What I really should
do is pare down my inventory. I need to get more than affairs in order—I need
to get closets, cabinets, dresser drawers, and a basement in order.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">The ultimate goal
is to get my life in order. I want to let go of the time wasters that no longer
enrich my life, and to make time for the activities that make life more
enjoyable. I want to spend more time with people I love. I want to wake up
excited for the day ahead.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Jim used to say
that he needed something to look forward to—and for him that was usually a trip
to Branson or across country. He was right about that. If you lose focus on the
joy of living, life loses its joy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;">Getting affairs
in order is a reminder that life on this earth doesn’t go on forever. It means
getting in touch with your mortality and planning your exit strategy. </p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Copyright © Feb 2024 by L.S. Fisher</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">#ENDALZ</span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-67763903146064326302024-01-31T19:00:00.000-08:002024-01-31T19:00:21.203-08:00Transparency<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLMdU2sQ_m72GQ9oEqW9HSUT222UDOXlMVaiMIEzjg4MbVVzVWjDiG_olrVelvEIBE9882Rjt6kcCVw7aR-m3-BStYKzDNMCJ1F5hWjZ2imZIthkhw1BbTr1FSZ3rtXvUdgf6RgQCO0Xn2GQLgKc9SdL3nOaESHkTfAKRrHzJkx70tZjprJWbGMduQ9E/s1500/cup%20on%20napkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLMdU2sQ_m72GQ9oEqW9HSUT222UDOXlMVaiMIEzjg4MbVVzVWjDiG_olrVelvEIBE9882Rjt6kcCVw7aR-m3-BStYKzDNMCJ1F5hWjZ2imZIthkhw1BbTr1FSZ3rtXvUdgf6RgQCO0Xn2GQLgKc9SdL3nOaESHkTfAKRrHzJkx70tZjprJWbGMduQ9E/s320/cup%20on%20napkin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify;">Before the holidays, I bought myself a Christmas
present. I happen to like Bailey’s in my coffee, and I found the perfect gift
set. One gift set combined a bottle of Bailey’s with a clear coffee cup.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">The clear coffee cup reminded me of a business
trip Jim and I took to San Antonio, Texas. We stayed at a swanky hotel that
served their delicious coffee in clear cups. Jim and I both enjoyed spending
time in the lobby drinking cups of coffee to relax. It’s a good memory from one
of our adventures.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Anyone who knows me well is aware that the only
way I ever start my day is with a good cup of coffee. My pot is on an automatic
timer so that I don’t have to do anything but pour the coffee in the cup. On my
best days, I get to drink my first cup of coffee in complete silence.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Last week, I rolled out of bed one morning,
grabbed my clear cup, put in creamer, and poured a cup of coffee. As I headed
to the couch in the kitchen, I lifted the coffee to my lips and before I took
my first drink, I realized I had the measuring cup instead of my Bailey’s cup. One
good thing about the measuring cup—it has a spout so it was easy to transfer
one transparent cup to the other. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">The advantage of a transparent cup is that you
can see the goodness of the coffee within. Another observation is that I could also
clearly see the coffee in the measuring cup, but it didn’t meet my
expectations.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">People aren’t usually very transparent.
Wouldn’t it be awful if your thoughts appeared in bubbles over your head for
others to see? So many hurtful things are better left unspoken.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Dementia can erase a person’s filter, and they
may say exactly what they think. After Jim quit smoking, he would tell complete
strangers, “You better quit smoking those damned cigarettes!” It was what he
thought, and it came out of his mouth. I’m sure he was trying to help, but he
forgot how huffy he would have been if someone had said such a thing to him
when he was still smoking.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Transparency in a relationship means that you
can trust your partner, spouse, or friend to be honest with you. You know what
to expect and you aren’t trying to guess what another’s motives are. A
transparent relationship has open communication and you are confident enough to
share your honest feelings and opinions.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Some of us are lucky enough to find soul mates,
soul sisters, or friends that can lift your spirits just to hear their voice on
the phone. I feel fortunate to have increased my circle of loved ones over the
years. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Too often older people can feel isolated and
depressed because they suffer the loss of people they love. The most difficult
challenge in life is to go on living after a devastating loss. You wake up
feeling normal, and then like a lightning bolt your heart takes a direct hit
when you remember that you will never see your loved one again. Love hurts, but
love heals.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Transparency is an honorable way to live when
tempered with love and kindness. Whether your truth is as beautiful as a
crystal clear coffee mug or as practical as a transparent measuring cup, life
is good when you are loved for being your own unique self. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle"><o:p> </o:p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright
© Jan 2024 by L.S. Fisher<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-76839009377829959642024-01-31T18:07:00.000-08:002024-02-17T14:40:28.814-08:00Clean Slate<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZIQMueFCuk8cx4SOFBco1tFvI-TBWQw2PVS2rwUiq4DUSAuP_es_Nf3q6GtpoYYKeIVh0IBwWNutWH4J2rW_xfbH86wjH1EIEJmY39k7gRQjcfMc2bfKy-kFv5LCiwrREsf6_9OIMgd96BgqeWtfLyzdqbk8LtyA3_EVYqAshiQD_fE3NBgt2jPk5A4/s900/clean%20slate.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="900" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZIQMueFCuk8cx4SOFBco1tFvI-TBWQw2PVS2rwUiq4DUSAuP_es_Nf3q6GtpoYYKeIVh0IBwWNutWH4J2rW_xfbH86wjH1EIEJmY39k7gRQjcfMc2bfKy-kFv5LCiwrREsf6_9OIMgd96BgqeWtfLyzdqbk8LtyA3_EVYqAshiQD_fE3NBgt2jPk5A4/s320/clean%20slate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Although January is almost over, I couldn’t help
but think about how nice it would be to start the New Year off with a clean
slate. Some people attempt this by making resolutions and giving themselves
mental pep talks to be a better person.</div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">The hard part about starting with a clean slate
is that we cannot let go of the baggage we drag along behind us. We can’t stop
thinking about our mistakes, insecurities, and failures. We can’t forgive
ourselves, much less others.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">And what about that grudge? Who is it hurting? </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">A person with Alzheimer’s has a clean slate in
some ways. The most recent memories are the first to go. A woman who was in our
support group many years ago was disturbed because her husband didn’t recognize
her and thought he was married to his first wife who had passed away. He would
say, “Who are you and why are you in my house?” When she told him that she was
his wife, he didn’t believe her. In his mind, the woman he had married wasn’t the
stranger living in his house. Another man would wander away from his home and
show up on his ex-wife’s doorstep. She would invite him in for coffee and call
his current wife to come and get him.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">These men did not remember why they were no
longer married to the same woman they were married to in their younger years.
The slate had been wiped clean of the problems that brought about the demise of
their first marriage.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Jim and I married young and it was the first
marriage for both of us. I never knew the consternation caused by being wiped
from his memory. The flip side of the clean slate for recent events is that
early memories can return with an unusual clarity. Jim’s PTSD worsened and Vietnam
seemed to be in his recent past rather than the distant past where it belonged.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Babies begin life with a clean slate, but early
in their development, their slates become intertwined with the world around
them. A child’s impressionable mind and curiosity shapes the ideals, beliefs,
biases, and personality traits that will last a lifetime. Some people who begin
life with bad influences will later learn to reset and change their lives for
the better. Genetics and environment muddy our slates.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Wouldn’t it be great to wake up in the morning
and begin the day with a clean slate? If we could just mentally wipe away the
wrongs we have done and the hurts that we carry in our hearts, we could begin
life anew.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">It is much easier for me to forgive others than
it is to forgive myself. The saddest part of life is when you don’t get a
chance to right a wrong. Some people are fragile and it doesn’t take a lot to
break them. I will admit that I don’t have a lot of patience with people who
habitually look for the negative or are offended when no offense was intended.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I don’t get my feelings hurt easily. I’ve
always said that if someone really wants to insult me, they better be blunt and
bold; otherwise, I’ll assume they accidently misspoke. That’s about as close as
I get to a clean slate. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I don’t mentally rehash insults or snubs, and they
fade into the recesses of my mind to be forever banished. I’ve had people
apologize to me for some minor incident that I had not only forgave and forgot,
but also forgot that I forgave.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Life is much more enjoyable without drama. The
best way to stop drama is to wipe the slate clean and start over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br />Copyright
© Jan 2024 by L.S. Fisher</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-68972829523152959492024-01-14T15:51:00.000-08:002024-01-14T15:57:49.490-08:00Baby, It's Cold Outside<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnybDV0jLNpDkZKYtrba-USUtNhyphenhyphenT3l1syN1baYyFGg2AlpbqjWu3-KrOYiacKwK64US4M1Z7xxvffMla5K7Q1WtFyQiOgV8ppYGmjOgon-J9CK2DVSl155INRa5h6hOe_0FTYkVN6XxJZ68-eNTfCBtl_X7XSM9eMJLM9KgoRnIS5Js3sUnif_suPVSs/s2000/Linda%20Jan%2024%20blog.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnybDV0jLNpDkZKYtrba-USUtNhyphenhyphenT3l1syN1baYyFGg2AlpbqjWu3-KrOYiacKwK64US4M1Z7xxvffMla5K7Q1WtFyQiOgV8ppYGmjOgon-J9CK2DVSl155INRa5h6hOe_0FTYkVN6XxJZ68-eNTfCBtl_X7XSM9eMJLM9KgoRnIS5Js3sUnif_suPVSs/s320/Linda%20Jan%2024%20blog.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify;">Maybe the cold arctic blast shouldn’t be a
surprise since I have always lived in the psychotic state of Missouri,
nicknamed Misery at times. We are enduring the days of wind chills, snow, ice,
cancellations, and danger of frostbite.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I am thankful that I no longer have to drive to
work in this kind of miserable weather. I’m a competent bad weather driver, but
other drivers make me nervous. I only drive in bad weather when it is
necessary.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Jim, on the other hand, loved to drive in bad weather.
He liked to “break” the roads, and if we got stuck, he knew someone would come
along with a tractor and pull us out. It suited me to have Jim chauffeur me
when our roads were drifted or icy.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">I was never as confident as Jim when it came to
driving on slick roads. When he was in the early stages of dementia, I had him
drive me to work a few times.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">As Jim’s dementia progressed, so did my worry
that he would wander off in inclement weather and die from exposure. As we
struggled with the nursing home question, Jim’s wandering was a big
consideration. “If he wanders off in the wintertime,” I told my sons, “we may
not get to make the nursing home decision.”</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Wandering is common among persons with
dementia. Among the top dangers is that a person who wanders may die from harsh
weather exposure. Caregivers should be vigilant, especially during extreme
weather conditions. A precaution that can be taken for those who wander would
be to invest in a device that provides a location for the individual. For
example, a caregiver or family member could invest in a wristwatch with GPS
tracking for their loved one. </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Falls are another danger associated with
wintertime. I was Miss Slippy-Slidey but Jim was sure footed. He
was always good to hang on to me to keep me from falling. After Jim passed
away, I was walking across the yard and slipped and fell on the ice. My feet
flew out from under me and I landed flat on my back, slamming my head down on
the ice. I told my sister-in-law that I “broke my head” and I didn’t feel like
it was an exaggeration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Now, my
biggest issue with the weather is taking the dog out. When I took her out this
morning in -20 wind chills, I layered layers on my layers. My dog has a thick
fur coat and looks at snow as entertainment. She roams around sniffing at the
snow, running though a snowdrift, or catching the scent of some animal under
the hedges. She sets the tone for our outings and never seems to be in a hurry.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Last night, I took the dog out after dark, and
as we wandered through the freshly fallen snow, I realized that I had forgotten
my phone. I knew Harold was asleep on the couch and that if I fell…Well, let’s
just say that I was extra, extra careful.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">Caution is good this time of year, but you can’t
afford to lose your momentum. Jim used to tackle the hills near our house by “taking
a run at it.” He said, “If you keep steady momentum, you don’t spin your tires.”
</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpMiddle">Think about it: building momentum and getting
good traction could be a life lesson.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacingCxSpLast"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright
© Jan 2024 by L.S. Fisher<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 0in;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-66586383529630910862023-12-31T21:40:00.000-08:002023-12-31T21:40:03.576-08:00Midnight <p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLAmKj46GDQaoJPPkMY74POeEt1Zdp1AcgOGPfounoL8ZL2DZbIF2Ykd3qYbwr9s5RL5xlWouA7kZxkNNHMJdZ3W7ciSmMGvmOtR19v7vh90Biy6dGciaFkZmKo3EGEeTev4_2EhRR9ecfhRUnHVVWRh6MBSZu1A-RauJQTijmD12dn5iNmunTG7XP98/s2000/20231213_175416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLAmKj46GDQaoJPPkMY74POeEt1Zdp1AcgOGPfounoL8ZL2DZbIF2Ykd3qYbwr9s5RL5xlWouA7kZxkNNHMJdZ3W7ciSmMGvmOtR19v7vh90Biy6dGciaFkZmKo3EGEeTev4_2EhRR9ecfhRUnHVVWRh6MBSZu1A-RauJQTijmD12dn5iNmunTG7XP98/s320/20231213_175416.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I used to think of midnight as the
“witching” hour, but now I think of it as my absolute latest bedtime. I don’t
know why, but it seems that no matter what time I begin preparing for bed, it
is midnight before I actually crawl between the sheets.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every night I go through a mental
checklist: I prepare the coffee pot for the next morning, take the dog outside,
fill the dog’s feed and water bowls, fix ice water for the bedside, put on my
pj’s, take my meds, brush teeth and use
the Waterpik. It almost never fails that as soon as I lie down, I remember
something I forgot to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lately, I’ve gone to bed at
midnight and awakened at 4 a.m. If I’m lucky, I can read my book for a while,
and go back to sleep until a more appropriate hour. I’m pretty sure that the
early wake up hour is a carryover from the days when Jim slept an average of
four hours at night, which meant that I also slept about four hours a night. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On good days, I get to take a nap.
On busy days, I just force myself to keep on going.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today has been a busy day. I picked
up my mom and we went to music practice at my brother’s house. I wasn’t sure
Mom would go in the freezing cold weather. During our morning telephone
conversation she said that it seemed like she just spent a lot of time in her
chair and that she just didn’t feel much like going out. Anyway, she felt like
going to music practice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I know how you feel. It seems the
less I do, the less I want to go,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m always playing catch-up. I have
so many tasks I need to do, and then there’s the chores I intend to do, and, of
course, there are things I want to do. I want to play my ukulele and sing, so I
look forward to practice and to playing at the retirement/nursing homes. We
worked on some new material today and the challenge was good for us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">These short winter days throw a
kink into my plans. I have trouble driving at night. My eyes have always been
sensitive to light and the new ultra bright headlights give me a headache. Our
club meetings are after dark this time of year. The drive into town for the
last meeting was nerve-wracking, and that was in good weather.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m slowing down in my older age.
Everything takes longer and my concentration isn’t what it used to be. I
certainly cannot multitask anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is the last day of 2023 and one
minute after midnight, we usher in a new year. I don’t plan to set any
earth-shattering goals for 2024. I hope that I allow myself to rest when I’m
weary, look for the good and overlook the bad, cherish the quiet moments, think
happy thoughts, and be kind to others and to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright © Dec 2023 by L.S. Fisher<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">#ENDALZ </span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-41123982720649492422023-12-25T18:12:00.000-08:002023-12-25T18:12:13.905-08:00Christmas Mouse and Angel Dog<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVlCj-wT3ZQt-yjQ1fQSDTWPU7nEhP0_YzbNVq7gYJ0DC44aR35aqc5-WmIlJjF0RgWVylbNh95wpoVtjbDlR2qMlaPjNJ3iTtUUr4OYfOB-3CfyCDMz71BD7p3_vicMfuHweD18IZDxhTOLeA55f3HlpTdkCd1lm21MqLAz7hx8mol5h8V37UiBwv7U/s1200/Dog%20Angel%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVlCj-wT3ZQt-yjQ1fQSDTWPU7nEhP0_YzbNVq7gYJ0DC44aR35aqc5-WmIlJjF0RgWVylbNh95wpoVtjbDlR2qMlaPjNJ3iTtUUr4OYfOB-3CfyCDMz71BD7p3_vicMfuHweD18IZDxhTOLeA55f3HlpTdkCd1lm21MqLAz7hx8mol5h8V37UiBwv7U/s320/Dog%20Angel%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Earlier
this month I went to the basement, rummaged through the storage tubs, and
decided how many decorations to scatter about the house. In the past few years,
the tubs have been moved around due to some plumbing issues, and I often find my
decorations right after the holiday.</span></div></span><p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">As
I rode the chairlift from the basement, I placed nutcrackers on the shelf next
to the stairway. I was a little puzzled as to why I only had three of the four
Wizard of Oz nutcrackers. The cowardly lion had apparently gone missing. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
continued to carry up ornaments, the table centerpiece, and various other
decorations. I placed the centerpiece on the table and decided I needed to
rest.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">That
evening, Harold called from the hall at the head of the stairs, “There’s a dead
mouse on the floor.”</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
rushed to see the “mouse” and told him, “That’s not a mouse, it’s a sprig off
the dining table centerpiece.” OK, it was dark in the hallway, but really? I
know he has trouble seeing, but the mouse would have had to be dead for a long
time to turn green.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Later,
we decided to begin by decorating the artificial tree that stands in the corner
of the living room. Harold handed me the ornaments, and I placed them on the
tree. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">We
leave lights on the “tree” year round and through the foliage, I sometimes miss
ornaments. I found an ornament toward the back of the tree. “Oh, look, I said,
here’s the Dalmatian angel I bought you when your dog died.” </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
only brought up one fiber optic Christmas tree and it required no ornaments. I
usually put up the silver Christmas tree that belonged to Harold’s mom and the
small tree that was in Jim’s room at the nursing home. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Often,
when I walked into Jim’s room, he would be gazing at the Christmas tree. I only
put up a tree in Jim’s room and never went overboard with decorating. I’d
learned my lesson the last time, I decorated when Jim lived at home. I was
removing framed family photos from the shelves in the living room so I could put
up Christmas decorations. I turned my back and Jim replaced the photos where
they belonged. That’s when I realized that he didn’t want the familiar family
photos replaced with the bright and shiny decorations.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
have so many nutcrackers that I haven’t been putting up all of them. Last
Christmas I placed nutcrackers on the landing shelf on the west side of the
house. I usually later replace them with snowmen and in February show off my
elephant collection. Well, I have a hard time on those stairs because they
don’t have a stairlift. About October, I thought I really should take down
those nutcrackers…but since it was nearing the Christmas season again, I just
left them.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
happened to think that maybe that’s where that cowardly lion was, but I looked
them over and he wasn’t there. Another trip to the basement, and I found
another group of nutcrackers. As I placed them on the shelf, I saw the mouse
king. Hmmm, I thought I’d already placed him on the shelf. I took a closer look
at the “mouse king” and discovered it was the missing Wizard of Oz lion. Guess
Harold isn’t the only one that needs new glasses. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
house looks festive, without being overdone, and I enjoy being in the living
room at night with the soft glow of the Christmas lights. When I walk by, I
always touch the Angel Dog for luck. It may not work, but at least it doesn’t
hurt anything. </p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Copyright © Dec 2023 by L.S. Fisher</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">#ENDALZ </span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-15434241259583763372023-12-24T17:34:00.000-08:002023-12-24T17:34:34.222-08:00Mario Karts, Christmas Eve 2001<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvFEtySgieU_DXG4gMF6_9Dd_Vn8-pA4wTMhs6W2hM9iikqwiMmkKbA11jyjvQQenAI0JtHNY85Q_BYsUZ-lomoGVuFgXjSihAL-d_wBnRur9sPUlQZvvvcweLoDJxG6no5Bl3S04FOCrSm09MzhSXafB1C9OWpL1rXfjI4xW8l8l-FOVqCOP0BBFC8Y/s2095/Jim%20Linda%20Colby%20Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1424" data-original-width="2095" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvFEtySgieU_DXG4gMF6_9Dd_Vn8-pA4wTMhs6W2hM9iikqwiMmkKbA11jyjvQQenAI0JtHNY85Q_BYsUZ-lomoGVuFgXjSihAL-d_wBnRur9sPUlQZvvvcweLoDJxG6no5Bl3S04FOCrSm09MzhSXafB1C9OWpL1rXfjI4xW8l8l-FOVqCOP0BBFC8Y/s320/Jim%20Linda%20Colby%20Christmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Excerpt from <i>Indelible</i>:<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another
Christmas. I put up a tree while I was alone in the house and didn’t cry. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
nursing home halls were ornately decorated for the holidays. “Jim stopped his
merry walker in front of Santa,” the charge nurse said pointing at a wall
hanging of the jolly old elf. “Then, he stopped and said, ‘Hello, Santa.’ ” She
held up her hand as if to swear it was the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wish
I’d seen that!” I said. Jim spoke so rarely. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Along
with the Christmas decorations, was a flag made with cutouts of children’s
hands. It had been hanging on the wall since a few weeks after the September 11
tragedy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
few days after the Santa incident, I noticed Jim stopping in front of the flag
and tipping his cap. I thought maybe he was adjusting it, but a few days later,
he stopped in front of the flag and saluted it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There
was some discussion among the family as to whether I should bring Jim home for
the traditional Christmas Eve gathering. My thoughts were that Christmas was
for our family, and Jim was still part of that family. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
brought Jim home and helped him out of the van and down the walkway. He took
his usual seat on the reclining section of the couch. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rob
and Colby were playing video games on the TV. Before long, Jim yelled, “Hey!”
and jumped up and started going toward them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
wonder if he wants to play,” I said. At one time, Jim loved video games, and he
played <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mario Karts</i> long after he
developed dementia. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rob
ejected the game they were playing, and inserted <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mario Karts</i> into the Play Station.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Here,
Dad,” he said as he handed Jim a control. Jim didn’t seem to remember how to
use it, so Rob passed the other control to Colby and helped his dad maneuver
the one he held. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
a few races, Jim remembered how to run the car around the track, but the master
of the game was not competitive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Colby,
in true Fisher fashion, bragged about winning. “I beat Grandpa!” As young as he
was, Colby was well aware of his grandpa’s reputation for being a formidable
opponent. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
the game ended, Jim paced up and down the hall, but didn’t try to go out the
door. He showed no interest in opening presents. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
the gift exchange, we loaded Jim in the van for the trip back to the nursing
home. Jim didn’t notice the cheerful Christmas lights on the houses we passed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">About
halfway through our trip, he yelled and tried to get out of his seatbelt. I may
have bundled him up too much trying to keep him from getting cold, and instead
he was entirely too hot. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">We never knew that due to circumstances, and Jim’s
declining health, this would be his last Christmas at home. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright
© Dec 2023 by L.S. Fisher<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-62824934361201337402023-12-14T15:31:00.000-08:002023-12-14T15:31:13.439-08:00Making a Positive out of a Negative<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC50chSPSCuPTAmZJj3SmvLBfV_ZbYrYwmAN6weEJqi91JC2XBUwBt64VhzhGLBlLO_1k07BkeIWdb6zuocI8R8qzFZnz7nImiR33CX_hOcVJyP8jkKDU3WwDn3VqrzubVxsS182Kyksmgpan8VLdavBFPvrMVyrV9XdoQDXJ3HaIwrBTuVMaufS7GdfQ/s1363/Linda%20Photo%20credit%20Kevin%20Walker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="1234" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC50chSPSCuPTAmZJj3SmvLBfV_ZbYrYwmAN6weEJqi91JC2XBUwBt64VhzhGLBlLO_1k07BkeIWdb6zuocI8R8qzFZnz7nImiR33CX_hOcVJyP8jkKDU3WwDn3VqrzubVxsS182Kyksmgpan8VLdavBFPvrMVyrV9XdoQDXJ3HaIwrBTuVMaufS7GdfQ/s320/Linda%20Photo%20credit%20Kevin%20Walker.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><p></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Being
a volunteer has changed the trajectory of my life. At first, volunteering for
the Alzheimer’s Association was a way of making a positive out of a negative. Volunteering
helped to offset the helplessness of losing Jim one memory, one skill at a
time.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Jim
and I were the only two people from Sedalia in the 1998 Memory Walk, and I
volunteered to chair the walk the next year. I didn’t realize how many miles
and years would follow. I was chair for five years and have served on the
planning committee for more than twenty years. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">For
nineteen consecutive years, I made the journey to the Alzheimer’s Forum in
Washington DC. At the Forum, we learned about Alzheimer’s research, attended
plenary programs, soaked up information about research funding and legislative
issues. On Hill day, a thousand Alzheimer’s Ambassadors armed with facts,
figures, and personal stories wore purple sashes and visited their senators and
representatives. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
first year I went to Washington, DC, NIH research funding was about $400
million. Because of the Ambassador program, funding for Alzheimer’s disease
research at the National Institutes of Health has reached $3.7 billion
annually. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
experiences I’ve had and the people I’ve met have enriched my life. The first
year I attended the Forum, I met kindred souls: Jane Adams, Kathy Siggins, and
Sarah Harris. I met and became friends with Alzheimer’s Association staff
members, other advocates, celebrities, senators and representatives, and
persons with dementia.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
year I was to make my 20<sup>th</sup> annual visit to Washington DC, Covid hit
and the meeting was cancelled at the last minute because of restrictions. Because of health concerns, I resigned as an ambassador last year. I most likely will
never go to the Forum again.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">In
2008, I began to blog at earlyonset.blogspot.com. Writing was an outlet for my
emotions, and I was able to help others by sharing my experiences as a
caregiver. Annually, I print a book of my blog posts and use them as part of my
Mozark Press corporate sponsorship at the Walk to End Alzheimer’s.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Each
year after the Walk to End Alzheimer’s, I feel exhilarated, refreshed, and
hopeful that a cure is imminent. The white flower at our walk symbolizes the
first person to be cured of Alzheimer’s disease.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Like
most Alzheimer’s volunteers, I have a connection to the disease and saw the
Alzheimer’s Association in action. Their local Chapter helped me when I was at
my most vulnerable.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">My
observation is that good volunteers have passion for the cause, take action and
use their particular skill set to do their share of the work, and are willing
to be part of a team effort. A volunteer needs a positive attitude to get past
any disappointments.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Losing
Jim to dementia was the greatest tragedy in my life, but I feel so blessed that
we shared good times, hard times, love, laughter, and tears. He not only
changed my life, he changed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Jim
was the reason we went to the first Memory Walk. “We need to go to that walk,”
he said, “because I’m having trouble with my memory.” That walk was the
beginning of a new era in my life when I stepped out of my comfort zone and
became a volunteer. I believe that I receive as much from being a volunteer as
I give.</p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;">Photo credit Kevin Walker Photography, 2023 Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer's</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright
© Dec 2023 by L.S. Fisher<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;">#ENDALZ<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-41568314645877546632023-11-30T21:59:00.000-08:002023-11-30T22:00:58.106-08:00Age is Just a Number <p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6g_AcGUBnWlnENm2qxS-jKOUU5SPEWW6RC8d40OTjU46T7l1zBBA_PK6pox6TCETSLjVMBsDmEhdtww6ikTHxvpyW2BoyIILad_QE2bM-KfRE5q7hZ2vZTHfKCsIM9BVsGpdqwVbeBkUBCvZjJe8Nl8vpTv3LCEx8sElSbxYS611yTxCSGMYKR38ewtU/s1902/Mom%20and%20Laney.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1902" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6g_AcGUBnWlnENm2qxS-jKOUU5SPEWW6RC8d40OTjU46T7l1zBBA_PK6pox6TCETSLjVMBsDmEhdtww6ikTHxvpyW2BoyIILad_QE2bM-KfRE5q7hZ2vZTHfKCsIM9BVsGpdqwVbeBkUBCvZjJe8Nl8vpTv3LCEx8sElSbxYS611yTxCSGMYKR38ewtU/s320/Mom%20and%20Laney.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dolly Parton, 77 years old,
performed at the Thanksgiving Halftime Show at the Dallas Cowboy’s game to
kickoff the Salvation Army’s Red Kettle Campaign. She looked stunning dressed
in a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader outfit. She sang “Jolene,” “Nine to Five,” and
ended with a mash up of “We are the Champions,” and “We Will Rock You.” Dolly
Parton proves that age is just a number. She attributes her youthful looks to
“Good doctors, good lighting, and good makeup.” It’s hard to argue with that.</div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Having determined that age is just
a number, I think my number ranges from sixteen to ninety. On good days when I
listen to the songs popular in my youth, I mentally revert to a teenager. On
the other hand, a weather change can make me feel like I have one foot in the
grave and the other on a banana peel (as my dad used to say). Ninety might seem
like a stretch to the younger side.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were singing at a nursing home and a man
walked up to my sister-in-law and tried to get her to bet him $5 that he
couldn’t guess her age. She said that she didn’t have any money on her, but he
assured her that he could guess her age. He finally said, “You are between
forty and ninety.” His observation made us laugh. I not only can’t guess
anyone’s age, I’d hate to guess someone as older than they are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have a cousin who was brain
injured at birth and although she is older than I am, she looks like a young
person. Laney is always smiling and happy to see her family. When we play
music, she is always waiting for us. She smiles and claps her hands when we
come in. She expresses her joy in the simple moments of life and finds pleasure
in simple gifts. Laney likes purses, jewelry, and fixing her dolls’ hair. She
hasn’t worried herself into wrinkles. She celebrated her birthday this month,
and she is proof that age is just a number.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jim’s dementia made him seem
younger at first. He became more childlike and dependent on me. I remember a
cold winter night when our water froze at the well. Jim ignored my distress and
continued calmly watching “Walker Texas Ranger” on TV. I called my son and my
brother-in-law and told them our troubles. I put on my insulated coveralls, my
boots, stocking cap, heavy gloves and stepped out into the night. By the time,
I was bundled up for the cold, Eric and Billy were working on warming the well
house. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I told Eric that Jim didn’t seemed
the least bit concerned about not having any water. Eric laughed and said, “I
bet he would have been upset if the electricity went off and he couldn’t watch
TV.” When you remove the worried look from someone’s face, they do appear
younger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My almost 97-year-old mother is the most age
defying person I know. She always looks youthful and put together. When I call
her and ask how she is, she will say, “Well, I woke up today so it will be a
good day.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was relating this story to my
former classmates at our last luncheon. After we chuckled, one of them said,
“Yeah, until you don’t wake up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well,” I said, “I can’t think of a
better way to go than to just not wake up one morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Most of us wear our life
experiences on our faces and our bodies. Still, I think the most wrinkled
shriveled up person looks better than the person with bad plastic surgery.
Nothing looks worse than skin stretched so tight that it’s shiny and lips that
look like a toilet plunger. And why, oh, why would anyone want their butt to
look bigger?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, most of us look better with the
faces and bodies that life gave us. Except Dolly. Dolly looks awesome. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright © Nov 2023 by L.S. Fisher<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-88556701035163281162023-11-11T15:33:00.000-08:002023-11-11T15:33:06.031-08:00Jingle, Jangle<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1QPJx2zDn5R_y6XDcAu38YEbxo6lNxrvGaEFIzkpDNyssFv2jAeqUZ6kLw2RHLm-H4jPpzG5Wfjw29YK088c5sN8pJqHucCoDcHYpuLFvXGBQub0NMCBxsB2hHpUHkmsUmW_OYnPOdym1Z_HvXFSkfXU7_WbITIU90ZQBePsjnb6sMD-RzZxoOHGaKa4/s1617/Jim%20Dec%201969%20Oahu.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1617" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1QPJx2zDn5R_y6XDcAu38YEbxo6lNxrvGaEFIzkpDNyssFv2jAeqUZ6kLw2RHLm-H4jPpzG5Wfjw29YK088c5sN8pJqHucCoDcHYpuLFvXGBQub0NMCBxsB2hHpUHkmsUmW_OYnPOdym1Z_HvXFSkfXU7_WbITIU90ZQBePsjnb6sMD-RzZxoOHGaKa4/s320/Jim%20Dec%201969%20Oahu.JPG" width="237" /></a></span></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">This
morning, fellow gamer and Facebook friend, William posted the song “Sugar,
Sugar” by the Archies. I was one of the people he tagged with the question, “Do
you remember this song?” I immediately answered that I did, and strangely, the
song “Jingle Jangle” was what Jim and I considered “our song.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">Once
you know the back-story, it may not seem strange at all. Flashback to Oahu, Hawaii,
December 1969: I flew from the states and Jim from the jungles of Vietnam to
exchange our vows and become husband and wife. We spent six days together, and
in the wee hours of Christmas morning, Jim returned to the war and I returned
home.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">In
my mind, Hawaii was forever linked with the music we listened to while we were
there. We heard “Jingle Jangle” for the first time while we were in Hawaii, and
it became our song. It was a happy, upbeat song and always awakened memories of
sand, ocean, sunlight, and especially love. Our love was new, fresh, and
exciting.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">When
Jim returned from Vietnam, He had another year to complete his commitment to
Uncle Sam. Jim was stationed at Fort Riley and in 1970, we moved to Manhattan,
Kansas. For the first sweltering summer, we lived in a one-room apartment. I
guess you could stretch it to two rooms if you counted the tiny bathroom. We
had one window and no air-conditioning, but at least we had a box fan.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">In
September, we were able to move into the main part of the house where we had
plenty of room. We decided we wanted a stereo to play some vinyl, and went to a
department store looking for one. As we walked in, we heard “Jingle Jangle”
playing on a console stereo. We struck a deal with the sales person that we
would buy the stereo if he would throw in the album that was playing.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">Next
stop in the story, winter, 2005. Jim lived in a nursing home, but I visited him
every day that I possibly could. The following story is from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Indelible</i>, the unfinished memoir I’ve
been working on for several years:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jim and I were watching the playoff game
between Denver and the Jets. The cable went off so I looked in Jim’s drawer and
found an audio tape and popped it in his tape player. I pushed play and
realized he had taped some of our old record albums.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” played, Jim acted upset. Had that song stirred
memories of when we lived in Manhattan, Kansas, right after he came back from
Vietnam?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Archies song “Sugar Sugar” began to
play, he didn’t pay much attention to it. Mavie liked it. She had her doll and
was swinging it around and dancing. She looked like she was singing the words,
and who knows, maybe she knew the song too.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim
was running a temperature for the second night in a row. I walked to the nurses’
station to talk to Marie about his fever.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“If he gets worse, do you want me to send
him to the hospital and then give you a call?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“No. Call me first and I’ll take him,” I
said.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Daniel came to the counter with a pair of
panties. “Would you deliver this letter for me?” he asked, folding the panties
and offering them to me.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i>“Daniel, I don’t work for the post office,”
I told him. </i></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I got Marie’s attention, and she said, “Why
don’t you give me the letter, Daniel? Hey, Hanes Her Way. I’ll see that she
gets it.” That satisfied Daniel and he wandered down the hallway.</i></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i>When I stopped at Jim’s room to get my coat
and purse, “Jingle Jangle” began to play. That was “our” song, and the one that
made my heart ache. I blinked back tears and kissed him on the forehead, and
said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He closed his eyes and soon was napping
peacefully.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jim would have been on my mind on
this day that honors veterans, but hearing the upbeat song “Sugar, Sugar”
almost seemed like a gentle nudge from the other side. The love we had lives in
my memories, in my heart, and makes my soul complete. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">In my memories today, Jim and I
will walk hand-in-hand, toes in the sand, with our life together ahead of us. </span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Copyright © Nov 2023 by L.S. Fisher</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">#ENDALZ</p><br /><p></p></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-66579278376105193342023-11-09T12:54:00.005-08:002023-11-09T13:10:45.255-08:00Communication<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOANrSnOTCUU9zdXoyTwkAH-NKlvLtvuPCHW90Y9zFnTLjchNA8cS8YuGMoDYbM6es7qppbIswbaKUf9zvuu4h7Uefyi-NZ_DF-DuAfwsglANdbE6yRHMmHEON1l2Kg-kHEHEl6GiI3vpwaham2VUzJXXW9Q_aBizEELKwoC6XAz9IrG7rawTzhFChoo/s1799/2023%20Linda%20at%20Slyvia%20G%20Speaking.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1799" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOANrSnOTCUU9zdXoyTwkAH-NKlvLtvuPCHW90Y9zFnTLjchNA8cS8YuGMoDYbM6es7qppbIswbaKUf9zvuu4h7Uefyi-NZ_DF-DuAfwsglANdbE6yRHMmHEON1l2Kg-kHEHEl6GiI3vpwaham2VUzJXXW9Q_aBizEELKwoC6XAz9IrG7rawTzhFChoo/s320/2023%20Linda%20at%20Slyvia%20G%20Speaking.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I
recently gave a presentation on Communication for family night at a local
nursing home. Since Jim had aphasia, I had experience communicating with him. A
person with aphasia has difficulty with both written and spoken language.</span></div></span><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Jim
became a man of few words. As the disease progressed, he used familiar phrases.
His favorite two phrases were “You’re going the wrong way” and “Right here but
I can’t find it.” When he was searching for the correct word for an object, he
would sometimes describe it. He might also point at the “thingy” when he
couldn’t remember the name for it.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Jim
would lose his train of thought. He might start a sentence and forget what he
was trying to say before he got to the end of it.</p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
key to communicating with your loved one is to remember the three V’s. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">(1)
Verbal (words), (2) Vocal (tone), and (3) Visual (facial expressions or
gestures.)</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">You
may have heard of the 7-38-55 Rule. The rule is that 7% of communication is the
spoken word, 28% is tone of voice, and 55% is body language. Some experts say
that the 7-38-55 Rule is not true, but when we communicate with a person who
has dementia, this rule is valid.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For Verbal Communication (7%):</span></b></p>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gain their attention!</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Approach from the front,
identify yourself and call him or her by name. Find a quiet space and
avoid background distractions.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Speak</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <b>clearly</b>. Ask one question at a time. Offer clear, step-by-step<b> </b>instructions for tasks. On
vacation in Colorado, Jim picked up the coffee pot and looked puzzled. I
realized he couldn’t remember the steps to making a pot of coffee. I
guided him through the process, one step at a time. I waited until he had
finished each section before telling him the next one. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ask yes or no questions</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. Instead of “What would you
like to drink?” ask, “Would you like some coffee?” Be positive. “Let’s try
this” instead of “Don’t do that.”<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Listen Actively!</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Nod. Make eye contact. Watch
for clues. Jim often said, “It’s hot in here!” but he was shivering. Pause
and allow time for the person to respond. Don’t expect a quick response or
an appropriate response. Do not criticize, correct, or argue with your
loved one.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ul>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For Vocal Communication (Tone of Voice 38% of communication):</span></b></p>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Be patient and calm</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Keep your voice friendly.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> If you are angry about
something else, your loved one may think you are angry with them. When I
visited the nursing home after work, I practiced clearing my mind as I
walked down the hallway to Jim’s room.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Be respectful</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> and <u>don’</u>t talk to an
adult as you would a child.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Speak conversationally</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> in a normal voice. I used to
tell Jim stories about his dog or the grandkids. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Avoid asking open ended questions</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. Do not ask if they know who you
are. If in doubt, tell them who you are.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ul>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">VISUAL: (Body Language and facial expressions 55% of
communication)</span></b></p>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Give visual cues.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Point or demonstrate and
encourage non-verbal communication. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hold or touch your loved one’s
hand</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> to
keep their attention and show you care.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Consider the feelings behind
the words</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.
Your loved one’s emotions may tell you more than their words. Jim cried
when he saw a relative that he hadn’t seen in a long time, and she thought
she had done something wrong. I told her that Jim recognized and it meant
so much to him that he cried.</span></li></ul>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Whether you use verbal, vocal, or visual communication,
adapt to your listener.<b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Try to understand the words and
gestures your loved one is using to communicate and adapt to his or her way of
communicating.<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tell visitors that it’s OK if you
don’t know what to say. The most important thing is that you visit and let your
loved one know that you still care. My brother-in-law used to take his guitar
to the nursing home and play and sing some of the songs that he and Jim used to
sing together.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My final thought: If your loved one
can’t come to your world, go to theirs!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Source: alz.org</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Copyright © Oct
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">#ENDALZ</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-53364588094079523652023-10-31T16:04:00.003-07:002023-10-31T16:05:40.480-07:00Scary October<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsA-pLTemOCwIat23RxmO_EviHLtRDfL7-cL_sanhdGNo853TA917FaiD5cAyWLhM2qZKhGUg3Cxbba6k18TY5hKHOQ6I_syegFyqPvNu0OA5iuNR9U9WDCCI_H-cVY1yuLxuK_7D2-C86heYHuoI8BUWT6bOlLqNXyN5KadBBo-VkSZQlZDnIiC2ptY/s1824/Halloween%202010%20002.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1824" data-original-width="1368" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsA-pLTemOCwIat23RxmO_EviHLtRDfL7-cL_sanhdGNo853TA917FaiD5cAyWLhM2qZKhGUg3Cxbba6k18TY5hKHOQ6I_syegFyqPvNu0OA5iuNR9U9WDCCI_H-cVY1yuLxuK_7D2-C86heYHuoI8BUWT6bOlLqNXyN5KadBBo-VkSZQlZDnIiC2ptY/s320/Halloween%202010%20002.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">October
is a month of witches, ghosts, nightmares, and scary movies on TV. Make believe
scary though doesn’t hold a black candle to real October.</span></div></span><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">You
don’t have to believe in ghosts to be visited by one, and you don’t have to
believe in witches to think that you have personally met one. There’s no way
around the fact that strange things happen in this world.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">October
is the month when weird things just can’t help but happen. I can take my dog
out at midnight any other month of the year, and enjoy the starry sky, a gentle
breeze, a brilliant moon, and even a gentle falling snow.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">On
the other hand, go out at midnight in October and expect to hear coyotes
howling, dark racing clouds obscuring the moon, the wind causing mysterious
bangs and clangs, and the feeling that someone is watching…and waiting. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">If
you want to “see something really scary” (As they said the movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Twilight Zone</i>) read the possible side
effects of the medicine that you take every day. If that doesn’t make the hair
on your head stand up, a ghost or goblin doesn’t stand a chance.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don’t
you just love the commercials on TV that tell you all the benefits of a
medicine and show happy, tanned, and beautiful people enjoying life. Then in
the last half minute talk at warp speed about the horrible things the medicine
can do to a person. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that the scarier the disease, the
more frightening the treatment. Makes you wonder which is going to get you
first. We made the decision to try a study drug on Jim for his dementia.
Knowing Jim’s personality before the disease, we knew that he would be the
first in line for an experimental drug for a disease that had no cure.
Unfortunately, the drug didn’t help him, but we had to stop it because of the
side effects. It was a small study, but when we dropped out of the program, we
found out that all participants had stopped the drug.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Jim
showed a slight cognitive improvement with Exelon. As the dosage increased, Jim
had to be taken to the emergency room because of the side effects. Before the
drug cleared his system, he became agitated and was kicked out of the nursing
home for behavior. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">While
Jim was in regenerations, an antipsychotic medication made him so aggressive
that he was like a different, scary person. Eric and I took him out of the
hospital for a few hours, and he tried to open the van door and mumbled
obscenities. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">After
arguing with the physician, we insisted they take Jim off the medication.
Within a few days, he was his old self again.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Prescription
drugs are a part of everyday life for those of us who reach a certain age. In
the U.S. around 16,000 people die each year from prescription drugs. More than
100,000 people in the U.S. die each year because they can’t afford the drugs
they need.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">There’s
no doubt about it, real life is much scarier than make believe spookiness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Copyright © Oct
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-7690335091790110602023-10-14T17:24:00.002-07:002023-10-14T17:24:37.927-07:00Running out of gas<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1jC5UnZkBixW_m5jsjtfFtjDrspjpI1kR0sGz8TvGPx_05FDw8092gz0Q326oDSKKUpWKzt-oT62AaU0_VKwPQu8Kr-znqDVFgL19XTC50zmyT6GNzmbADUl3IpTXlKCo8Z5Q0CJwAv412nkxWqwzVlUMgU399iVqjiQ2JlCiwvDT_Dn4x8CS2sLkDw/s1207/1990%20Jim%20and%20Linda%20working%20on%20house%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1094" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1jC5UnZkBixW_m5jsjtfFtjDrspjpI1kR0sGz8TvGPx_05FDw8092gz0Q326oDSKKUpWKzt-oT62AaU0_VKwPQu8Kr-znqDVFgL19XTC50zmyT6GNzmbADUl3IpTXlKCo8Z5Q0CJwAv412nkxWqwzVlUMgU399iVqjiQ2JlCiwvDT_Dn4x8CS2sLkDw/s320/1990%20Jim%20and%20Linda%20working%20on%20house%20.jpg" width="290" /></a></div>The
last time I drove to my brother’s house to practice music, I noticed that the
gas gauge on my car was slowly sinking toward the big <i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">E</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. I didn’t want to go through town to fill up my tank, so I made
the decision to head home. I knew that my next trip would have to be to the gas
station.</span><p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
sometimes feel as if the big <i>E</i> is permanently
attached to my body. I’m often exhausted, and regardless of all the tasks I
should be working on, I make my way to the recliner to watch TV, code for “take
a nap.” When I take a nap, it does help make up for my lack of sleep at night. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">My
alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. to have quiet time before the day starts. The
problem with getting up early is that most nights, I stay up until the witching
hour. Then, I feed and walk the dog, fix the coffee pot for the next morning,
fill our water containers to put at our bedsides, take my medicine and make
sure Harold has taken his. Finally, I put on my pj’s (if I’m not already
wearing them), brush my teeth and use my Water Pik. The timeframe that all this
preparation for bed is often determined by how long the dog takes. Once I’m in
bed, I read until I’m sleepy enough that I can shut my eyes and drift away.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">My
short nights are a carryover from my caregiving days. Jim would only sleep
about four hours a night, and that meant I slept about four hours each night. I
didn’t often have the luxury of a nap since I worked fulltime. At work, I
coffeed and went through the days like a buzz saw. At home, I ran on empty on a
regular basis and zombied my way through the weekends and evenings.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Life
can be exhausting at times and it takes all the energy I can muster, and more.
It’s staying at a task for one more hour, complete one more project, push it to
the limit, and cross another item off the To-Do List.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Lately,
as if there isn’t enough to do, we are completely renovating our rental house.
Daily decisions have to be made until my head is spinning from the effort. We
are flooded with bids, bills, and various contractors. By default, one
trustworthy contractor makes sure that the other contractors do what they are
supposed to do. We’re nearing the goal line on the inside, now for the outside.
I will be so thankful when the house is finished and rented. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
main difference between the rental and the house that Jim and I built is that
we did almost all the work ourselves. It took us a lot longer since we tried to
pay as we went. We finally broke down and made a small loan to finish the
inside. Every spare moment was spend building on the house, but when we looked
at what we had accomplished it was amazing.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
thing about running on empty—when you fill the tank, you can go for miles and
miles before the gauge shows the big <i>E</i>
again. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">Copyright © Oct
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">#ENDALZ</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-63928800474645544402023-09-30T21:18:00.001-07:002023-09-30T21:18:17.013-07:00The Ten Signs<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEUV-G9idN01UMq6fOA_-_igqsMQCLjhtWwKrSWcdee8wk9jTzg404xuzwKfwsH9Vslibupjg45YzexVbPjNQEn8B46fun6CctnQpPiLD5DG6xmSxm38FBrtL7zgOfU5i-RpeB9nz2PvewVBLox_tq7Xqg4S4WEj7yg0xsijeoRVghLiZbLMEsIrP-tc/s2100/IMG_0073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2100" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEUV-G9idN01UMq6fOA_-_igqsMQCLjhtWwKrSWcdee8wk9jTzg404xuzwKfwsH9Vslibupjg45YzexVbPjNQEn8B46fun6CctnQpPiLD5DG6xmSxm38FBrtL7zgOfU5i-RpeB9nz2PvewVBLox_tq7Xqg4S4WEj7yg0xsijeoRVghLiZbLMEsIrP-tc/s320/IMG_0073.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"> <span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Several
years ago, a friend and I went to see Bill Engvall in Columbia. As I neared the
venue, I saw people holding signs, and I said, “Oh, look. There are protesters
in front of the building.”</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was closer I could read the signs, and
they said, “Here’s Your Sign.” Well, at that moment I wondered what it was a
sign of that I hadn’t figured that out before I read the signs.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Life
is filled with signs and clues. We might read daily horoscopes to see what the day
holds in store. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Signs
are everywhere, including ten signs of Alzheimer’s disease.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">1.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Memory
loss that disrupts daily life</b>. The most common sign of Alzheimer’s disease
is short-term memory loss. Often old friends will not realize someone has dementia
because they can remember in detail something that happened thirty years ago.
“There’s nothing wrong with his memory,” one of Jim’s cousins told me. They had
been talking about the old days, and Jim had perfect recall. What his cousin
didn’t notice was that Jim couldn’t remember recent events no matter how
important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">2.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Challenges
in planning or solving problems.</b> Forgetting how to complete tasks that you
once knew is one of the obvious signs. Jim was always mechanically inclined and
could fix just about anything. After dementia affected his reasoning, he tore
apart a vacuum sweeper and couldn’t put it back together. He tore into a VCR
with the same results. The man that planned and built two homes couldn’t figure
out how to measure the well house for siding. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">3.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Difficulty
completing familiar tasks.</b> One day I asked Jim to make a grocery list for
me. He took a pen and paper, and I started telling him what we needed. He wrote
a few items on the paper and then told me he didn’t want to make the list. I
picked it up to finish and noticed that although he had printed letters on the
sheet, some of them didn’t make words. I remember he had written “taper powels”
for “paper towels.”</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">4.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Confusion
with time or place. </b>Jim often asked me what the date was or the day of the
week. Reading a calendar became too difficult for him. One time during a
doctor’s visit, they asked him what season it was, and he didn’t know. He couldn’t
answer the question <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from multiple choice
or clues. He also didn’t know what town he was in, only that he was at a
doctor’s office.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">5.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trouble
understanding visual images and spatial relationships. </b>Jim had always been
a reader, and we visited the bookstore on a regular basis. I began to notice
that he bought several copies of the same book. I finally noticed that at night
when he was reading his book, he wasn’t turning the pages. He couldn’t follow
the storyline of a book or a show on TV . He watched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To Hell and Back</i> so many times that we replaced the VCR movie three
times. He taped (or tried to) every <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Walker
Texas Ranger</i> TV show. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">6.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">New
problems with words in speaking or writing. </b>Jim had aphasia and eventually
quit speaking except for rare occasions. At first, he occasionally printed
something, but after about five years, he could only write his name—and his
signature changed, with some of the letters in cursive and others printed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">7.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Misplacing
things and losing the ability to retrace steps</b>. Jim was constantly looking
for objects, but with his limited speech, he would say, “Right here, but I
can’t find it.” Sometimes I could figure out what he was trying to find, and
other times, I just helped him “look” because I had no idea what he had lost.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">8.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Decreased
or poor judgment. </b>Jim became the telemarketer’s best friend. He didn’t
understand what they were trying to sell and would agree to buy anything. I had
to cancel Dish channels, tickets to charity events, and extended warranties.
Some of the people were easier to work with than others. Since Jim couldn’t
write a check or give a credit card number, they eventually had to deal with me.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">9.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Withdrawal
from work or social activities. </b>Jim had always loved visiting with family,
but as his ability to follow a conversation, or to participate, he would
sometimes just wander away from the group. We had always played pitch, and Jim
went from being a formidable opponent to one who didn’t know which cards to
play. Before he stopped playing completely, his mom sat by him and helped him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">10.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Changes
in mood and personality.</b> Jim’s personality underwent drastic changes. He
liked to tell stories to the kids, he joked around with his cousins, and he was
an expert on many subjects. All that changed. He became more childlike,
sometimes docile, other times frustrated and angry.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
signs of Alzheimer’s or dementia are far beyond the typical age-related changes.
I know that I can sometimes worry when I can’t find the right word, or find my
cell phone, or multitask the way I used to be able to do. I also know that a
recent scan showed “age-related changes” in my brain. My doctor assured me that
it is not Alzheimer’s, but I needed to watch my “numbers” to maintain my brain.
We all know that we need to use it or lose it under the best of circumstances.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Forewarned
is forearmed, and I intend to stave off vascular dementia. Here’s my sign:
“Monitor blood pressure, blood sugar, and weight.” So far, I’m doing fine, and
I intend to keep it that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Copyright © Sept
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-36545496888037108802023-09-22T16:13:00.001-07:002023-09-22T16:13:13.066-07:00Walking Since 1998<p><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSedxqd6z44RpUTAGzScWIpsZ7nOnGKUfbgJJUU7igQqb615wtL5iV0NTMenFvLCPlOsQZOQz_EArtPYzL1iCENwwukPJIp7t5h4IzSaX0UCz-OYYa0d_SZ1Xd-kWGgouQLItpxMweXxwmVC2Y4P1HFfrIEnqo-bql2ebUHWex8NhKnTijnly7PW5uwM/s2048/376870969_784362343698649_7882518509526516610_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSedxqd6z44RpUTAGzScWIpsZ7nOnGKUfbgJJUU7igQqb615wtL5iV0NTMenFvLCPlOsQZOQz_EArtPYzL1iCENwwukPJIp7t5h4IzSaX0UCz-OYYa0d_SZ1Xd-kWGgouQLItpxMweXxwmVC2Y4P1HFfrIEnqo-bql2ebUHWex8NhKnTijnly7PW5uwM/s320/376870969_784362343698649_7882518509526516610_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Last
Saturday we had our Walk to End Alzheimer’s. It takes months of preparation and
planning to have a successful walk. For several years, we’ve had a small core
group. To add to the difficulty, we began the year with a new walk manager, who
we met exactly once. Then, she left.</span><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">Being
without a walk manager isn’t new territory for the Sedalia Walk. The three of
us, WyAnn, Jessica, and I met and decided to set up our committee meeting
schedule for several months. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">Eventually,
the Greater Missouri Chapter found a new walk manager, and Julie turned out to
be a dynamo. Although she had a long drive each time she met with us, she came
to town often. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">Last
year we held our walk in the afternoon during sweltering weather. This year, we
moved it to the morning to avoid the heat. As luck would have it, Saturday was
much cooler anyway. People were wearing jackets, and I took advantage of the
cooler weather to break out my 1998 denim “Memory Walk” shirt.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">My
family arrived and we took a group photo. During the opening ceremony, the MC
announced that Jim’s Team was the best fundraising team. Following the flower
ceremony, I spoke briefly about the 1998 walk and caregiving. I didn’t rehearse
what I was going to say because I wanted it to come from the heart.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">After
the opening ceremony, the walk began. Ginger found a place on one of the golf
carts, the rest of Jim’s Team walked through the balloon arch and stopped for a
photo. After we walked through the covered bridge, I saw a sign that said
“short” route, and I figured that was the route for me. The rest of the team
opted for a longer route.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">As
I walked the short route, I paused to read some of the signs and meandered
along the path, coming to the realization that the short route was beyond my
capabilities. Luckily, a golf cart came up behind me and I gratefully climbed
on board. I had a nice chat with my friend Anna Lee Bail, who coincidentally
happens to be the most photographed person in town. She never misses a
community event. In fact, she had left the walk for a while to participate in
another fund-raiser that was taking place at the same time.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
had to leave soon after the walk, so my sons helped me carry the items from my
sponsor table to the car. “I can unlock it from here,” I said. “I need to tell
a few people goodbye.” They headed to my car in the parking lot, and I made my
rounds and headed toward the car. My sons were standing by the car and it
occurred to me that I hadn’t unlocked the doors.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">As
I clicked the locks, I said, half-jokingly, “Before long, you’re going to have
to change the name of the team to Jim and Linda’s Team.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">For
several years, I’ve noticed that my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. For
about two months, I had bouts of vertigo. One day, I had a series of them and
went to the emergency room. They started with a head and neck scan. The scan
showed that I had some “age related” problems in my brain. I have to agree that
getting old isn’t for sissies.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
important thing with age-related brain changes, according to my physician, is
to watch my numbers: blood pressure, cholesterol, and A1C. Keeping active and
maintaining a healthy lifestyle has always been a goal of mine. My arthritis
has made exercising difficult at times, but I give my dog credit for dragging
me outside on a regular basis despite my whining.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">I’m
giving myself the same pep talk that I would give anyone with health problems:
concentrate on what you <b>can</b> do, not
what you <b>can’t</b> do. A positive
attitude won’t make your problems go away, but they make them seem less
burdensome. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"> I’ve
also discovered that when I’m tired, I need to rest. If I’ve walked as far as I
can, there’s no shame in accepting a ride on a golf cart. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Copyright © Sept
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">#ENDALZ</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-34268816358141608022023-09-02T11:05:00.001-07:002023-09-02T11:05:33.195-07:00Bookmaking, the Legal Way<p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDI2nMt5q9DvAlRNkG8x8MmWkTNVZ7ha4eJ0_krpsw1vY94MwBoQ1tKlJ0FHJGxQpbi8GSDlDsC-s1Zc5Cp-LCs9aumOyH2RU0MAHHjQRm_RuX5BK7xgY8I8Gi2-tfGpHk5MK_JQ57YlMTVbgUIJZm9P-VGvRanOpLzgrr8ZBZ4_eFsM7xq4olpFptbo/s2318/v4%20Front%20Cover%20Music%20for%20the%20Soul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2318" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDI2nMt5q9DvAlRNkG8x8MmWkTNVZ7ha4eJ0_krpsw1vY94MwBoQ1tKlJ0FHJGxQpbi8GSDlDsC-s1Zc5Cp-LCs9aumOyH2RU0MAHHjQRm_RuX5BK7xgY8I8Gi2-tfGpHk5MK_JQ57YlMTVbgUIJZm9P-VGvRanOpLzgrr8ZBZ4_eFsM7xq4olpFptbo/s320/v4%20Front%20Cover%20Music%20for%20the%20Soul.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Mozark
Press has been a sponsor of the Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer’s for more than a
decade. Each year, I make a monetary donation and provide free books at the
walk. The books are a compilation of the previous year’s blog posts.</span></div></span><p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
know it sounds easy to just take what you’ve already written, slap it into a
book, and publish it. I’ve always found it to be more complicated than that. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">One
of the first decisions to make is a title for the book. For the 2023 book, I
had chosen a title midway through the year. Music was so important to Jim and
it’s an important part of my life since I’ve learned to play the ukulele and
joined the family band. With that in mind, I chose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Music for the Soul</i> as the title for this year’s book.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The process for a simple blog book</b>: After
I plug the book into a template, format, and edit it—then I fix the formatting,
and edit again. I write an introduction and the back page matter. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Of
course, every book has to have a cover. Until last year, my husband downloaded
a template based on the exact page count, and used a fancy-smancy program to
design the cover. Often this process took longer than formatting the book
itself. Lately, we have used a free cover layout and modified it to suit our
vision. That also turned out to be a lengthy process as we modified their
cover—sometimes trying to fit that hypothetical square peg into a mythical
round hole.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Once
the cover was finished and the table of contents and pagination were correct, I
uploaded the book to KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing). In a few short minutes, a
digital proof copy was available for review. After about 24 hours, I received a
notification that the digital copy of the book was approved for publication.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Without
fail, I have always found more errors on the printed page than I ever could on
a PC screen. To speed up the process, I ordered a copy from Amazon Prime. I
don’t have to pay shipping and received the book in two days. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
read through the printed copy and marked multiple corrections with red ink and
colorful Post-it page markers. After I finished, I painstakingly made the
corrections and hoped that I didn’t make more mistakes while updating the
manuscript.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">What
I have described are the mechanics of publishing a book. As I read the stories
that I wrote the previous year, sometimes, it was almost as if I was reading
them for the first time. The stories jogged my memory about events, thoughts,
and feelings that were on my mind as various events unfurled. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
creative process of writing and publishing my blog posts is an integral part of
who I am. The blog always brings me full circle. I explore the beginning as I
remember Jim before dementia. I remember the middle when I talk about
caregiving, dementia, and our journey through the decade of loss. In April, I
remember the end when Jim left this world. Then, finally, I talk about picking
up the pieces—and a new beginning.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve heard people say that writing and
publishing a book is like birthing a baby. Sometimes the process is painful,
but the joy makes it all worthwhile. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">My
box of books arrived the last day of August, so I don’t have the angst of
wondering if they will arrive before the September 16 Walk to End Alzheimer’s. I breathe a sigh of
relief to realize that my legal bookmaking is over for a while.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">Copyright © Aug
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-54218942641539550572023-08-30T17:57:00.001-07:002023-08-30T17:57:18.742-07:00If You Go Down<p> </p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhjD14bqkxYgejU3OiGYR6hPpcjs8QLbJ_VICvY3kYhEvkgL5klrI4QxkbjxWvkGv4htDsavwFH1x1Tq4Zr9qqq71Zkk8B0wdAcAYVt8Fo3dBlUHo1-jjEr8pTQp_bHhS3n-fB9ol-J_1_pT573zmvE0CWoE-UXS64FFOcaRv-yWh6FqyPWQ0Ty6pZY2Y/s2000/2023%20Music%20on%20the%20Porch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhjD14bqkxYgejU3OiGYR6hPpcjs8QLbJ_VICvY3kYhEvkgL5klrI4QxkbjxWvkGv4htDsavwFH1x1Tq4Zr9qqq71Zkk8B0wdAcAYVt8Fo3dBlUHo1-jjEr8pTQp_bHhS3n-fB9ol-J_1_pT573zmvE0CWoE-UXS64FFOcaRv-yWh6FqyPWQ0Ty6pZY2Y/s320/2023%20Music%20on%20the%20Porch.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The
last Saturday in August, I participated in the International Play Music on the
Porch Day. This was the first year that I was able to sing on our sun porch. I
was hoping it would be complete by the time the big day rolled around, but the
tile hadn’t been laid and the shiplap wasn’t stained and finished.<p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">This
is the third time I’ve participated in the big day, but for once, I knew
exactly what I wanted to sing. Recently, I discovered Kelsea Ballerini’s “If
You Go Down (I’m Going Down Too)” song and knew it was the one song I was going
to sing on the sun porch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
dragged all my music equipment out to the porch. I carried my ukulele and the
dog trotted along with me. It was a beautiful, cool morning and just as I got
set up, the guy that mows our lawn showed up. As I started recording, the mower
buzzed past the window. Take 1,2, and 3 erased. After several attempts, I made
it through the song without mower interruption.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
song is a humorous take about friendship that knows no bounds. A person is
lucky indeed, if you have a friend who will, without question, have your back!
I don’t know if I’d go to the extremes that the song implies, but I do have a
few special friends and family members that I’d bail out of jail.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
remember one time my sister called me and said she was in jail and wanted to
know if I’d go her bail. I was quickly calculating in my head how much money I
had in the bank.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">“What
did you do?” I asked. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">She
said, “Embezzlement” and then laughed. She was “in jail” for charity and had to
raise a certain dollar amount to do her part. With great relief, I donated.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Although
we may (or may not) have friends that we would stick to through all pitfalls
and disasters, we more often will have to know when a person has gone too far.
At times all we can offer is tough love. We may have to say, “I can’t do that”
when we get that call in the middle of the night, and someone wants you to bail
them out of jail. Several years ago when I was living alone, I received one of
those calls and although I was half asleep, I knew it wasn’t something I could
do.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen heartbroken parents who refuse to
enable their kids when they get lost in the illegal drug world. I had a
conversation with a woman whose son relapsed and was circling the drain. She
refused to help him saying, “He has to hit rock bottom before he will stop
using.”</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">There
are reasons to refuse to let someone drag you down with them. Imagine that
someone is drowning and in their panic, they pull you under, and you both
drown. In that case, if you have a long pole you can let her hang on and drag
her to safety. Or you might throw him a floatation device and let the person
save himself. It does no one any good if you both drown.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
know that as a caregiver, I had to work at not sinking into despair. I had to
hold on tight to my own identity to continue life outside of caregiving.
Friends and family who walked beside me and pulled me forward were the saving
grace that kept me afloat.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Lately,
playing music with the family band has been my lifeline. Relaxing with my
ukulele helps me make it through some exasperating days.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
wasn’t 100% satisfied with how I sang the song, but knowing me, I could have
gone through it twenty times and still would have found something wrong with
it. I took the SD card out of my camera and inserted it into my PC. I used
Movie Maker to finish the video and format it for Facebook. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">In
past years, my video was lost among the thousands of videos posted throughout
the world. This year, was a little different. I started getting comments about
the song. One lady said that it would be a good song for her trio. One of the
Play Music on the Porch administrators said this was her new favorite song, and
asked if I’d post it to the Facebook account so that she could share it. Songs
posted to the community can only be viewed by other members and cannot be
shared. Later in the day, the administrator said she had been singing the song
all day! </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
know the enthusiasm wasn’t for my singing, but for the song. It will probably
take another year for me to find a song for 2024 Play Music on the Porch Day. In
the meantime, the message for my best friends—if you go down, I’m going down
too.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">Copyright © Aug
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">#ENDALZ</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-12672503777763907032023-08-28T17:25:00.003-07:002023-08-28T17:33:23.467-07:00The Lazy, Hazy, Days of Summer<p style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDDp-cw7FHD4pLYYaV4Dcqlmm61eLzAZaQJVphR53xooTRX3Sw6P2AmKRT4ABNSHcozWJBu4u5Cofh07qZkGG9RNWIiX5Hf0QJ2W0Ry_qFQrEmV5KB--7OczKTBtxxdv9RoK7kuB5FN3hQoOP27DBC--7VQr47eMCqgNn2VKswCAmVblbC2Y2vvAPMyY/s1729/Image.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1145" data-original-width="1729" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDDp-cw7FHD4pLYYaV4Dcqlmm61eLzAZaQJVphR53xooTRX3Sw6P2AmKRT4ABNSHcozWJBu4u5Cofh07qZkGG9RNWIiX5Hf0QJ2W0Ry_qFQrEmV5KB--7OczKTBtxxdv9RoK7kuB5FN3hQoOP27DBC--7VQr47eMCqgNn2VKswCAmVblbC2Y2vvAPMyY/s320/Image.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">When I took the dog out last week, we found
thick fog and scorching hot weather. Later in the day the haze was gone, but
the heat and humidity made outside time almost unbearable for me, and I’m not
covered in thick fur like my dog. The heat made me feel lethargic—or one might
say—lazy.</span></div></span><p></p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
could feel myself wilting when I had to take the dog out. At least when we finished outside, we came inside to a cool house with a dehumidifier. It still took time for me to recuperate after a stroll around the yard with a recalcitrant
dog. The dog led and I followed.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">On
those foggy mornings, the heat made my glasses fog over. I sat on a chair in
the shade, and the dog promptly jumped into the chair next to me. As we sat
there panting in the heat, I suddenly felt a cold wind hit me for a few
seconds. I thought maybe I’d left the door open, but it was closed. About the
time I decided I’d imagined the cold wind, I felt it again.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">It
didn’t matter whether it was 6 a.m. or midnight, the air was heavy and
oppressive. I thought about the hot nights when I was a kid and we had only a
box fan to stir the air. Summers may not have been hotter, but when you had no respite from the
heat, it seemed that way.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">When
Jim and I first married, we rented a one-room apartment in Kansas without
air-conditioning. We had one window, a screen door, and a fan for
circulation. It got so hot at night that we wet a beach towel and put it over
us. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Several
years later, we lived in a two-story farmhouse, and the downstairs was
comfortable even in the hottest part of summer. When we bought our land and
moved a mobile home on it, we made it until June without an air-conditioner. It
took us that long to decide that our mobile home was a heat trap in the summer.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Our
favorite way to beat the heat was to go to the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.
August was our favorite time to go because that’s when the weather was
miserable in “Misery” as we often called Missouri. It was always great to put
on a jacket and sit by the campfire.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
recall how vigilant I had to be with Jim during the summer. When he was inside
the house, he sometimes wore his denim jacket to stay warm. In his confusion,
he would try to warm the house up, but instead he would push the thermostat lower.
I finally had to put duct tape over the control to keep him from pushing it as
low as it would go.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">One
day I told Jim we would go to town to eat. After I was ready to go, I grabbed
my purse, but couldn’t find Jim. I finally decided he’d already gone to the
car. That’s where I found him, with all the windows shut tight, wearing his
denim jacket, and sweating profusely. I couldn’t imagine what would have
happened if I’d taken longer to get ready. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">When
the thermometer hits triple digits, it’s hard to stay comfortable without a
fully functioning cooling system. I feel for those who suffer though the hazy,
lazy days of summer without a way to cool down.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
hope we have an autumn this year and don’t go from the summer heat to the
bone-chilling cold when <i>all</i> the winds
are cold. As I bundle up to take the dog out, the summer heat will be only a
fond memory. As for the dog—she prefers the snowy, windy, icy days of winter.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Copyright © Aug
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">#ENDALZ</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-40141872210725581012023-07-31T09:56:00.001-07:002023-07-31T09:56:35.083-07:00Sunrise, Rainbow, and Rain<p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></blockquote><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFc9sKVRGeh5rZsR-46a8mnUTe0N3UiRgJVKhMKCeW-NIzXn0WHi8PmzM7WFDBPcVNlFTG6mKtsm17L18NtZCSVgZ5w0QH8PzbprFhHppV6OX0AzbYY3E5x8KQ0NELuE0MtdmoYlnM_uKXSUWZbjLEHGsTWb4jplNBlayeKFBPiv-gcTCkYv2JAxQSRnE/s2100/Sunrise%20rain%20rainbow%20pic%201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2100" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFc9sKVRGeh5rZsR-46a8mnUTe0N3UiRgJVKhMKCeW-NIzXn0WHi8PmzM7WFDBPcVNlFTG6mKtsm17L18NtZCSVgZ5w0QH8PzbprFhHppV6OX0AzbYY3E5x8KQ0NELuE0MtdmoYlnM_uKXSUWZbjLEHGsTWb4jplNBlayeKFBPiv-gcTCkYv2JAxQSRnE/s320/Sunrise%20rain%20rainbow%20pic%201.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Today
would have been a great day to sleep late, except my body had other ideas.
After a restless night, I woke up hurting from the top of my head to the tips
of my toes. It had been raining outside, so it wasn’t a big surprise that my
arthritis had overruled my meds.</span></div><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
tried re-medicating my knees, but still couldn’t go back to sleep. Finally, I
crawled out of bed and grabbed my walker for a trip to the medicine cabinet for
my arthritis-strength Tylenol. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Since
it was almost six o’clock, I decided to go ahead and brew my coffee. I pushed
the button on the pot. It spewed and sputtered for about twenty seconds and
shut off. After lifting the almost empty carafe, I realized I hadn’t prepared
my pot the night before.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">After
the coffee was brewing, I turned off the security alarm because I’d decided it
would be a good morning to sit on the almost finished sun porch to drink my
coffee. Turning off the alarm signaled the dog to stretch in preparation to
going outside. “Okay, I’ll take you out while the coffee is making,” I told
her.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Being
awake so early made me think of Jim. He was a morning person and liked nothing
better than starting the day drinking coffee and playing his guitar. As the
dementia progressed, he often sang a cowboy song about having a bad day. It was
stuck in his head and he sang it repeatedly. I suppose that somewhere in the
recesses of his mind, he knew his good days were mostly behind him. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">As
soon as I stepped outside, I noticed that it was sprinkling rain. I glanced
over to the East and saw the sun peeking through the clouds. In the West, I
noticed a very faint rainbow and following the arc, the rainbow was brighter in
the South. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
hustled the dog back inside and grabbed my camera. I captured what my eyes had
seen and thought about the wonders of early morning, life giving rain, and the
promise of the rainbow. It made me wish that I took time each day to appreciate
the beauty that surrounds me.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkycFq0XA3UWjOy8QEucpOCfnlxzPqOK_8tmD_rZh3I8-eVm7P87ZOU8VgNPXYfDoXPS94sf1TbGIChuVIMyPOhdHFLpt4-78R6DoXabY0phfIvbJj7IoTuajwFUM2TBsh4SUBl0Ava07n5g9totZY29bsv_XAplOyMOGPCYcXitrScBtX3NItVC4FPuU/s2100/sunrise%20rain%20rainbow%20pic%202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2100" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkycFq0XA3UWjOy8QEucpOCfnlxzPqOK_8tmD_rZh3I8-eVm7P87ZOU8VgNPXYfDoXPS94sf1TbGIChuVIMyPOhdHFLpt4-78R6DoXabY0phfIvbJj7IoTuajwFUM2TBsh4SUBl0Ava07n5g9totZY29bsv_XAplOyMOGPCYcXitrScBtX3NItVC4FPuU/s320/sunrise%20rain%20rainbow%20pic%202.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">As
I sipped my coffee, I could feel the pain leaving my body. I looked out at the
trees, the crops in the field, and at the backyard where the grass is sporting
spots of green among the sun-scorched patches of brown. I heard a lone bird
chirping.</span></div><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">This
is how I had always envisioned retirement would be, and yet this kind of
morning is rare. I suppose it’s my own fault, but it seems that too much of my
day is out of my control. I’m pulled in different directions between chores I
have to do, projects I need to complete, volunteer work, or the things I really
want to do—play my ukulele, read a good book, watch a movie, or spend time with
family.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I’m
such a late night person that it’s hard to drag myself out of bed in the
mornings. It seems that late night is “my time” to relax and reflect. When I go
to bed, I like to read and, hopefully, sleep through the night.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
see more sunsets than sunrises, and that is a disturbing thought. Sunsets represent
endings, and sunrises represent beginnings. The rain today is quenching the
thirst of the earth. The rainbow is a sign of hope and a promise of better
times ahead. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">Copyright © July
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">#ENDALZ</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-55352394928462645582023-07-29T11:40:00.001-07:002023-07-29T11:40:44.312-07:00Try to Remember<p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8AoX2HS2Rh88rni81ounxVVFTJ56mV3anykvpvS7HRvI2u0pffK-wjoPYZWjVOw1Q6MjWjiX1NnwOGkmDH6swaKkvHu9Ib_wmOOp_iYUVxePrQ3rAdrR4kbolGok2X5a09pmLdKp36ocBldnOyju2RBxprSijodUz26WxgImu0vPmMG9iKz2VkMElHI0/s1023/Jim%20and%20Linda%20Aug%201970%20Manhattan.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="988" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8AoX2HS2Rh88rni81ounxVVFTJ56mV3anykvpvS7HRvI2u0pffK-wjoPYZWjVOw1Q6MjWjiX1NnwOGkmDH6swaKkvHu9Ib_wmOOp_iYUVxePrQ3rAdrR4kbolGok2X5a09pmLdKp36ocBldnOyju2RBxprSijodUz26WxgImu0vPmMG9iKz2VkMElHI0/s320/Jim%20and%20Linda%20Aug%201970%20Manhattan.jpg" width="309" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I
was listening to 70’s on 7 in my car while I was on the way to play music at
Cole Camp. A song came on the radio that I didn’t recognize at first. Gladys
Knight sang a song that came up on my display as “Try to Remember.”</div><div><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> During
the intro, she talked about the “Good old days” and my ears perked up. I think
we’re all guilty of remembering the past with feelings of nostalgia and longing
for the good old days. It seems that time was simpler then than now.</span><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">We lived in the country so our summers were spent playing outside. We didn’t have
the distraction of video games, computers, or TV with endless channels.
Sometimes, outside was cooler than the house. We had no air-conditioning so I
read books while lying on the floor in front of the box fan. Summertime was
sweating time. The good old days.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">When
Gladys starts singing, she talks about September memories. September to me was
back to school after the long, hot summer. I liked school and enjoyed spending
time with my friends. Well, that is except for the year that for some reason
the girls I usually spent time with suddenly weren’t talking to me. I never did
find out the reason and when I asked someone about it later, she didn’t
remember it. The upside was that once I wasn’t a part of the “cool kids” I
became better acquainted with the girls that weren’t part of the “in crowd” and
didn’t even care.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">September
also brings back the bittersweet time of when Jim joined the Army. After
Vietnam, PTSD, and Agent Orange, we lived in Manhattan Kansas while he finished
out his three years of service. I didn’t care much for Army life, but still
have sweet memories of us becoming the parents of a baby boy, days spent at
Lake Tuttle, going to the nearby park, and how our house was filled with love,
laughter, and music.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">We
couldn’t foresee the future where the time spent in Vietnam would become a
darkness that would close in on us. Jim’s mental anguish lasted for years until
the brain disease erased some of the painful memories. Unfortunately, it also
erased many of the talents and traits that made Jim, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jim</i>. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I’ve
lived seven decades and that makes for a lot of old days, good and bad. I
believe the best part of the old days was before I was plagued with health
problems. I was extraordinarily healthy in my youth with sick days being few
and far between. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
think the key to remembering the good old days is to remember the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good.</i> One line in the song mentions that
as bad as times are now, these will be the good old days for our children. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Life
is not all roses, but it’s not all thorns either. Turning thoughts to roses is
part of my basic optimism. I prefer to dwell on the pleasant days, time spent
with friends, and forget the angst that I felt when things didn’t go according
to plan. </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
thorns that prick my memories, have long since dulled and turned into lessons
learned. The “could have, should have” mind game usually ends badly. I feel
that the choices I made, whether right, wrong, or ambivalent, have landed me
exactly where I am supposed to be. When it comes to the past, it is what it
was, and although the past cannot be rewritten, it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i> be edited. We can strike through the <s>negative</s> and highlight
the <span style="background: yellow; mso-highlight: yellow;">positive</span>. </p><br /><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">Copyright © July
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span color="windowtext">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">#ENDALZ</p><p></p><p></p><p></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-361262695886252183.post-80588866817349369392023-07-24T18:28:00.001-07:002023-07-24T18:28:27.485-07:00I Love a Parade<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEuuhFRXz0WgoMOqGLkPxXfRaBI3qbYyorDNZ40MuG-wZW9BdLfNGaHTEyF8UYngmlQ8uzEYvuX2imj_Mo2h-F7P4j_Z97-jF0dH7HjdKqHi1uiOzYVCdG2EUhaYusBfmnIe73TkoCQgCZMmspgxHBDLf-5b2MbqUNR-kapMtSdtGcY7U-TnaNZ95p5U/s2100/Linda%20in%20Parade%20Robin%20Balke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1309" data-original-width="2100" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEuuhFRXz0WgoMOqGLkPxXfRaBI3qbYyorDNZ40MuG-wZW9BdLfNGaHTEyF8UYngmlQ8uzEYvuX2imj_Mo2h-F7P4j_Z97-jF0dH7HjdKqHi1uiOzYVCdG2EUhaYusBfmnIe73TkoCQgCZMmspgxHBDLf-5b2MbqUNR-kapMtSdtGcY7U-TnaNZ95p5U/s320/Linda%20in%20Parade%20Robin%20Balke.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
hallmarks of Independence Day are fireworks and parades. Because of the dry
weather, backyard fireworks were in short supply. It was unusual to pass by
fireworks stands and notice they had no customers. Most people opted to the big
displays provided by communities throughout the nation.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our Walk to End Alzheimer’s Committee has
participated in the parade for several years. We toss candy, bracelets, and
T-shirts to the crowds who mostly line the shady side of the street. One of our
corporate sponsors has provided golf carts that we decorate in red, white,
blue, and purple. This year, our walk manager and her family joined us with a
decorated truck. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">After
the puny polka-dot rains we had before the 4<sup>th</sup>, I wouldn’t have been
surprised if it hadn’t rained on our parade. The day of the parade, I carried
my purple polka-dot umbrella so that I had shade from the sun while waiting for
the parade to begin.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">The
parade is a lot of fun. Along the route, we see people of all ages decked out
in their patriotic colors, smiling, waving flags, and enjoying life in these
United States of America. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">As
we ride down Ohio Street, we pass by majestic historic buildings, some of which
have witnessed more than a century of parades. We see the courthouse with its
statues honoring those who fought for our freedom. Although I can’t see them, I
know that we pass close to the bricks alongside the sidewalk in front of the
courthouse honoring veterans—including Jim and my dad.</p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smile and wave at the crowd occasionally
spotting someone that I know. When I’m in a parade, it seems to go by quickly. </p>
<p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">There’s
something about a parade that just makes my heart smile. I love a parade!</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">Copyright © July
2023 by L.S. Fisher</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><a href="http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com</span></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">#ENDALZ</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
Copyright 2018</div>L S Fisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13080084793157616830noreply@blogger.com0