Happy Un-Birthday

Recently, I had a birthday, but thought that perhaps I should have a happy un-birthday. If ever I chose to go back a year instead of forward a year, this would be the perfect time. Who knew that doubling my arthritis medication would make me feel ten years younger than I did a month ago?

 I was getting to the point where I wondered how much more pain I could take. Every step I took was painful. Bending made my back hurt. I couldn’t sleep because every time I moved, pain shot out from my knees upward to my thighs, downward to my ankles.

 

After physical therapy made me hurt worse, the rheumatologist’s next plan was to increase my medication and prescribe a round of prednisone. The second day on the increased Celebrex, I noticed my knees felt—almost normal! And that was before taking the prednisone.

 

OK, I’ve gone through short periods of time where I felt good for awhile. At least this time, it may last longer than normal. I feel more optimistic about my health than I have in a long time.

 

I was able to convey to the rheumatologist that my pain had reached a new level and something had to be done. I have an aversion to medications that only mask the pain. Several years ago, after surgery, I filled a pain pill prescription. I took a pill and vomited until my stitches felt like they were going to pop. I decided the pain wasn’t bad enough to suffer the consequences of the pain medication.

 

Jim lived with chronic pain throughout most of his adult life. An injury in Vietnam caused a fracture in his neck. He thought that surgery would put an end to it, but it didn’t work out that way. Several years later during an MRI, metal fragments were discovered near the surgical site. “Looks like a drill bit shattered,” the technician told us.

 

Jim lived with chronic pain, and we were constantly adjusting his medication cocktail to get the maximum benefit with the least side-effects.

 

After he went into long-term care, I still monitored what medications he was taking. I went to the home one night and saw Jim walking bent over with his hand on his back. “Have you given him his pain medication?” I asked the nurse.

 

“He didn’t say he was in pain so I never gave it to him.”

 

“Look at him! He’s walking bent over and holding his back. He doesn’t do that if he’s feeling good.” After discussion with the charge nurse, his new care plan called for pain medication on a regular basis.

Without watching for visual clues, it may be impossible to know when a person with dementia is in pain. Jim hardly made a sound for any reason, including pain. Sometimes, he would groan, but more often, he suffered in silence.

 

During the five years Jim was in long-term care, I could walk into his room at night and know if he was in pain. I could tell by the expression on his face. Sometimes when I walked in, he would get tears in his eyes. He knew I would get him the help he needed.

 

It was a blessing when I would walk in and he would smile or even just have a relaxed, pleasant look about him. In my mind’s eye, I can see him in his recliner glancing at the TV from time to time to watch a Chief’s game, a race, or a country music show. He never showed any reaction to the action on the screen. He just knew that was what he liked to watch and the staff was good to keep his TV on his favorite shows.

 

Jim never had any un-birthdays, but sometimes when I looked at him, I saw the guy that captured my heart the summer I turned seventeen. That was always a good day, and it always lifted my spirits to see him content.

 

Copyright © June 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

It's the Simple Things

A few days ago was sausage making day. My husband likes to grind and season his own sausage. I’ll admit it is delicious, but it is also quite a bit of work.

 Harold was browsing the internet trying to find a large mouth funnel to put the sausage into the food saver bags without touching the part that had to be sealed. “Why don’t you just cut the bottom out of a solo cup?” I asked.

 

“That might just work,” he said. Sometimes the simple solution is staring you in the face, but until you use your imagination, you don’t see it.

 

We’ve made some home improvements that will make upkeep and cleaning simpler. It couldn’t have come at a better time with my cleaning lady taking off the entire month of June.

 

Although we contracted the work, things were a little topsy turvy during the renovations. The bathrooms weren’t too much work, but emptying the bedroom for the hardwood was a different story.

 

During the process of going through things, I filled my dumpster. I was in a “love it or toss it” phase, and I rid myself of a lot of clutter. Still, you can’t just throw away everything, so we still have a lot of inventory. So far, I’ve not put much back in the drawers that were previously crammed full. I haven’t put anything on top of the dresser except a lamp and a clock. I love the sleek bare look. I suppose I’ll eventually put some of the photos and keepsakes back on it, but I’m in no hurry.

 

I’ve always cherished the simple moments in life. Most of my life was simple out of necessity, but that was perfect for me. I never had any delusions of being wealthy, and I never craved it. Jim used to want to win the lottery, but I figured it would just mess up my life. It worked out for us. I never bought any tickets, and he never won more than $750.

 

We enjoyed our road trips, camp outs, hiking in the Rockies, drinking coffee at Café du Monde, strolling through Old Town Albuquerque, or catching a show in Branson. We were just as happy having friends over to play music in our living room, or spending a day at Truman Dam. We loved spending time with family. After all, the basic happiness in life is spending time with the people you love.

 

My sister-in-law recently posted a photo of Jim and me that I had never seen. The photo is a little blurry, but I can tell that I’m wearing a sweater that I bought at the Goodwill store in Oregon while we were visiting family. I always underestimated how cold it was going to be and usually had to supplement the summer clothes I took with me. We didn’t just run into a department store and buy clothes—we went to the Goodwill, garage sales, or thrift stores. That was okay with me. If I could score a sweater for fifty cents or jeans for a dollar, it was a simple pleasure.

 

My idea of a life well lived is one with minimal drama, envy, greed, or stress. I am filled with gratitude for the amazing people who have influenced me throughout my lifetime. I remember so many good times I spent with my precious family and friends who have left this world for their final reward. In my memories, the days spent with my loved ones are the red-letter days that time, distance, or death cannot erase.

 

Copyright © June 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Memorial Day—Honoring Sacrifice

 

I’ve seen news reports about how this Memorial Day is going to be the most expensive holiday ever. Travel expenses include gas (of course!), hotels, food, and airfare. The complaints are rolling in as Americans weigh the cost against their vacation or trip to the lake. Judging from the traffic, I believe many of them chose travel.

 

Yes, we are going through some tough economic times, but those of us who have a little age on us have been there and done that many times before. To my way of thinking, Memorial Day should be a reminder of the ultimate sacrifices that others have made so that we are free to complain loudly and as often as we please.

 

In wartime, most Americans know who our enemy is. When my dad fought in World War II, he knew who the enemy was. He didn’t have a single doubt.

 

We’ve changed over the years. Now, we make enemies of those who disagree with us or who are different. Where Americans used to unite, now we are divided—about everything imaginable. We’ve forgotten that united we stand and divided we fall.

 

I will agree with one thing. This is an expensive holiday, but our sacrifices are small compared to those who died for the freedom we take for granted. Even worse than taking freedom for granted is being willing to throw it away to further a radical agenda.

 

At a gathering of Vietnam Veterans, one man said that he had died in Vietnam, but he just didn’t know it. That is how I think of Jim. He was never the same when he came home from Vietnam. He was haunted by his tour of duty and had physical pain that served as a constant reminder. As with many veterans and active military, he was often suicidal. I have no way to prove it, but I think his exposure to Agent Orange and PTSD contributed directly to the dementia that eventually claimed his life before his 60^th birthday.

 

The sacrifices of our veterans aren’t measured by statistics; they are measured by grief. Individual sacrifices too often result in alcoholism, drug abuse, broken homes, divorce, homelessness, and suicide. Widows and widowers stoically accept a folded American flag at a gravesite.

 

Jim’s final resting place is the Missouri Veterans Cemetery in Higginsville. The cemetery is a lovely, peaceful place that belies the turbulence of war. The flags flying above the cemetery and on the graves represent the country they defended at risk of their own lives.

 

 Memorial Day isn’t about picnics, vacations, or drinking beer; it is about the freedom to have a picnic, take a vacation, or sit on the patio with friends drinking beer. It’s about our right to breathe fresh air, look at the stars, or hear an airplane without worrying about it dropping a bomb on us. It’s about loving our family, honoring those we’ve lost, and about the right to agree to disagree.

 

Copyright © May 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Thunder and Ululele

 

My dog is brave when it comes to assorted animals of all sizes. She isn’t afraid of any kind of storm if she’s out in it. She meanders around the yard doing her business, while I huddle in the garage hoping that a stray lightning strike does not hit either one of us.

 

During the turbulent weather this spring, thunderstorms roll through on a frequent basis. When the storms come through at night and our dog is in her kennel, she raises a fearful howl.

 

When the thunder started booming in the middle of the night, I actually heard Lucy first. She whined and howled until I got up and sat with her for a long while. We were in the middle of having our hardwood installed and there was too much debris to turn her loose.

 

Eventually, I returned her to her bed, which doesn’t even describe how difficult that was. Another storm passed through and she was making more noise than the first time. At a loss as to how to calm her, I picked up my ukulele and begin running through some chord changes. She calmed down, lay down, and eventually went to sleep.

 

I always said Lucy was my biggest fan. Every time I play the ukulele, she finds a spot nearby to listen. Music can soothe the most turbulent soul.

 

During the early stages of dementia, Jim picked up his guitar every morning and played a few tunes. He called playing music his “therapy,” and it truly was.

 

In the later stages of the disease, Jim could not play his guitar, but listening to country music elevated his mood. Jim never lost his musician’s heart. We are fortunate to have old video tapes of him playing music with his family and friends.

 

I never played an instrument before I decided to try a ukulele. I credit my friend Neidth for encouraging me to try. She provided free lessons. My first ukulele cost $50 at a pawnshop. I never made it to the lessons, but between YouTube videos and practicing with the Capps Family Band, I learned a lot. I found so much enjoyment in the link between my soul and playing music.

 

The dog isn’t the only one that the ukulele calms. The spring storms have activated my arthritis. My doctor sent me to physical therapy and I felt worse instead of better.

 

When my arthritic pain becomes unbearable, I pick up my instrument and indulge in music therapy. It scares me that my hands are sometimes stiff and uncooperative, but so far, they limber up when I pluck the strings.

 

I’ll be glad when we can play music in the nursing homes again. First, the pandemic put a stop to it, but we practiced on a regular basis. We played a couple of months, and then have had to take a break from practice and playing in the nursing homes since January.

 

I’ve been teasing the band that when my brother is ready to play again, and my body feels better, he and I are going to play at the nursing homes, and the rest of the band can join us if they want.

 

I’m ready to come out of my funk. I’m tired of having no energy and getting behind in all my projects. When we set music goals and practice toward them, I’m in a better frame of mind. Arthritic pain is my version of thunder, but as long as I strum through the chords on my ukulele, I’m fearless.   

 

Copyright © May 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

No Joke

 

A few nights ago, as my husband and I struggled to get out of our chairs, he remarked, “Growing old ain’t for sissies.”

 

“No joke!” I replied. I’ve always had aches and pains, but for the past two or three years, the pain is worse and more constant. I coughed and hacked my way through January and February, and that took a lot out of me. Being sick zapped my energy levels.

 

The advantage of the mystery illness—I tested negative for Covid and flu—was that my nagging knee pain was gone. As soon as I returned to normal, the knee pain returned with a vengeance. I went to a rheumatoid specialist and he prescribed therapy. I stuck it out to the bitter end, but instead of feeling better, I could barely walk.

 

This is the time of year that I’m usually planning a trip to DC to attend the AIM (Alzheimer’s Impact Movement) Forum. The last Forum I attended was in 2019. As usual, I went a few days early to visit the sites. I was having problems navigating because of my knees, so I would find a place to sit and admire the view.

 

In 2020, I had purchased my plane ticket and reserved my hotel room. My friend Sarah had invited Kathy, Jane, and me to spend a few days at her house in Virginia. I was excited about my 20^th trip to the Alzheimer’s Forum. Then, wham bam, in person meetings were cancelled.

 

We met virtually in 2020 and 2021. This year, the Forum is for AIM Ambassadors only. The conference will be a scaled down version of past Forums. “Be prepared for more walking than usual,” was the warning.

 

Life circumstances have changed since 2020, and I knew that going to the Forum might not be impossible, but certainly not probable. When registration rolled around, I told my contact that I wouldn’t be going this year. Since I bowed out, Jessica was able to step in and take my place.

 

I’m happy for her and hope she has a great time in DC and makes an impact on our legislators. I’ve told my friends who are going to the Forum to post a lot of photos for me to see.

 

I believe that those of us who can’t be there in person can use Zoom to view the sessions. It’s not the same, but it will have to do. I’m sure I’ll feel a tinge of regret and envy when I see the photos, but this is my new reality.

 

Getting old really isn’t for sissies, but as a former co-worker used to point out—it beats the alternative. No joke! Who ever thought I’d look forward to seeing the doctor on Monday and getting shots in my knees? I’ll have to agree with my former co-worker about alternatives—painless beats painful every time.

 

Copyright © May 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

 

April 18, 2005

 

Yesterday morning I woke up early from a night of unsettling dreams. I immediately had a sense that something was wrong. It was too early to call anyone to check on them so I went back to sleep. I didn’t awaken again until about ten o’clock. Harold came in to wake me just about the time I headed toward the kitchen for coffee. “Are you okay,” he asked.

 

I said, “No.” I didn’t feel okay. I didn’t feel rested and the rainfall contributed to my full body ache. After my first cup of coffee, I realized it was April 17, Easter morning.

 

April 17, 2005, was the day that was the beginning of the end of my first life. It was the day we knew for sure that Jim wouldn’t be with us much longer. It was a day of sadness, trying to give comfort to him as he lay dying. We played  tape after tape of his favorite music, held his hand, and stroked his brow.

 

Jim always said that death was closing one door and opening another. In the early morning hours of April 18, he closed the door on his earthly life and opened the door to eternity.

Life Goes On

Excerpt from Indelible

One time on my way back from Kansas City, I pulled off the interstate when I saw the sign for the Missouri Veterans Cemetery at Higginsville. I stopped at Walmart hoping to find some flowers and instead settled for a colorful plant in a pot decorated with two birds facing each other. As I left Walmart, I drove through McDonald’s and bought a cheeseburger and fries.

A few miles out of town, I pulled through the gate into the cemetery and drove to the columbarium. I had the peaceful, quiet cemetery all to myself. 

I shared my water with the plant and placed it beneath Jim’s memorial. I sat on a bench and ate my lunch while I reflected on our life together. Jim would have looked forward to my impending retirement and trips to see family and friends. He would have wanted to spend time animal watching in the Rocky Mountains he grew to love so much. He would have been so proud of our children and grandchildren. He would have loved showing the grandkids his childhood places and sharing his stories and memories. That was what made Jim, Jim.

We would have spent time having those soul-searching conversations about life, death, and the time between. Time. We ran out of it.

We were always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up. I remember when Rob was young, he used to say, “Curtis and I want to go to Colorado and be mountain men.” One time my grand­­daughter told me that she wanted to be “Barbie” when she grew up.

I saw a TV show where grownups were saying what they wanted to be when they “grew up.” One person said, “When I grow up, I want to give more than I get.”

Well, I never wanted to be Barbie or a mountain man, but I certainly admire the idea of giving more than I get. It’s only natural for us to look out for numero uno. After all, we’re looking at the world through one set of eyes and from one perspective. With our limited vision of the world around us, some find it easier to be selfish than to be selfless.

Does it do any good to measure what we have accumulated against what others own? Coveting another’s possessions creates a miserable existence. Those who have little might envy those who have more, or those who have a lot might look down on people who have less.

Some people are innately generous, for example a child who gives his or her favorite toy to a friend. More common are the children who grab a coveted toy out of another child’s hands.

The odd thing is that often people who are the most sharing are those who have the least. Maybe it isn’t so strange after all. People who have accumulated a lot of wealth sometimes do so by pinching each penny until it screams. They’ve worked hard for what they have, and they don’t think anyone else deserves the fruit of their labor. Wealth can be a prison of fear and anxiety.

I came from a home with two hard-working parents who struggled to provide for a family with eight children. We never had a lot, but Mom and Dad instilled into each of us that a person’s worth was not tied to how many material possessions he had amassed.

Instead of telling us to go out into the world and try to be rich, our parents guided us toward being independent, hard-working adults who took satisfaction in being good people. We were taught that we weren’t better than the less fortunate, and we weren’t less than the wealthy. We were raised in a share and share alike environment, and it has lasted each of us for a lifetime. There is not a selfish member in my family!

One of the most generous people I’ve known in my lifetime was Jim. He would not only give someone the shirt off his back, he actually gave my brother the buttons off his uniform. He gave away a priceless tater bug mandolin and a valuable Gibson guitar. I would say throughout his life, he gave much more than he received. Greed wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Although dementia greedily snatched him away physically, he left an indelible impact on the lives he touched. Throughout his life, a circle of family and friends surrounded him with love.

Jim was one of the people who gave more than he got during his lifetime. No, he didn’t leave a monetary inheritance. What he left was a richness of memories, stories, and love of family. That is admirable in itself, but I think even more important is that when he left this world, he left more than he took. 

Copyright © April 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Confused

 

I think Mother Nature is confused and can’t decide what season this is. We had April showers in March, and March winds in April. One day, I wear a T-shirt and capris, and the next, I wear my Sherpa-lined pants and my heaviest hoodie.

 

I’m confused about not only the weather, but also the day of the week. Like most retired people, my husband and I often have a discussion about the day of the week, especially when it is time to take our nightly meds. We usually wind up looking at our phones, because those darned things always know what day it is.

 

The older we get, the more confused we are. Add to that my husband’s hearing problems. He often thinks I’ve not told him something or that I have told him something that doesn’t make any sense. In all fairness, I do have a habit of starting a story in the middle and working my way to both ends. Sometimes the difference between what I say and what he hears is quite humorous.

 

I drive three different vehicles and, of course, no two are alike. Where one has windshield wipers, another has a turn signal. The gearshifts, lights, radios, hands free calling, are in different places. I drove my ten-year-old Chevy Malibu for the first time in months and hit a rainstorm. I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the wipers! I had to pull off the road and locate them. By the time I figured it out, the rain stopped.

 

When we leave the house, we put our PC’s in a secure location. I went outside soon after we returned from town. My husband wanted to work on his PC so he retrieved it. When I came in, he was telling me how he couldn’t get signed on. He had even looked up his password, and it didn’t work. Finally, he discovered he had my HP instead of his.

 

A little confusion can cause a few laughs, and a lot of “Yes, that’s happened to me.” The confusion caused by Alzheimer’s can be funny at times, but heartbreaking too. It’s so much better to laugh than to get hurt feelings. I tried jogging Jim’s memory with some old photos. I pulled out the photo album that he had in Vietnam. He had taken a photo of me in my yellow bikini on our Hawaiian honeymoon. I pointed to the picture and said, “Do you know who that is?” He looked at me and said, “I have no idea.” It was a bittersweet moment. I told my co-workers about it the next day, and one of them quipped, “Bring the photo in and see if any of us knows who it is.” Well, now, that did put things into perspective.

 

I have moments of panic when I think I’ve forgotten to pay a bill or an important appointment. I’ve used a few tricks that work most of the time. I put reminders on my phone, but I do have a habit of getting the a.m. or p.m. wrong. It doesn’t do a bit of good for the reminder to pop up at 10 p.m. when it was supposed to be 10 a.m. So far, I haven’t missed an appointment where they would bill me for not showing up.

 

I’ve started an electronic to-do list where I put upcoming events or bills. Then instead of deleting them, I use a strike-through font so I can see that I really did take care of the statement. That helps a lot when you get a second notice back to back with the first one.

 

The three times I have the most confusion are (1) when I’m stressed, (2) when I’m tired, and (3) when I’m not feeling well. No wonder I’m in a constant state of confusion—I have two of the three most days of the week, and periodically all three at once.

 

Copyright © April 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Taking Care of Yourself

One of the hardest things I had to do as a caregiver was finding time to take care of myself. I took Jim to so many doctor visits that I just couldn’t face any additional ones. Then, later, caregiving consumed most of my free time. The bad thing about this scenario is that eventually neglecting my own health caught up with me.

It is easy to tell a caregiver, “You have to take care of yourself,” but it is hard to put those good words into action. Knowing what we should do doesn’t always mean that we will do it. Personal health doesn’t always make it to the top of the caregiver priority list.

 

I recently downloaded a copy of the 2022 Alzheimer’s Disease Facts and Figures and came across a section on caregiver health. So many of the statistics reminded me of how mentally and physically exhausting caregiving can be. The stress of caregiving increases the chances of health complications. Seventy-five percent of caregivers reported they were concerned that they were not adequately maintaining their own health. 

 

According to the report, caregivers of a person with dementia lose between 2.4 hours and 3.5 hours of sleep a week. Well, I think I lost more than that much sleep each night! Jim didn’t seem to need more than four hours a sleep, and that meant that I didn’t get much more sleep than he did. He wandered around the house and sometimes out the door. After having to drive the road at night to find him, I put an alarm on the door so that he couldn’t go outside without me knowing it.

 

Stress and burnout are the nemesis of a caregiver. It is important to have some time away from the responsibilities of caregiving, or respite. I was working when I cared for Jim and I really needed that time away, although leaving him in someone else’s care was a different kind of stress. Fortunately, I worked close to home and could make the trip in less than twenty minutes.

 

Caregiving is a challenge, but family and friends can be lifesavers. We were blessed that Jim and I both came from large families who were there for both of us. Jim enjoyed being around someone besides me, and when I was stressed and tired, I can understand why. Our sons and daughters-in-law were frontline warriors that were only a phone call away.

 

A difficult situation for a caregiver is knowing when to say “when.” With family help and professional caregivers, I kept Jim at home as long as I could. Relinquishing most of Jim’s care to others was heart wrenching. When I placed Jim in a nursing home, I was still a hands-on caregiver because no matter how much dementia changed him, he was still Jim. For my own peace of mind, I needed the assurance that he received the best care possible.    

 

Being a caregiver can be fulfilling when it is a labor of love. When you know that you are doing your best to keep your loved one safe, happy, and comfortable, you will sleep better at night—even if it is for four hours.

 

Copyright © March 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Memory Week—State Advocacy

 

Earlier this month, I participated in the Alzheimer’s Association Greater Missouri Chapter Memory Week. For the second year, we met virtually. Between March 7 and 10, I attended webinars, participated in Zoom programs, and  joined a virtual meeting with Senator Lauren Arthur.

I sent emails to my state legislative officials, Representative Kurtis Gregory and Senator Sandy Crawford about our three legislative priorities:

 1.  Fund Alzheimer’s Grants for Respite. House Bill 3010 will maintain $450,000 to fund respite support or care related products for families caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s at home. I was one of the 99% of people who was able to keep my loved one at home longer with respite care.  

2.      Continued Funding for the Structured Family Caregiver Waiver. The Structured Family Caregiver Act was signed into law in 2019 with an initial cap of 300 participants. This agency-directed model helps families navigate the  comprehensive and cost effective choices they have to make for persons with dementia. The waiver was approved in February 2020 and funding for this program is included in House Bill 3010.

3.      Missouri Alzheimer’s State Plan Taskforce. In 2021, the Missouri General Assembly re-established the Missouri Alzheimer’s State Plan Taskforce. The Taskforce assesses all state programs that affect people with Alzheimer’s or a related dementia. They update and maintain an integrated state plan to overcome Alzheimer’s. We are asking for an additional five months for the taskforce to produce its initial report to the Governor and General Assembly.

 

None of these programs are high dollar budget items, but can save the state billions in Medicaid  costs for expensive nursing home placement. Family caregivers in Missouri provide free in-home care for their loved ones valued at $4.3 billion.

 

Considering that Alzheimer’s is the most expensive disease in America, I hope Missouri will approve our asks to provide respite funds for caregivers who take on the responsibility of caring for a loved one. We need to care for the caregivers! The Structured Family Caregiver Act and the Alzheimer’s State Taskforce will put our state on the right track to provide services necessary for the 120,000 Missourians with Alzheimer’s and their families. These programs are designed to protect caregivers from emotional distress and financial ruin while keeping loved ones with dementia at home as long as possible.

 

During Memory Week, Secretary of State Jay Ashcroft addressed the advocates. He talked about his personal connection to Alzheimer’s disease. His maternal grandfather had Alzheimer’s and his maternal grandmother was his primary caregiver. He spoke about the Secretary of State Vulnerable Citizens Services Unit. Older adults are often the target of scams. Affinity fraud is especially insidious. Someone will infiltrate a church, temple, or civic organization with the sole purpose of selling fraudulent investments. Avoiding fraud is as simple as ABC: Ask questions, Be cautious, and Call the SOS office. The hotline to report scams is (855) 653-7300.

 

Please be vigilant of loved ones with dementia when it comes to scams, and be fearless when it comes to taking action to stop anyone from taking advantage of them.

 

Copyright © March 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Step by Step

 

A few days ago, I heard the old song “Step by Step” by the Crests. The darn song keeps running through my mind day and night since then. I don’t know all the lyrics but the step by step part of the song is like a broken record.

 It could be that the phrase reminded me of how things have been for me lately. It seems that some days are handled best one step at a time. My first step is to have a cup of coffee. Then, after I have time to drink it, preferably in silence, I’m ready to face the day.

 

Retirement has caused total chaos in my mind as far as the day of the week and the day of the month. Occasionally, I don’t notice when one month turns into another, but that is a by-product of not knowing what day it is. Thank goodness, I have electronic devices that make that job a lot easier. If it weren’t for my cell phone alarms, I would miss more appointments than I do.

 

On Saturday I had a moment of panic thinking that I had missed my Tuesday dental appointment. Not only are they hard to get, but the last notice I received reminded me of extra fees for being late or missing an appointment.

 

The previous confession reminds me of the wonderful program that my friend Amelia presented on Ten Signs and Symptoms of Alzheimer’s during Memory Week. I don’t have to look beyond Sign #1 Memory Loss to find the symptom of relying heavily on memory aids. Okay, I know that in today’s busy world, almost all of us count on the bells and whistles of our devices to keep us on track.

 

Once you’ve been a caregiver to a person with dementia, you realize how extensive and debilitating that memory loss can be. When the clinic tried to evaluate Jim, they asked him if he knew what month it was, and he replied, “Yes.” I’m sure he thought they should just take his word for it. In all fairness, I think Jim sometimes did know the answer to their questions, but his aphasia made it hard to him to find the right words. Or he may have thought they were just stupid to have to ask him such silly questions.

 

In the early stages of Alzheimer’s short-term memory loss is the first sign. A person with Alzheimer’s might remember an event that happened in his or her youth, but a hour after eating cannot remember what they had for breakfast—or perhaps not remember eating breakfast.

Step by step makes me think of both Walk to End Alzheimer’s and advocacy. In September, we take steps at the Walk to End Alzheimer’s to raise funds for Alzheimer’s research and programs to help caregivers and persons with Alzheimer’s. When we advocate for Alzheimer’s research and legislation to help families, we are also taking steps.

 

When I first began advocacy, I felt like we were taking baby steps, but lately, I think we’ve made some gigantic steps toward finding a cure for Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias.

 

Step by step, we are moving forward toward our goals. The more of us who advocate, the quicker we will move forward. Just like in the song, advocates start with the “first step.”

 

The first step is the hardest one, but once you get started, you will hit the ground running.

 

·         Photo courtesy of Scarlet Lens Photography from the 2021 Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer’s

 

Copyright © March 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

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