Flowers for Alzheimer’s: Unlock the Mystery

In their quest for the key to unlock the mystery of Alzheimer’s, researchers are taking a closer look at tau. The hallmarks of Alzheimer’s are plaques of the protein beta amyloid and tangles of the protein tau.

Just exactly what causes the plaques and tangles are somewhat of a mystery, as is their exact role in the disease. Most research has been on ways to eliminate plaques, but a study at Columbia University Medical Center, New York, delved into how tau tangles spread in the brain.

Of course, this study was not done on humans—it was based on tau introduced into the frontal lobes of mice. The valuable insight from this study is that tau appears to spread like a virus, or cancer, jumping from neuron to neuron, across synapses, and spreading to other parts of the brain.

This discovery is a clue. According to Dr. Scott A. Small, co-author of the article published in  PLoS One, this discovery indicates that in the future early detection and treatment could be used to stop the spread of tau in the human brain. Small said, “It is during this early stage that the disease will be most amenable to treatment. That is the exciting clinical promise down the road.”

Another article published in the February issue of Science Express also compares the spread of Alzheimer’s disease to cancer. In fact, this is a study of how the cancer drug bexarotene has cleared the beta amyloid protein (plaques) from test animals by increasing ApoE. Cognitive function in the mouse models improved.

This is an already developed and tested drug so the process of determining what dose levels would be effective in humans to treat Alzheimer’s may move somewhat faster. The study has a cautionary note for caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s to not ask doctors to prescribe bexarotene for Alzheimer’s. This is an unapproved use of the drug.

I’m not sure why, but for some reason as I reviewed these two articles, I was reminded of a book I read when I was a teenager called Flowers for Algernon. Maybe it was all the talk about experiments on laboratory mice and the way success may not necessarily translate to humans. In Daniel Keye’s book, the story is a series of journal entries written by Charlie, a man with an IQ of 68, who has the same experimental surgery that improved the intelligence of the laboratory mouse, Algernon. After the surgery, Charlie’s IQ skyrockets to genius level. The surgery on Charlie and Algernon has the complete appearance of success—that is until Algernon begins to decline mentally and dies. Charlie’s decline is as sure as Algernon’s, but he requests flowers be placed on Algernon’s grave.

Just like in Algernon, success in mice doesn’t necessarily mean success in humans, but it is a start. By attacking the hallmarks of Alzheimer’s, these two scientific studies show new approaches to stopping Alzheimer’s in its tracks. Science moves slowly and it will be many more years before this discovery will translate to an effective treatment for the 5.4 million Americans with Alzheimer’s. 

The goal set during review of the National Alzheimer's Plan is to prevent and effectively treat Alzheimer’s disease by 2025. Although thirteen years seems like a long time, it would be worth the wait if we can place flowers on the grave of Alzheimer’s—not on the graves of those who die from the disease.

Copyright © February 2012 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Family Circle: A Funeral and a Birthday Party

My Mom on Her 85th Birthday

A family is a circle of love that surrounds your heart. If you are from a large family, you may not see some of your relatives for years at a time. Unfortunately, it seems like funerals are the prime place to see cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters.

I’ve had two chances to connect with family members in the past week. As tradition would have it, the first family get-together was a funeral. Aunt Mable was Jim’s aunt, and when I called her “Mable” she corrected me. “I’m Aunt Mable,” she said in her gruff tone. I never made that mistake again. After spending more time with Aunt Mable, I realized she played an important role in many lives. In addition to her own large family, she opened her heart and home to nieces and nephews who needed a surrogate mom.

Aunt Mable developed Alzheimer’s during her last years. It was heartbreaking for her children to visit her knowing that some days she would not recognize them.

Her funeral was a lovely celebration of her life, and Aunt Mable would have been pleased to see the hugs shared between family members that had been separated for too long. I had planned to attend the visitation and not stay for the services, but when I sat next to Uncle Jewell and Aunt Mary, I just couldn’t leave. Seeing them brought back memories of many fun weekends together. We went on fishing trips, to bluegrass festivals, or sometimes we had big jam sessions at our house.

I remember one time we went to the Truman Dam Visitors’ Center. Uncle Jewell was clowning around so much that people began to follow him around mistaking him for a paid entertainer.

My Mom, Lula Capps, Playing Music

Funerals are a bittersweet connection with family, but birthday parties are much more upbeat. Saturday, we celebrated my mom’s 85^th birthday at an intimate gathering of more than a hundred relatives and close friends.

The party took place at the Ambush, once a favorite honky-tonk in Morgan County. It is past its heyday, but judging from the cars and people crowding into the restaurant and bar, it made a one-night comeback.

With a family the size of ours, not everyone was able to make it. As I looked at my sons and their families, I couldn’t help but compare my childhood to theirs. I’m not even sure how many first cousins I have, but my oldest grandkids have only two first cousins, and my youngest grandkids only three.

During my growing up years, my cousins were my playmates and best friends. We collectively share memories of playing endless games at grandma and grandpa’s house on lazy summer Saturdays. During the evening hours, we chased fireflies while mom and my uncles played guitars and sang country or gospel songs.

At the party, my brother, Jimmy, and a friend took the stage to play music. My mom, true to her normal age-defying behavior, joined my brother for a while to play her guitar and sing with him. Later, two of my Fisher family nephews and their group played. In my mind’s eye, I could see Jim smiling to see his family tradition carried on by a younger generation.

As the evening wore down, my brother announced that they were going to sing one last song. After a variety of country, southern rock, and beer-drinking music, they closed with a gospel song. Voices blended as family members, young and old, sang the praiseful words of “How Great Thou Art.”

As we hugged our farewells, we remained optimistic that our next family gathering would be a happy occasion and goodbye, a temporary break in the family circle.

Copyright February 2012 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Inspired By a Coincidence

Today I was cleaning out a file that I had forgotten existed. It was simply marked “Alzheimer’s” which covers a lot of territory. This particular file contained an assortment of national and chapter newsletters, various newspaper clippings, brochures, notes and letters from Mid-Missouri staff, and miscellaneous odds, ends, and memorabilia. The file had been untouched for the past five years.

It was a letter I had written to our family physician that transported me back in time. I had no recollection of writing the letter and read it with fresh eyes.

The letter began with “I have made arrangements with…Guest Home to provide daycare for Jim two days a week beginning in February. For some time I have not wanted to leave Jim by himself during the day while I work. His mother has been keeping an eye on him and preparing his meals for him. Jim no longer has a driver’s license and cannot dial a telephone. It is really hard to know what he will be able to do from day to day as his dementia progresses.”

To this point, I’m wondering why I wrote his doctor this letter.

“If I can get him to cooperate, daycare will be good for him. He doesn’t really do anything during the day besides watch TV. I think the stimulation of being around other people would be good for Jim. I also worry about his mom being so tied down with him and not being able to do a lot of things she likes to do. I also need a backup plan in case his mom would be unable to watch him. I am hoping that daycare will provide us with enough relief that we can keep Jim at home as long as possible.”

As I read on, the purpose of the letter came to light.

“I think if you suggest that he go somewhere during the day to get out of the house and be around other people, he will do it. I don’t know if I will be able to convince him that it would be for his own benefit, but I think he will listen to you.”

With the doctor’s help, we convinced Jim to give eldercare a try. The place I chose was on my way to work and I could just drop him off. After the first day, he didn’t want to go back. I remember pleading with him to go and he balked, but eventually I loaded him into the van. I felt much like a parent dropping off a child at the babysitters. Jim took his guitar with him and spent the day in an out-of-the-way spot playing the same song over and over. He didn’t socialize with anyone or participate in any of the bingo or card games the elderly residents played. 

After a few short weeks at daycare, the Guest Home called me and told me they were terminating his care. It seems he picked up his guitar and walked out the door. He had made it to the highway before a staff member missed him and went after him. They just couldn’t be responsible for someone who wandered off.

I had already decided that the daycare arrangement wasn’t working for Jim or me. He was stubbornly insisting he didn’t want to go “today” every time I tried to take him. It just wasn’t working out the way I had envisioned.

The next step was in-home care. That presented a new set of problems due to a high turnover with the service and the last minute calls with excuses why the designated caregiver couldn’t come that particular day. Some days no one showed up and the service didn’t know why. It seemed that they never had a substitute available.

A little over a year after I wrote the letter, I placed Jim in long-term care. We had run out of options, and he needed twenty-four hour supervision.

The letter brought back a rush of emotions. For a few short minutes, I relived the depression, frustration, and responsibility of being a primary caregiver searching for solutions to an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of problems.

I put the letter away with the other memories in the file folder that I couldn’t toss into the trash. As I replaced the letter I noticed the date at the top: January 18, 1999. The letter was written thirteen years ago today. It seems more like another lifetime, another me.

Copyright © January 2012 L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Focus on the Positive: Notice the Red Cars

I started the New Year out right by attending a Jennifer Yazell presentation. Jennifer, CEO of Golden Egg Communication, is a dynamic speaker capable of motivating a die-hard pessimist.

Jennifer teaches that you get more of whatever you focus on. It is logical that if you focus on the positive, you become more motivated.

One of the tools she used to drive home the point was a film clip called “Red Cars.” As the driver of a red Chevy Malibu, I understood this video perfectly. When I bought a red car, I began to notice other red cars. Every time I drove into a Walmart parking lot, it seemed like everyone was driving a red car. Sometimes I had to push my horn-honking button to figure out which red car was mine.

One day I walked out of Walmart carrying a bag of groceries and pushed the unlock button as I approached my red car. I opened the door and started to put my groceries in the back seat, but a vacuum sweeper was in my way. I immediately realized that either the vacuum fairy had visited my vehicle, or I was trying to put my groceries in the wrong red Malibu. Apparently, I was a little too focused on red cars in general and not my car in particular.

Of course, red cars aren’t the most important focus in my life. I firmly believe focusing on the positive gave me inner peace that became my lifeline when Jim developed dementia.

Some chunks of time are so challenging that even Polly Anna would pop anti-depressants. If your loved one has Alzheimer’s, you may wake up each morning with the sense that something is out of balance and dread facing the day. Alzheimer’s is most assuredly a depressing and sad disease over which you have no control. Either your doctor tells you the prognosis or a few Google searches later, you learn the eventual outcome.

Alzheimer’s takes years or even decades to run its course. It’s hard to retain optimism, but if you become overwhelmed by the negative implications of an Alzheimer’s prognosis, the disease has claimed two victims.

When the doctor diagnosed Jim with dementia of the Alzheimer’s type, it was the most crushing moment in our lives. Once we got past the initial shock, we survived on denial for a while. Eventually, we recognized that the disease was progressively taking over our lives.

As we adjusted to our new reality, the darkness lifted. We began to focus on activities we could still enjoy together and not on the disease. Because of that change in focus, we made the most of the reprieve given to us during the early stages.

I won’t try to convince you that suddenly everything was okay. Dementia is a series of losses and the grieving process is ongoing. The key to survival is to focus on the positive, and find ways to take control of your attitude.

The diagnosis was a turning point in our lives, but it wasn’t all negative. Before Jim was diagnosed, my life consisted of getting up in the mornings, going to work, coming home at night preparing dinner, watching TV or reading a book, going to bed and start all over the next day.

After the diagnosis, I contacted the Alzheimer’s Association. Before I knew it, I joined a support group, coordinated the Memory Walk in our town, became a local and national Alzheimer’s advocate, and gave presentations to civic groups.

My circle of friends grew exponentially. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, volunteering became my “red car.” By focusing on others, I received the gifts of friendship and purpose.

I’m not saying I wake up each day and jump out of bed with enthusiasm. Sometimes I can be a grump until I’ve had my morning coffee. I do normally wake up with a mental list of events, activities, or potential accomplishments for the day. In fact, often my To-Do list cannot be completed in one day, one week, or one month. That doesn’t discourage me. After all, it is a New Year and I predict that every item I focus on will be finished before the end of the year.

Copyright © January 2012, L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com 

When a Holiday Heart Isn’t a Good Thing

During the holidays, news abounds about those generous people who have holiday hearts and give away donations to complete strangers. Secret Santas pop up all over the place, and we hear heartwarming stories about them giving away $100 bills.

I witnessed a Secret Santa type of moment at Cracker Barrel a few weeks ago. An elderly gentleman tried to pay for his dinner and the waitress said, “You don’t owe anything.”

“What?” he said. “Where’s my bill?”

“It’s already paid,” she said loudly as she leaned closer so he could hear. “The couple sitting at that table,” she pointed to show him, “paid for your meal. They are already gone.”

The elderly man seemed a little puzzled, but he sat and leisurely drank another cup of coffee. I thought he might have taken the extra time to assure himself that he really didn’t owe anything. The couple that paid for his meals had holiday hearts—the good kind.

I would like to alert caregivers to a different type of holiday heart that physicians nationwide are talking about on television. It seems that a combination of overeating, the stress of the holidays, and partying can create havoc with your heart.

People who don’t normally drink tend to overindulge during the holidays. My son refers to New Year’s Eve as “amateur night” in reference to people who don’t know their alcohol consumption limit.

After the chaos of planning and pulling off a holiday party, it may seem like the perfect way to relax and enjoy. For some, the consequences can be frightening and life threatening.

The symptoms of holiday heart syndrome:

• You feel lightheaded and dizzy.
• You are short of breath.
• Your heart beats faster than normal and you have an irregular heartbeat.

If you experience these symptoms, cardiac specialists recommend that you stop drinking alcohol and drink cold water to rehydrate yourself. Coughing also helps to reset the heart’s rhythm.

If these symptoms don’t go away within ten to fifteen minutes, it is time to call 911. You may think this seems overdramatic for a little drinking and overeating, but the holidays are primetime for a heart attack. Five percent more people die from heart-related deaths during the holidays especially on Christmas Day, the day after Christmas, and New Year’s Day.

Drinking is not the only problem. Overeating causes its own set of heart threatening risk factors for those who may have underlying heart disease. An increase in fat and sodium can put a strain on the heart that can lead to a heart attack.

Moderation in food and drink will keep your holidays merrier, not to mention healthier. It will also make that New Year’s resolution to lose weight more attainable if you don’t gain that extra five or ten pounds during the holiday season.

Here’s a non-alcoholic toast that your holiday heart is healthy and filled with joy and generosity.

Copyright © L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Why Is the Sky Blue?

My mom and I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and I had just finished relating the strangest of many dreams I had the night before. My granddaughter sat in a chair between us reading a book.

“I wonder why I have such strange dreams,” I said.

“I can tell you, Grandma Linda,” my granddaughter said. She flipped the pages of the Why? book she was reading and proceeded to answer my question. “Scientists think that you dream as your brain tries to make sense of all the things you’ve done and felt during the day.”

“Sounds right to me,” I said. “I do and feel a lot each day and half the time I can’t make sense of it.”

The Why? book has been around my house for years and has passed down from grandchild to grandchild. It answers a lot of the “why” questions that kids ask and adults can’t answer.

The book even answers the question my oldest grandson asked me many years ago. I picked him up from the babysitters and from the backseat he asked, “Grandma Linda, why is the sky blue?” I was stumped for an answer.

That was before I bought the Why? book. It has Bathtime Questions, Supermarket Questions, Nighttime Questions, Kitchen Questions, Farm Animal Questions, and Outdoor Questions, including “Why is the sky blue?”

The book doesn’t have any Health Questions, and doesn’t answer why a person develops Alzheimer’s or a related dementia. I guess you can’t expect a children’s book to answer questions that dedicated researchers cannot answer.

Sure, in some cases, early onset Alzheimer’s can be attributed to a genetic cause. Later onset Alzheimer’s is usually blamed on a risk factor such as age.

I guess the biggest “why” question that plagues me is why did Jim develop dementia at forty-nine? Why was his life cut short by a disease so rare that I had never heard of it until the neurologist read the autopsy report? The answers to these questions stump me more that my grandson’s question about the color of the sky.

Our lives were on track headed in the right direction until dementia derailed the train. We had made it through the hard times and were looking forward to traveling, spending time with family, spoiling our grandkids, and sitting on the front porch drinking coffee.

The house was filled with noise and laughter once again when our family was here for the annual Christmas get-together. I was reminiscing about how rarely this happens now, but we used to have a full house on a regular basis. I never knew when Jim would come home and say he was having a jam session, and oh-by-the-way they’ll all be eating dinner with us. Times were certainly different then.

Life changes. People pass though my life, and I lose touch with beloved family and friends. Years can pass without seeing people I once saw on a daily basis. New friends enter my life to renew hope and soothe my spirit. I am fortunate, indeed, to be a member of a loving and supportive family. 

Through it all, I sometimes wonder why life turns out the way it does, and how certain events fit into the master plan. When I look at my sons and grandchildren, I know that flight to Hawaii exactly forty-two years ago to marry Jim was part of my life's master plan.

The “why” questions of life may have more than one correct answer. The sky may be blue because clear light is made up of all the colors of the rainbow and the blue light waves that bounce back are the ones you see.  Or, the answer might be the one I gave my grandson to the question he asked just as I drove past Hopewell Church. “I’m sure there’s a scientific reason, but I don’t remember what it is. Maybe it is blue because God made it that way.”

Some of the “why” questions of life cannot be found in any book and can only be answered through divine inspiration.

Copyright © December 2011

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Tis the Season to be Joyful—or Stressed

Holiday Lights in Branson

We all hold tightly to traditions that lift our spirits. Some holidays are so special they create golden glows in our memories. It may be challenging to remain joyful about the holidays if you are a primary caregiver for a loved one with dementia.

Much of the season may be spent running interference between your loved one and relatives, friends, or neighbors that just don’t get it. You may need to make adjustments to protect your loved one and your sanity. With careful planning, even these difficult times may seem like small miracles on your own street.

After spending ten holiday seasons as a primary caregiver, I had time to learn how to survive the holidays. I would like to share a few tips I learned—mostly from trial and error.

• Keep it Simple. Less is better in all things holiday. Just because you have a thousand points of light, don’t string them everywhere. Avoid going overboard with decorations, food, and celebrations.
• Don’t Shop Till You Drop. Slash your gift list to immediate family. Consider the advantages of shopping online or purchasing gift cards. If you enjoy shopping, find someone to stay with your loved one and plan a weekend away. Shop. Relax. Shop. Relax. Repeat the relaxing as often as necessary.
•  Strive for Peace and Joy. Go back to the basics and the reason for the season. Read inspiring holiday stories. You can enjoy a tin of popcorn and watch a movie on TV. If your loved one can’t make it to the grandchildren’s holiday program, have mom or dad record it and watch it at home.
• Jingle Bells. Enjoy traditional Christmas music with your loved one. You may love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, but your loved one will more likely enjoy “White Christmas” or even “Frosty the Snowman.” Music can trigger happy memories.
• Keep Traditions You Love. Only you know which traditions you keep because you enjoy them. If you spend hours baking or making candy just because everyone expects you to do it—stop!
• Allow More Time. When you are a caregiver, it just takes more time to get things done. You will want to avoid getting frazzled and cranky because you ran out of time. Plan ahead and let your loved one with dementia help you. How about letting her slather icing on sugar cookies? Does it really matter if they are perfect? Maybe he would like to stick bows or nametags on packages for the grandkids.
• Give the Gift of Love. If you are so stressed out trying to make the holidays perfect for everyone, you forget the most important thing. Slow down, take a deep breath, laugh and find happiness in the moment. Remember the greatest gift of all is love.

In the early stages, I would drive Jim around town to look at the holiday lights. In the late stages, Jim would spend hours looking at the little fiber optic tree I put in his room at the nursing home. Feeding him on Christmas day is, believe it or not, a memory I cherish. I remember holding his hand while we watched the little tree whirl round and round and listened to the same Christmas songs we sang in elementary school.  Even the most poignant times have turn into precious memories.

Copyright Dec 2011 L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Hard to Swallow

Don’t you just hate it when you go to the doctor and he tells your problem is because you are getting old? Well, he most likely will use a euphemism like, “As we get older…” and then fill in the blank with whatever has gone wrong now.

The health issue that took me to the doctor a few weeks ago—just at the end of the year when I had not used one penny of my high deductible insurance—was a problem with swallowing. For quite some time, I had noticed that my food felt like it was caught in my esophagus, but I was doing a great job of convincing myself that it was only a minor problem until a bite of bagel hurt so much going down that it brought tears to my eyes.

I knew this was not going to be an easy or cheap fix. We went down this road with Jim when he developed problems swallowing because of his dementia. It was something we struggled with throughout his disease. In the later stages, Jim was put on mechanically softened foods and then eventually on pureed food. I think by that time, it distressed me more than it did him. I hated that he couldn’t eat the things that he had always loved.

So, I knew a little bit about swallowing problems, not my own, but Jim’s. After contemplating the situation, I just felt like this wasn’t a problem that was going away on its own.

I had barely walked into the doctor’s office when they told me step on the scales. After seeing those numbers, it reminded me that I need a new battery for my scales so I can keep a closer eye on the pounds I’m packing on. After my blood pressure check, the doctor listened to lungs and my latest complaint.

He explained how “when we get older” the esophagus narrows, which makes it hard to swallow food and move it to the stomach where it belongs. It’s a fairly easy fix. After explaining that they just stretched the esophagus, my family doctor ordered an endoscopy.

Between my other commitments and vacation, the doctor that was to perform the scope and I couldn’t easily find a date that worked for both of us. Three weeks passed before the day our schedules meshed. The endoscopy didn’t require any prep, just lay off the food and drink after midnight. I would sleep through the whole procedure or at least be so loopy that I just wouldn’t care.

The procedure took about seven minutes—everything else took about two hours. I could hear them talking while they worked and I heard the word “ulcers,” and something about biopsies, another scope, and then things got a little fuzzy.

Later, I learned that I had ulcers in my esophagus, and a hiatal hernia. I still haven’t had my follow-up appointment with my family doctor, but I’m trying to eat things that go down easy. In the meantime, I’m trying to follow a recommended diet that says you should eat enough food to get nutrition, but not a lot at one time. It has lists of what to eat (oatmeal, applesauce, yogurt, fish, chicken, etc. along with low-fat everything) and what to avoid (cabbage, broccoli, corn, tomatoes and tomato products—and worse yet chocolate and caffeine).

I’m working on changing some of my eating habits, but I can’t bring myself to cancel my morning coffee and pray the doctor doesn’t tell me to quit chocolate. I’ve decided not to panic until I hear the details tomorrow about the doctor recommended diet. Hopefully, it won’t be as strict as the one I found on the Internet and won’t last forever.

Copyright © Dec 2011 L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Nontraditional Holidays

The best holidays are a marriage of tradition and new tradition. A traditional holiday can cause unnecessary grief and stress when a loved one has dementia. The family get-together that used to the highlight of the year can become the most depressing day of the year.

Our holidays were always split between Jim’s family and mine. Thanksgiving was the time my family gathered at the old home place for turkey, dressing, gravy, pumpkin pie, and all the side dishes and trimmings. After dinner, the kids (big and small) would go outside to mill around and maybe play a game of touch football. One year, Jim videotaped the game. Ever the showoff with his video skills, he brought it inside and played it on my mom and dad’s TV. We were all laughing at the game until my dad yelled, “Oh, my god! That’s my new tree,” when a couple of kids scuffled over the ball taking the spindly sapling to the ground.

The old home place groaned when filled with eight of us “kids” and our families, Mom and Dad, and the invitees that didn’t have a family dinner of their own. We felt sorry for those folks and thought that with the size of our family, it would never happen to us. Even the most distant cousin was a welcome guest at our traditional dinner

.

The first time I went to the dinner alone was when the reality set in that Thanksgiving dinner would never be the same. Jim was in the nursing home, and I knew the more than hour drive and crowd of rowdy family would no longer be a pleasant experience for him. It was a long lonely drive but once I arrived, the family time was worth the change in tradition

.

Eventually, my family decided to rotate homes for the annual get-together and changed the time to September. We were on our own for Thanksgiving for the first time in decades. After my mother-in-law passed, my other home for the holidays was gone. My kids, in the meantime, had both developed their own traditions.

The past few years, I’ve enjoyed a traditional thanksgiving with my friend who was on his own after his mom passed away. The holiday has been different, but with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, some of it seemed the same. It was still Turkey Day—for days on end. More like Turkey Week. How much turkey can two people eat?

Isn’t it time for a new tradition? You bet. This year we are grilling steak. Sometimes, a nontraditional holiday can take on a life of its own and possibly become a new tradition. We can enjoy the meal without the aftermath of enough food to feed an army. Cleanup will be easy and we will have more time to be thankful for all the blessings life has brought our way.

A little non-tradition may be the pumpkin pie spice of life you need to bring joy back into your holidays. Maybe a little less reflection on what used to be and more hopeful thought to new possibilities. I hope you find peace and happiness during the holidays regardless of how you celebrate.

 

Copyright © November 2011 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

  

Time Management

I’ve attended a couple of great seminars lately on time management. Both presenters touted organization as a key to save search time and increase leisure time. Well, organization does help, I suppose. It really irks me to have to figure out where I put something so that it will be “easy to find” when I need it.

One of Jim’s favorite sayings was “Right here, but I can’t find it.” Sometimes he referred to not being able to find the correct words to say what he meant, or he could be looking for an object. I helped him look for a lot of items even when he wasn’t able to tell me exactly what he wanted to find.

In my job, I have a spacious office, but I have to handle a vast amount of paper. My two file cabinets are jam-packed and with several different projects going at the same time, I have stacks of paper. Most of the time, if I’m looking for a particular piece of paper, I know which stack to search. I’m starting to think that when I go home at night, my papers play musical stacks. When searching for a particularly slippery piece of paper, I might feel like it’s right here, but I can’t find it.

Another time management tool I learned lately was to organize a To-Do list by priority. If something has to be done that day, you place an “A” next to it. A task that doesn’t have an urgent deadline, but must be done soon, is put on the “B” list. Anything else is put on a different list that you check from time to time when you catch up on your “A” and “B” lists, or if you are just totally freaked, and need something less stressful to do.

I’ve always been a believer in a To-Do list, especially if I can find time to list the things I need to do. Lately, I’ve graduated to a To-Do book for my personal life. I’m not joking about that either. I have a small, but thick, notebook that with the words “To-Do” marked boldly on the outside. Now, if I’d only remember to look at it every day. Should I put that reminder on the To-Do list?

One of the suggestions I came away with from the last seminar is to take a few minutes of quiet time at the end of the day and list the “A” and “B” tasks for the next day. Some days this works well and I leave work confident that I’m in control of my own work destiny. Other times, total chaos rules and, just like yesterday, I’m frantically pushing against a deadline—everything goes wrong, and at the end of the day I’m  trying to finish up just one or two more important “A” items that I didn’t have time to list.

With today a holiday and Monday my day off, my Tuesday “A” list consists of two folders and three pieces of paper in the middle of my desk weighted down with a stapler. Actually, that might be my “A+” list since I have to be prepared for the monthly board meeting by nine o’clock.

With my involvement in three organizations, writing, publishing, and a day job, my goal is to squeeze in some recreational time and, more importantly, family time. While my head is spinning with all that I have to do, I am shocked that my grandson is graduating from high school and filling out scholarship applications. Where has the time gone? It seems like only yesterday that his Grandpa Jim sang cowboy songs to him while I held him on my lap.

I  realize now that I don’t manage time; time manages me.

Copyright © November 2011 L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com