Alzheimer's Speaker at Senior Center, Warsaw, MO

Linda Fisher, Sedalia, MO, author and speaker, will present a one-hour program on Caregiver Emotions, 10:00 a.m., June 12, at the Senior Center at Harbor Village, Warsaw. The presentation focuses on Alzheimer’s caregivers, but caregivers for other diseases are encouraged to attend.

“Being a caregiver for a loved one is on-the-job training for a job you never wanted,” Fisher said. “Caregiving is an emotional rollercoaster. Before you tackle caregiving, it is essential to  take care of your own emotional wellbeing.”

Fisher became an Alzheimer’s Association volunteer when her husband developed dementia at forty-nine years old. She is an award-winning author and blogger who has published six books of essays from her early-onset Alzheimer’s blog at http://earlyonset.blogspot.com. She is an Alzheimer’s advocate and serves on the Alzheimer’s Association Greater Missouri Chapter Board of Directors.

The presentation is free and open to the public. Reservations are not required, but RSVP’s are appreciated. For more information contact Charlene, Senior Center, at 660-438-3569.

Moving On

Life is always moving forward, and I participated in two different types of promotions this week. One promotion was my grandson from kindergarten to first grade complete with cap and gown. The children performed delightful programs, but not all entertainment was during the performances. My grandson decided his hat was more comfortable twisted sideways and that was how he wore it most of the evening. The boy sitting next to him had his tassel swinging between his eyes.

We ended the evening with cakes, cupcakes and punch. One cake said, “Goodbye Kindergarten” and the other, “Hello First Grade.”  I’m sure time will fly by between now and the day this group of youngsters will walk the stage again to receive high school diplomas. It might be interesting to compare their behavior at that graduation with this one.

  

The other “moving on” event this week involved a promotion from the world of work to retirement. Staff, board members, and former board members surprised Linda Newkirk, executive director of the Alzheimer’s Association Greater Missouri Chapter, with a retirement reception.

It was good to see some of the former board members I had lost contact with over the years. Some of the Board members at the reception were those I had served with the first time. After a self-introduction, each person told of his or her connection with the disease, the chapter, with Linda, and more importantly—the mission.

We were a roomful of people who understood the heartbreak and challenges of Alzheimer’s. Like many of us, Linda’s first connection with the Alzheimer’s Association was because of a loved one with dementia. She found the information, support, and resources she needed.

Later, Linda was offered a job with the Chapter and eventually was promoted to executive director. Her positive, capable leadership helped our chapter flourish. She isn’t one to seek the limelight and was a little uncomfortable with being the center of attention in a roomful of people who wanted to honor her and her accomplishments.

I served on the Chapter board for six years, was off six years, and returned in 2012. Because of my hiatus from the board, I wasn’t on the board when they hired Linda as the executive director. I really got to know her better when I approached her with the idea of the Alzheimer’s anthology. She immediately supported the idea—which was amazing considering I had no experience in publishing a book. I just had a big idea, and she became one of my staunch supporters.   

We will miss Linda’s leadership. She guided us through the transition becoming a national chapter. When two Missouri chapters consolidated into the Greater Missouri Chapter, Linda stepped up as the executive director for a much larger area. Linda’s main focus has been to ensure the Chapter succeeds in its mission to provide excellent service to folks coping with Alzheimer’s disease.

The board members dished out a lot of good natured teasing about Linda chairing the Columbia walk. Oddly enough, that didn’t seem to be on her retirement agenda. Linda is saying “Goodbye Work World” and “Hello Retirement.” She is moving on and we just need to step out of her way.

copyright © June 2014 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Memorial Day Traditions

My earliest memory of Memorial Day was going to the cemetery to place flowers on graves. It always made me feel just a little bit weird to realize that in the ground beneath my feet lay all that remained of a human body. Since I didn’t have x-ray vision, I imagined that mummified bodies lay in air-tight coffins. When we visited the old cemeteries where some of the graves were sunken, I carefully avoided those areas fearful that I might fall through.

I always noticed the American flags, but most of the graves we visited were family and not necessarily military. Sometimes we would run into other family members who were placing plastic floral arrangements on graves. Then, it was a time to enjoy seeing the living.

It seems it was usually hot, and shade is hard to come by in most cemeteries. Often a table is set up where you could make donations for the upkeep. Nobody likes to see overgrown brushy cemeteries. The old cemetery where my great-grandparents are buried is usually cleared by family members. I saw some people on Facebook planning a time to work on it since it wasn’t done this year.

Most people celebrate life on Memorial Weekend with picnics. The red, white, and blue is the only thing that says Memorial Day more than grilled hotdogs and hamburgers.

For the last nine years I have visited the Missouri Veterans Cemetery in Higginsville for their Memorial Day Services. Although several artificial arrangements will be placed on graves, the cemetery rules call for cut flowers. Flowers are usually easy to find, but  it is a challenge to find a plastic (unbreakable) vase to put them in. This year, I lucked out. I bought a dozen roses and found a clear plastic container. I decorated it with patriotic duck tape and with some red ribbon. I always like to put Jim’s name on the arrangement I take, but this year it suddenly occurred to me to put his picture too. I printed out a shipping label, covered it with clear packing tape. I was pleased with the results.

This year, my sister-in-law Ginger and my great-niece made the trip with me. We stopped at McDonald’s and arrived at the cemetery a mere twenty minutes before the scheduled start time. We were directed to park near the new columbarium. We followed the sidewalk, crossed the bridge, and made it to the original columbarium just in time for the services to begin. The special guest speaker, Senator David Pearce, talked about how families had put special inscriptions on the stones. He began to read a few of them and one was “Rest High on That Mountain”—Jim’s stone.

Mayor Bill Kolas, Higginsville, spoke about how the traditions of Memorial Day has changed. Memorial Day used to be the signal that it was okay to wear white shoes. Of course, in today’s world, we wear white shoes when we feel like it. Instead of being “Decoration Day” to honor the fallen, for some people it’s all about picnics and sports. He talked about how school children no longer learn the history of World War I, or World War II—how they’ve never learned about Pearl Harbor, Normandy, Iwo Jima, Okinawa—because text book companies have left them out. This lack of history, he said, included governments. When President Charles DeGaulle demanded that all U.S. troops be evacuated off French soil, President Johnson directed Secretary of State Rusk to ask if that included the American soldiers buried there.

I was able to walk along the side and placed the roses in front of Jim’s niche during the ceremony. I stood beneath the shade of my umbrella for the remainder of the program. When the speakers were finished, the rifle volley and “Taps” reminded us more than words of the veteran’s sacrifices for the good of the country, for our freedom.

It was a lovely service in a beautiful cemetery that honors our Missouri Veterans. Flags from the branches of service, the POW flag, the Missouri State Flag, and Old Glory flapped in the breeze, keeping watch over the veterans.  As the crowd began to clear, peace blanketed the cemetery.

copyright © by L.S. Fisher, May 2014

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com    

There's an App for That

It seems that no matter what you want to do, someone will remind you, “There’s an app for that,” and sure enough there is. Often it is things you don’t even think about. “How did you tie that scarf?” There’s an app for that. Apple owns the trademark for the slogan, but it now pops up in everyday language.

It has become a running joke that apps can make the difficult easy. They provide quick, simple solutions. We now have an “app generation” that knows they can click on an icon and have the knowhow that used to be passed from generation to generation. They take for granted having the world at their fingertips, a world that we couldn’t even imagine when we were kids.

As personal electronic devices become easier and more user friendly, we boomers have come to embrace the wonderful world of technology. What we have learned is something that younger generations have always had. We went through years of schooling without spell check, grammar check, the ability to just back up to erase the typed word, no Google search for research papers, rotary telephones plugged into a wall that served one purpose—conversation, and no concept of what an “app” was, or that it would ever exist.

Even those of us boomers with wild imaginations didn’t foresee the day when school kids would be walking around with text books on a slim device. And the thought of being in constant communication with our parents would have probably seemed more like a nightmare than a desired condition. Our parents were parents—not our best friends.

Now that we boomers are reaching the age when we are most vulnerable to Alzheimer’s, the brave new world has come up with a possible solution—maybe, just maybe, there is, or will be, an app for people with dementia.

I read an article this morning about Apple and Google technology helping fight Alzheimer’s disease. The article spoke of tests and treatments disguised as games. Wrist watches and eye glasses that could be used for GPS tracking, facial recognition, and help with daily living.

Maybe more research should go into developing smart phones, or other electronic devices, specifically for people with dementia, especially those who are in early stages. Devices would need to be easy to keep track of, super easy to use with voice activated apps, and pictures.

Think about the problems that people in the early stages of dementia have—they forget appointments, forget to take medication, get lost, have trouble communicating, and trouble problem solving. Well, I know for a fact that I’ve used my smart phone to solve the first three problems on that list. I’m not too likely to forget appointments when my smart phone reminds me. I had trouble remembering to take my morning medication until I put a reminder on my phone. Getting lost is not an option with GPS on my phone. Wouldn’t it be easier for the memory impaired to communicate if they could see the person they were talking to instead of just hearing them? After all, words are only seven percent of our communication with each other. Facial expressions are included in body language and account for 55 percent. We’ve already discussed that there’s an app for solving a myriad of problems.

Why not have Medicare dollars pay for technology to enhance independent ability rather than drugs that cause side effects and often diminish alertness? Not only can technology help now, it will be even more beneficial for future generations who have technology entrenched in their long-term memories.

copyright© May 2014 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Article: Sun, Leo. http://www.fool.com/investing/general/2014/05/18/how-apple-and-google-are-helping-fight-alzheimers.aspx  

In the Still of the Night

I used to think that older/retired people didn’t need much sleep. Seemed like after years of forcing themselves out of bed during their working years, they found themselves jumping out of bed at sunrise just because that’s when they felt like getting up. When you think about it, that works well for someone who goes to bed early. If you have your eight hours of shut-eye in by daylight, you are going to want to jump up and start the day early.

Then there’s those like me who stay up until midnight. A full night’s sleep will still get me out of bed by eight and that’s plenty early. What I don’t like is when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. Last night, I woke up at about three thirty. I tossed, turned, and tried to go back to sleep. No luck. Then, when I thought it might happen, my weather alert radio went off. I dragged my sleepy self to the kitchen to turn it off. I pushed the button that tells what the alert is, and it started giving a regular forecast. I didn’t hear anything resembling weather that warranted the alarm.

Back in bed, I couldn’t help but think there should have been a reason for the bells and whistles disturbing my peace. Well, with my smart phone, I normally receive weather alerts on Facebook and via email, not to mention radar, and Google news. I debated. Browsing the Internet tends to keep me awake, but better safe than sorry, right? Okay, curiosity won.

First email. No alert. Then, Facebook. Oh geeze, couldn’t help but look at all the old photos posted for Mother’s Day. They just went on, and on. Time passed. It was soon four thirty, and I was wide awake. Still, determined to sleep awhile longer, I put down the phone and resumed tossing and turning, mind churning.

In the still of the night, I started thinking about how seemingly insignificant decisions or events changed the entire course of my life. I thought about the chain of events that led up to meeting Jim… On a summer Saturday, my mom and I were in the Dew Drop Inn eating hamburgers and fries when Kenny Fisher walked in. My mom knew him and introduced me. A week later, Kenny, “Uncle Orvie,” introduced me to his nephew. In many ways, it was a random meeting on an otherwise uneventful day in a series of uneventful days. Yet, that chance meeting changed the course of my life.

Sometimes the randomness of life scares me. The thought that if I do this, or don’t do that, it can change my destiny for better or worse. My life sometimes seems out of control, careening through time and space, heading toward that final frontier.

I’ve always had this insatiable curiosity as to what makes me, me. Why are my thoughts, fears, joys and sorrows, and life’s experiences inside this particular body, living this unique life, in this specific place?

In opposition to the scary thought of where the path of life is taking me is the comfort of what I consider to be my master plan. This isn’t just based on my decisions, but on my destiny. This isn’t to say that I don’t think my decisions are important anymore, in fact, I think they are crucial. But somehow, it seems that when I reach a crossroad, I choose the path that is right for me.

All my heavy thinking didn’t help me go back to sleep. So, just like other “older” people I used to shake my head at, I was up before dawn. A few cups of coffee, and I was good to go.

I wonder if today will bring one of those life changing decisions, or will it be merely another forgettable day? I may not know that answer for years—or I may know it by sundown.

Whatever the day brings, I’m confident it will fit into my master plan.

copyright © May 2014 by L. S. Fisher

www.earlyonset.blogspot.com

Dare to Inspire and to Be Inspired

April was a busy month and the first week of May was more of the same. On May Day, I went to the Lodge of the Four Seasons to spend time with some of the most inspiring women I have ever had the pleasure to add to my circle of friends. Business Women of Missouri are focused on improving life for all women, but especially those who are struggling. I am proud to be part of a group that focuses on legislation to help women, scholarships, collecting personal care products for women’s shelters…everywhere you looked, women shared ideas, hugs, and helping hands.

My friend, Nancy, has served as the state president for the past year. As part of Nancy’s team, I learned just how complex planning a conference can be. Fortunately, we had capable leaders who were able to crunch the numbers to find that, indeed, we could meet our obligation. They dared to break the mold and try some new ideas. Because of this, our Saturday morning program included two dynamic, and inspiring, speakers.

Nancy finished her term as president and turn the reins over to Sherry whose theme is “Dare to Inspire and to Be Inspired.” Inspiration—the word comes from the same Latin root word as respiration, spirare, which means “to breathe.”  Inspiration makes me feel alive.

Today has been both a sad day and an inspiring day. This morning, the sun was shining and a breeze provided a perfect day for being outdoors. The day started with setting tomato and pepper plants into the earth, with the promise of fresh produce later in the summer.

It was still early when I headed toward Versailles to a memorial for a lovely lady who left this earth too soon. Loretta had asked two family members to speak at her services. Both spoke of how inspiring and life-changing their relationship with Loretta had been. There’s no better legacy to leave than to be a positive influence on others.

Afterwards, my mom, sister, brother, and sister-in-law went out to lunch. As is typical in a small town, the place was filled with people we knew. When my aunt and uncle came in, we squeezed together to make room at the table for them. The conversation was lively, filled with humor. I was sitting at a table with people who inspire me. Then, more cousins/aunts (our family is complicated because my dad’s cousins married my mom’s brothers). It was heartening to spend some time with people I’ve known my entire life. Inspiring.

My day ended with board members of our local Business Women’s Club. Once again, I sat at a table with caring women whom I admire and am inspired by. These women give generously of their time and talents.

As we said our goodbyes, shared hugs and encouragement, I walked out of the restaurant thinking I would jump in my car and head home. It had been a long day. Instead, I decided to walk across the street and look at the veteran’s bricks I had purchased in honor of Jim and my dad.

The evening breeze whipped the eternal flame. Suddenly, I realized how beautiful the evening, and how inspiring the tributes to those who dared to lay their lives on the line for our country. The names on memorials and the rows of bricks were evidence of sacrifice and commitment. I wandered down the sidewalk reading the names. I saw one inscribed with a date when a life was lost in the Philippines. Sad, but inspiring.

I walked around snapping pictures of this familiar landmark, that had suddenly taken on a special atmosphere. I was the only person on the courthouse lawn. Had that ever happened before? What a perfect evening. What a great day to be alive, and appreciate those who died so that I could walk around the courthouse on a peaceful May evening. The breeze, the very breath of inspiration,  ruffled my hair, caressed my skin, and filled my heart with hope and happiness, as I dared to be inspired.

copyright © May 2014 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

The Easter Butterfly

This Easter seemed to be a bit of a letdown as I drove to church. Of course, maybe that was to be expected since Good Friday marked the ninth anniversary of Jim’s death.

I was bummed because I was going to Easter at the Matthewson alone. I love the years when my kids and grandkids go with me, but this year everyone had other plans. My sister-in-law had planned to go with me, but she called Sunday morning to let me know that she couldn’t go either.

Once I realized I’d be going by myself, I thought about not going. But since I had already taken my shower and had my clothes laid out, I decided to go solo.

Driving time is thinking time for me. So driving to the Fairgrounds, I found my mind wandering to the ghosts of Easter’s past. I thought about Dorothy’s famous Easter cake that she always sent to the employees at the Coop. It was a fluffy white cake topped with coconut “grass” beautifully decorated. I thought about my mother-in-law, Virginia, fixing a huge Easter feast and inviting everyone in the family. Easter was a big deal with Easter dresses, Dinah wearing her Easter hat, laughter, music, and dozens of little ones filling baskets with eggs.

I thought about Jim and when our kids were little, ready for church in western shirts I had made for them, complete with pearl snaps. It seems like a different world, a different me. I can’t believe I had the patience, or time, to sew those little shirts. I thought of school plays, baskets, family, spring flowers, butterflies, the days when April was a time of rebirth and not a time of sorrow and death. All these thoughts left me teary eyed as I suddenly found myself longing for the happy Easters of the past.

I pulled myself together, and parked my car as directed by the people assigned to the parking lot. Our church puts a lot of effort into Easter at the Matthewson. Normally, our church has different services at two different locations, but on Easter everyone comes together and invites the community to join us. It is always an uplifting, spirited service.

A giant cross was rolled inside and kids with butterfly wings swirled and swooped on the stage and down the aisle. Pastor Jim asked us to turn on our cell phones and hold them up in remembrance of loved ones. He said to send the message that “God is alive.” We sang songs, celebrated the rebirth of our Savior.

During the message, Pastor Jim said a few words that really touched me. Not relying on my memory, I typed his thoughts on butterflies into Quick Office on my phone. You can’t put wings on your back and pretend to be a butterfly, and you can’t have wings and continue to crawl.

When you think about it, butterflies begin life as a lowly caterpillar, crawling around searching for food. Their lives are totally boring, mundane, as they eke out their very livelihood by eating the leaves beneath their feed. They mature through stages called instars all the while filling themselves with toxic substances that stick with them and protect them from predators once they become adults. Through metamorphosis, the homely caterpillar emerges as a stunning butterfly and begins life anew. Butterflies don’t crawl anymore, they flit around showing off their colorful regalia while they feed on sweet flower nectar.

Butterflies symbolize rebirth. In ancient Greek, the word for “butterfly” means “soul” or “mind.” In other cultures, butterflies symbolize love, long life, transformation, animal spirits, celebration, good luck, spiritual evolution, or a sign of God’s favor.

To me, the butterfly symbolizes hope. I believe that no matter how low I might be at times, or when I think about what might have been, the butterfly promises that the days ahead will unfurl moments of breathtaking beauty. No pretending necessary—just spread those butterfly wings and fly.

copyright© April 2014 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com   

          

Voices for Alzheimer’s—Nine Hundred Purple Sashes

I just returned from my fourteenth annual journey to Washington, D.C., for the Alzheimer’s Advocacy Forum. My sister, Roberta, made the trip with me this year—for her third trip to our nation’s capitol to be a voice for Alzheimer’s.

We went to D.C. early in order to take a look around. As I browse the photos I snapped along the way, images emerge showcasing a city of stunning architecture, monuments, cherry blossoms, reflecting pools, fountains, gnarled trees, gawking tourists, honking taxis, a Sponge Bob Mailbox, a street musician playing a soulful saxophone…

My camera captured images of the past and future statues in front of the National Archives, and I read the words beneath: “Study the Past,” and “What Is Past Is Prologue.” As I pondered those two statements, I had turned and snapped a photo of the building across the street. Then, in the corner of the frame, I saw him. He was sleeping on a park bench, covered with a tattered green plastic tarp. This thin shelter was expected to ward off the chill of the night.

As we walked past him, we could hear his snores and see the blanket rise and fall. He was one of the unsheltered homeless. Out of D.C.’s 6800 homeless, more than 500 are unsheltered. They sleep in parks, in doorways, cubbyholes throughout the city. We saw a homeless man in Subway counting coins to buy a breakfast sandwich. Others beg for coins, or wander the streets pushing a cart overflowing with their treasures, hollow-eyed and defeated. I couldn’t help but wonder how many were confused and suffering from dementia.

It bothered me to know that statistically the odds were high that at least some of the homeless must have Alzheimer’s. After all, the focus of this journey  was  Alzheimer’s and a strategy to keep Alzheimer’s research funding in the budget.

Alzheimer’s is the most expensive disease in America and drains Medicare and Medicaid of $150 billion annually. Yet to fight this monster disease that gulps our economy, we wield a plastic sword.

Testifying on Alzheimer’s research before the U.S. Senate Appropriations Subcommittee, Francis Collins, Director of the National Institutes of Health, said, “We are not, at the moment, limited by ideas. We are not limited by scientific opportunities. We are not limited by talent. We are, unfortunately, limited by resources to be able to move this enterprise forward at the pace that it could take.”

 Our mission, as advocates, was to storm Capitol Hill to bring attention to the serious underfunding of Alzheimer’s research. Nearly 900 of us showed up in our purple sashes to tell our stories and to ask our legislators to increase Alzheimer’s research funding by $200 million. If we receive this increase, our funding will be $766 million—the most ever invested in Alzheimer’s research.

To put it in perspective—Alzheimer’s is the sixth leading cause of death with one-third of seniors dying with Alzheimer’s or another dementia. Approximately a half million people die each year because they have Alzheimer’s. This deadly disease cannot be prevented, cured, or even slowed. Yet, our nation is taking a pass on investing enough resources to take advantage of the talent, opportunities, and ideas generated by the brightest scientific minds in America. 

Help us make Alzheimer’s a disease of the past. Tell your legislators that we need to invest in America’s future by finding a cure for Alzheimer’s. It can be done; it will be done if we care enough.

We can’t win a war with a plastic sword. One of the health aides gave us a hint. She said that to get funds increased, we had to be visible and audible all year. Don’t let them forget about Alzheimer’s! Nine hundred purple sashes make a statement, but if you want to end Alzheimer’s and couldn’t go to the forum, please make a phone call, shoot off an email, or visit a district office. If we become a big enough pest, Congress will listen.

copyright © April 2014 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

The Morning Sunlight Diet—Free and Easy

Maine Sunrise

Sleep was elusive as a severe thunderstorm chose midnight to crash, boom, and pelt the windows with hail. About the time exhaustion won the tug-of-war, a ka-boom rattled the windows and the sky lit with the violent flash of nearby lightning.

Not to be outdone, my new phone shrieked an alarm. I’m still learning about the bells and whistles, but a siren in the middle of a storm didn’t seem like a good thing. It was a flash flood warning. I think I’d just been warned by the deluge on the heels of the hail.

I finally fell into a uneasy sleep with equally disturbed dreams. I woke up to distant rumbling thunder, gray skies, and an alarm clock flashing 5:25 a.m. My phone said it was seven o’clock, so I took a look at Google news. National news covered the shooting at Fort Hood; state news concentrated on the weather.

Health News was the real eye-opener of the morning.  Okay, I already knew that sleep helped with weight loss. Of course, after the night I’d just experienced, that was down the tubes for today. This study by the Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine concentrated on sunlight without regard to sleep, caloric intake, or exercise. The sun affects our circadian rhythm and synchronizes our internal clock.

Maybe I’m a little on the ignorant side, but I had never heard of circadian rhythm. According to the article, “Circadian rhythm is the body’s physical, mental and behavioral changes that follow a roughly 24-hour cycle.” How could I have not known this term when apparently circadian rhythm is what makes us tick?  

The super good news brought to light by this study was that body mass index (BMI) can be greatly reduced with twenty to thirty minutes exposure to morning sunlight. In fact, exposure to light can account for 20 percent of BMI! Think of all the pills, strict diets, powdery drinks, nasty tasting chocolate bars, and invasive surgery that people undergo to lose weight and, more importantly, bring their BMI to a healthy level. Think of Americans saving $60 billion spent on weight loss programs each year!

Many of us suspected that our lifestyle contributed to an alarming increase in obesity. We spend the majority of our lives indoors, whether at home or work. Some of us (this is where I raise my hand) are night owls. We stay up late regardless of the time we have to get up in the mornings. I spent most of my working years with too little sleep and almost zero exposure to sunlight. That’s a health double whammy. And when you work, thanks partially to daylight savings time, your exposure is to afternoon light, which does not have the same benefit as morning sunlight.

Maybe I’m being a little optimistic, but since morning light affects mood and behavior, as well as BMI, couldn’t morning light therapy be helpful for people with Alzheimer’s? We know sun-downing is brought on by waning light and that a well-lit room can help behavior. Maybe an early morning walk, or even quiet time outdoors would provide an uplifting start to the day.  

Without sunlight between 8:00 a.m. and noon, our internal clock is altered and becomes as worthless as my flashing alarm clock was this morning. Our body’s timepiece becomes “uncoordinated” which leads to altered metabolism and weight gain.

 After reading the article, I was hyped about soaking up the rays to shrink my waistline while energy transferred from that brilliant celestial orb to my earthbound, over-weight body. This fantastic health advice comes on a day when all a person could be exposed to this morning is doom and gloom, rain, low hanging clouds, with a possibility of hail and high winds. Not a single ray of sunlight can be found.

I’m hoping for a bright sunshiny day tomorrow so I can put my new knowledge into action. I can’t think of a better diet than pulling up a lawn chair, sipping a cup of coffee, and relaxing in the morning sun. It beats the heck out of the treadmill or exercise bike.  

copyright © April 2014 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

sources: Northwestern University press release: “Morning rays keep off pounds.” Research funded by National Institutes of Health. http://esciencenews.com/articles/2014/04/03/morning.rays.keep.pounds

“Exposure to Morning Light Can Help You Lose Weight.” http://www.hngn.com/articles/28004/20140403/exposure-to-morning-light-can-help-you-lose-weight.htm

Money.USnews.com: “The Heavy Price of  Losing Weight.”  http://money.usnews.com/money/personal-finance/articles/2013/01/02/the-heavy-price-of-losing-weight

Let’s Talk About Women and Alzheimer’s

Before Alzheimer’s came into my life, I considered it to be an equal opportunity disease affecting males and females the same way. During my years of involvement, I began to realize that Alzheimer’s had a bigger impact on women than on men.

The 2014 Alzheimer’s Disease Facts and Figures includes a “Special Report: Women and Alzheimer’s Disease.”  This report highlights several studies that bear witness to the higher burden the disease has on women.

Out of all Americans with Alzheimer’s, two-thirds are women. Why? The most obvious factor is age. Women have longer lifespans and are more likely to reach the age of highest risk. Women are more concerned than men about developing Alzheimer’s, and with good reason. A sixty-five year old woman has a 20 percent lifetime risk of developing dementia during her lifetime. I don’t know about you, but I’m not happy with those odds.

I admit that before Jim developed dementia, I never gave much consideration to how unfair Alzheimer’s is to the person with the disease and the caregiver. I had no concept of the breadth and scope of the disease—how all consuming it can be.

Being a caregiver for my husband was never a part of my vision of our life together. Jim never seemed like the type of person who would ever be anything but decisive, a man of strong convictions, protective, creative, and loving. Never in my wildest imagination could I have envisioned the turn our lives would take when he developed dementia. And certainly, if an Alzheimer’s type of dementia had ever entered my mind, I would have thought of him as an elderly man, not one who wouldn’t live to see his sixtieth birthday.

The job of caregiver falls more often on women. They are two and a half times more likely than men to be that caregiver who provides the around the clock care for a loved one who is in the late stages of the disease. These female caregivers are made up of daughters, wives, siblings, friends, and in younger onset—mothers. In a study of caregivers, indications are that females are substantially more likely than males to provide intimate personal care for their loved one with Alzheimer’s. Just like me, other women caregivers take on bathing, dressing, toileting, and changing adult diapers.

Caring for a loved one is hard work and stressful. Women report a higher level of emotional stress than men (62 percent vs. 52 percent) and greater physical stress (47 percent vs. 24 percent).

Women’s employment is affected adversely by caregiving. Twice as many women as men give up employment entirely to be caregivers. Seven times as many women as men go from working full-time to part-time in order to be a caregiver.

I was in my forties when Jim developed dementia and worked full-time. Quitting work wasn’t an option for me. There were times when the challenges of juggling a job and caregiving seemed overwhelming. Jim required only about four hours of sleep at night and that meant that I often went to work sleep deprived and emotionally drained.

When I hired caregivers to come into my home, they would often arrive late, or call at the last minute that they couldn’t come. Because they were undependable, it made me, as an employee, feel undependable too. Fortunately, my employer allowed me the flexibility I needed to work around caregiving issues. They knew that from time-to-time I would receive a phone call and have to go home to tend to the latest challenge—wandering, refusing to let someone else do something for him, or just to comfort him when he was scared or depressed.

I was young compared to most women who cared for spouses with Alzheimer’s. When I found myself feeling defeated, I couldn’t help but wonder how elderly ladies managed full-time caregiving.

Think about it—as a woman you are more likely to be a caregiver for a loved one with Alzheimer’s, and then, after years of caregiving, you are more likely to develop the disease. We women have a large stake in ending Alzheimer’s. Our brains matter to us, and we want to keep them healthy throughout our lifetimes. We need to join together as women, as caring people, as advocates to end Alzheimer’s now.

copyright © March 2014 by L.S. Fisher

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