Forget Me Not

 

The night before the Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer’s, I found a package of paper forget-me-nots. We sell the flowers for $1 at fundraising events, but I didn’t have any events coming up. I posted on Facebook that I would make a donation to the Alzheimer’s Association for every name given to me. I would put their loved one’s name on a forget-me-not and display them on my vendor table at the Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer’s. In all, I had about twenty names and donated $5 each.

The morning of the walk, I began taping the forget-me-nots to my table. The wind caught one of the flowers and I chased it down. The place of honor went to Jim’s forget-me-not. I had written “Grandpa Jim” and “Great Grandpa Jim” around the edge. Jim loved being a grandpa, and he loved his grandchildren with all of his heart. He would have equally loved the grandson and great-grandson that were born after he passed away.

Alzheimer’s forgetting is different from age-related memory problems. I forgot to send out my fundraising letters until a couple of weeks before the walk. I asked them to make the checks payable to the Alzheimer’s Association and send to my Post Office box, and I would deposit them with the app on my phone.

Sometimes, several weeks can pass before I remember to check my Post Office box for mail, but I checked it regularly before the walk. I was expecting two donations through the mail, but the box was empty every time.

Finally, I noticed a metal piece across the back of my box. The fee is due in June, and I always pay as soon as I get the notice. My key still worked, so it didn’t make sense that the box was closed.

At home, I searched my various bank accounts and credit cards to see when I had paid for my box. My husband got tired of my searching, called the Post Office, and handed me the phone. After a short conversation, I received the distressing news that my box had been closed due to non-payment. Of course, the people I needed to talk to wouldn’t be in until later in the day.

“I can’t believe I forgot to pay for my box,” I told my husband. “I’ve had that box for twenty years and never once paid late.”

“We’re getting old and forgetful,” he said. “We have so much more to remember now than ever, so it isn’t any wonder that we might forget to pay something.”

Then, I began lamenting about my insurance that is due in September and other mail that may have been returned. After checking my scanned documents, I was reassured that I had received my insurance statements in August and they were already paid.

I went to the Post Office that afternoon and found the box had to be reissued to me as if it were a new box, although I would have the same box number. “I don’t remember ever getting a notice, and I certainly never got a late notice,” I said.

“There was a problem in June.” He didn’t elaborate and at this stage, it didn’t matter anymore.

I think I had my own problems in June. I added a year to my birthday and obviously purged part of my memory. I’ve gone to an electronic to-do list which is supposed to be my reminder to pay certain bills. The big problem is that I forget to load up the list and look at it daily.

My most reliable memory aid is the calendar on the wall. I write appointments and reminders on it so that I forget-them-not. I check the wall calendar daily as I walk by it on my way to the coffee pot. The one thing I never, ever forget is my coffee.

Writing names on the $1 forget-me-not flowers are a way to remember and to honor our loved ones who are living with, or have died from Alzheimer’s.  No one is truly forgotten when his or her name is etched inside our hearts.  

 

Donations to the 2022 Sedalia Walk accepted through December

Click www.alz.org/sedaliawalk

Copyright © September 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

2022 Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer’s

 

Those of us on the Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer’s Committee spent nine months planning for the Saturday 17, 2022, Walk to End Alzheimer’s. We recruited a record number of corporate sponsors and planned the details of walk day. Anyone who has never served on an event committee has no idea of the time and effort it takes to make the big day seem effortless.

Last year, we worked through some big snafus. A week before the big event, we discovered the shelter we thought we had reserved was rented to someone else. Still, we managed to move to a different location in the park and by the time the walkers arrived, we had tweaked our original plans to fit in the new space.

This year, we had no last minute crises. It was heartwarming to see our efforts bring big smiles on the faces of the walkers. For the first time, we had a balloon arch and colorful tents to match the pinwheel flowers.

I was happy to see my team arrive, and our wonderful photographer snapped a photo of us. When I downloaded the photos that Jessica Buesing from The Scarlett Lens captured, they added to the kaleidoscope of images already racing through my head. Through her lens, I was able to see what I missed.

Part of the beauty of the walk is connecting with others. I had a conversation with some of the Sigma Kappa Delta Eta team. I welcomed them to the Sedalia Walk and complimented them on their fundraising.

I also met three women from Cedarhurst who had the sponsor table next to mine. I told them that I had been with some friends, and we sang Christmas carols for their residents. “Do you only know Christmas carols,” one of them asked.

“I’m part of a family band that plays at nursing homes in Stover and Cole Camp,” I said. “We play mostly country with some old time rock and roll and inspirational songs. I played my ukulele and sang for Sylvia G. Thompson for part of the facility. Then Covid hit and the other side was cancelled.” They wanted to know if I would play at Cedarhurst, and I agreed that I would in October. I look forward to this new adventure. Singing brings me joy, and I love to see smiles on the resident’s faces.

I met a delightful woman, Rose, and her husband/care partner. Rose has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and I was able to visit with her for a while. During our flower ceremony, Rose held the blue flower. It hurts my heart that she and her family have embarked on the Alzheimer’s journey.

After the opening ceremonies, the teams lined up to go through the balloon arch. We fell in behind several other teams and started on the walking trail. After we had walked for a while, I began to lag behind. I reached a patch of shade, and told the others that I was going to rest. Eric stayed with me and Brandon came along in one of the carts and offered us a ride. “As long as you don’t drop us off farther along the trail,” I said. It felt good to sit down and he drove farther to see if anyone else needed a ride. As we sat there, the rest of the team came by and I snapped a few photos of them.

Brandon brought Eric and me back to the beginning of the walk where we were greeted by pom poms and ringing bells. The walk/ride was over for me.

Rob and Brady helped me break down my table and return my various items to my car. The car was so hot that I rolled down the windows and started it. I walked back over and helped with the teardown. Before long, every sign was taken apart, tents were broken down and loaded into the vehicles, and every stray water bottle was thrown in the trash.

With our goodbyes said, I returned to my cool car, breathed a sigh of relief that all went well, and headed for home. I removed the button with Jim’s picture from my shirt and placed it on the console where I could see it.

I stopped at Dairy Queen to get a cold drink and a chicken strip basket to take home. As I pulled out onto the highway, I thought about all the times, I took Jim out of the nursing home to get chicken strip baskets or milkshakes at Dairy Queen.

My thoughts turned to the 1998 walk when Jim and I joined the Hannafords from Slater, Joetta and Penny from the Alzheimer’s Association and Penny’s dog, Victoria, for the Sedalia Alzheimer’s walk. That was a hot day too, but it didn’t keep us from walking from Liberty Park to downtown Sedalia.

Throughout my twenty-five walks I’ve seen numerous changes, including Memory Walk becoming the Walk to End Alzheimer’s. Other changes: the number of participants, the walk organization, the advertising, the pinwheel flowers, the online registration and walk page with instant updates, and the list goes on and on. But some things never change: the passion, the heartbreak and hope, the smiles and tears, and the wish for a world without Alzheimer’s.

Also, never changing is that I walk for persons with dementia and their caregivers. As always, I walk for Jim, and he walks with me as surely as he did in 1998.

Copyright © September 2022 by L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
#ENDALZ

Music for the Soul

The Capps Family Band 2022

     Saturday afternoon, the Capps Family Band played music for our dear family friend’s 75^th birthday party. I went early to set up my sound system, which was pieced together from several Amazon purchases. I hooked everything up and the microphones had no volume. After a brief moment of panic, I finally discovered that one of the connections wasn’t inserted completely.

Unlike our nursing home gigs, we didn’t have a formal program, but my sister-in-law had put several of our songs together where they were easy for my brother to find. Normally, he is our fearless leader, but he said I was the one that made arrangements for this program, and I was in charge. “I don’t want to be in charge,” I said. Anyway, the program went off without a hitch with everyone in charge of themselves.

It is amazing how much the decision to play a ukulele has changed my life. After I learned a few chords, I began to practice with the family band. My brother encouraged me to play with the band at the nursing homes. I sat in the back far from the microphones and played my little instrument. Then, at practice, my brother finally talked me into singing a song. “We’ll put that on the program next month,” he said.

Later, that week, we played at the nursing home. “My sister Linda is going to sing a song,” he said. So, I stood up and sang the song just as we rehearsed it. That was when I realized how much joy Jim found while playing his guitar and singing.

Jim learned to play on a mandolin when he was a small boy. His mom said that when he first learned to play, he played “Rubber Dolly” so much that she was sick of hearing it. Jim told me that later, his uncles, especially Uncle Vic, taught him how to play the guitar.

Jim always picked up his guitar first thing in the morning. He said it was his therapy. A devoted Buck Owens fan, Jim often played the instrumental, “Buckaroo.” One of the saddest parts of dementia was watching him slowly lose his musical skills. The song choices that he could master went from hundreds to a handful of songs. Long after he had forgotten lyrics to most of the songs he used to sing, he sometimes played “Buckaroo” perfectly.

After he lost his ability to play his guitar, Jim never stopped listening to the music he loved—country music, bluegrass, cowboy songs, and Elvis. Music was always a part of Jim’s life, and listening to the songs he loved soothed his soul.

I have also learned that nothing works its magic on me the way that music can. When I pick up my ukulele and browse the Capps Family Band songbook, time just flies by. The clock might say it is midnight, but my heart says one more song, and another, and I wonder if I can play or sing that song? I love the challenge of stretching my ukulele playing, or taking on a song that I don’t think I can sing. When I’m successful, it’s a rush, but if I fail, I just set it aside for another time.

The one thing I’ve learned is that mistakes happen, the old voice might crack once in awhile, but the purpose is not to be perfect. Perfection is for studios where a song might require several takes, or tweaking the sound. The secret to live music is that when you make a mistake, you just keep right on going.

 I’ve found that life also has a secret, and amazingly, it is the same secret as music. No matter what happens, we need to move forward. We all make mistakes, but to live life to the fullest, we need to keep-on-keeping-on.

The worldly treasures we have accumulated do not determine whether we are successful in life. We are truly wealthy when we have the magic of music in our souls.  

 

To register or donate to the Sedalia Walk click www.alz.org/sedaliawalk

Copyright © September 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Jim's Team Since 1998

I reached out to the Alzheimer’s Association when Jim’s dementia became problematic. Penny Braun, Executive Director at the Alzheimer’s Association Mid-Missouri Chapter, told me about the Sedalia Memory Walk. I registered for the walk, but couldn’t decide how to tell Jim about it since he was in denial that he had an Alzheimer’s type of dementia.

A few days before the walk, Jim saw a small article in the paper about the upcoming Memory Walk. “We should go to that walk,” he said, “because I have memory problems.”

We arrived at Liberty Park expecting to see a crowd, but instead saw four people and a dog. We joined Chuck and Helen Hannaford from Slater, Penny Braun and her dog Victoria, and Joetta Coen from the Mid-Missouri Chapter. Jim and I were the only two people from Sedalia.

Our small group walked through downtown Sedalia with Helen blowing her hunter’s horn while we collected donations from business owners, passersby, and from members of the VFW.

I haven’t missed a Sedalia walk since 1998. The name of the walk has changed to the Walk to End Alzheimer’s, and the location has changed, but the mission is the same: A World Without Alzheimer’s.

After the 1998 walk, Joetta Coen asked me to chair the next walk. I remember telling her that if I could get my family to walk, we would have more people. My fantastic committee members grew the 1999 walk to more than 100 participants.

Between 2000 and 2019, participation ranged from 200 walkers to a high of 444. Then, the pandemic hit. In 2020, to avoid a large gathering, the Alzheimer’s Association announced a “Walk Everywhere” event. It didn’t take me long to decide that Jim’s Team would walk the original 1998 route.

Walk Everywhere was a trip down memory lane. With my arthritic knees, the walk was more of a challenge than it was the first time. We stopped and rested on the steps of the beautiful public library. The 2020 walk made me feel closer to Jim, and in its own way, brought our journey full circle. It was a stark reminder of how personal and important the walk was for my family and me.  

Lord willing, September 17^th will be my 25^th walk. A few weeks ago, it occurred to me that I am the only person in Sedalia who will reach that milestone this year. Some of my family members are not far behind me. I plan to poll them and find out who will reach the 25^th walk milestone next year or in the next few years.

Jim’s Team has also been the most consistent fundraising team in Sedalia. We weren’t the best fundraising team every year, but we’ve always been in the top three. Over the years, our team has brought in more than $70,000 in the fight to end Alzheimer’s, and to support families dealing with dementia.

The Sedalia Walk is Jim’s legacy. He was the sole reason that our family became involved in the Walk, and our inspiration to continue. I often hear from people who never knew Jim while he was living, but still feel a connection to him.

My first blog post, Indelible Mark, (January 19, 2008), came straight from my heart: “When Jim developed dementia at forty-nine, we knew life would never be the same. Our memories eventually became my memories. The disease stole Jim from me, but it could not steal the indelible mark he left behind.

“In the end, instead of erasing Jim, dementia ensured he would never be forgotten. His two pictures on the cover of Alzheimer’s Anthology of Unconditional Love are indelible images of Jim. In one picture, he smiles from beneath his favorite Stetson. In the other, he walks away from the camera on a beach in Oregon. I can’t imagine his indelible memory living in a happier place.”

 

To register or donate to the Sedalia Walk click www.alz.org/sedaliawalk

Copyright © August 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Driving on Sunshine

Harold and I recently took a road trip to Springfield. For the first time in a few years, we took a trip where the destination wasn’t a doctor’s office. 

Well, we weren’t going on a random trip—we did have a few goals in mind. At the top of the list was a butcher block top for the Big Green Egg cabinet that Harold designed and had built. The cabinet was originally going to have a granite top, but they weren’t going to be able to cut it for several weeks. After giving it some thought, I suggested that we get our deposit back from the granite  and use a butcher block countertop instead. We could pick up what we wanted at Grizzly in Springfield.

We also needed to get new turn signal/brake lights for the Cargo Master trailer. That wasn’t as simple as we first thought. Those lights come in a hundred different shapes, and none of them matched what we had. Once Harold located a close match at Lowe’s none of the local stores had them in stock and the online order form wouldn’t work correctly. Finally, Harold located the lights at the Lowe’s in Springfield. That worked out well since we were going there anyway.

Next on the list was to go to a grill shop and pick up a few “essentials” for using the Big Green Egg. Finally, we wanted to go to Sam’s to get a few items that do not ship well in August heat.

As we headed down the road to Springfield, it reminded me of the road trips Jim and I took to Branson. Jim loved traveling, but as his dementia worsened, we couldn’t make the annual trips to Colorado anymore, so we substituted shorter trips to Branson. We usually stayed in a cabin near the lake. We were a short drive away from the Branson Belle and Silver Dollar City. We always took in a couple of country music shows, which always included Tom Brumley’s show. Jim was always happy on those trips.

On the trip to Springfield last week, I drove our Silverado Pickup while Harold was able to notice all the changes that had taken place over the years. Part of the trip was on divided highway and part on two lanes. After being behind a slow-moving truck, I was happy when we reached the divided highway. “Finally!” I said. “Now I can pass that truck.” I turned on my blinker, checked the mirrors, and saw the pickup pulling a trailer whip into the passing lane. “I guess he’s in a bigger hurry than I am.” I said.

I turned off my blinker and checked the mirror again. “Where did he go?” I asked.

Then, I saw the truck driving into the median with the trailer at an odd angle to the truck. To my surprise, he drove back up the grade and onto the highway. “I bet that scared the crap out of him,” I said. 

Harold mapped out our route so that we wouldn’t have to backtrack. After we picked up our orders at Lowe’s and Grizzly, we went down Sunshine Street to finish our day. We stopped by the grill shop and onto Sam’s.

While we were at Sam’s we noticed the gas was about forty cents cheaper per gallon than the best price in Sedalia. So we queued up behind one of the many lines of vehicles. An employee waved us over to a shorter line. “We have pump extenders so you can use this line.” Sure enough, cars were pulling the nozzle over to the other side of their cars to gas up.

Although, I was a little skeptical, I pulled the nozzle across the bed of the truck and started fueling. This is really cool, I thought, until I went to take it out. It seemed to be stuck. Harold was working his way around the truck to help me when I thought to give a tug on the hose. Well, duh, that worked.

 On the way home, we stopped at Dairy Queen for ice cream to go with the churros I had purchased at Sam’s. After eating our cones, as we waited to pull out onto the highway I noticed a motorbike with a minuscule sidecar. As it passed by, I noticed that a dog was in the sidecar.

At the traffic light, we got a better look at the dog in his customized mini rocket. He turned toward us, as if mildly curious about the car a few feet from him, and I noticed he was wearing goggles. Harold and I both grinned and simultaneously remarked about how cute the dog was.

We enjoyed driving on Sunshine on a sunshiny day and vowed not to wait so long for our next road trip.   

 

Copyright © August 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

The More I Do, the Less I Get Done

 Lately, I am busy all the time, but my to-do list is only getting longer. I start a dozen different projects, and once I get them past the critical point, I stop and move on to the next one.

At work, we used to call it putting out fires. The fire burning the hottest, and the most likely to get out of control, takes priority over the other slow burning fires. Eventually, you notice that the out-of-control fires are getting all the attention.

 

I definitely do not multi-task as well as I used to. Distractions slow me down and sometimes bring the task at hand to a grinding halt. I’m having a hard time working on projects my head tells me I need to do when my heart is tugging me toward something that I want to do. I would much rather play my ukulele than work on accounting.

 

When the real feel temperature outside is triple digits, I attend to my inside chores and projects. Earlier this week, we had a day with a high in the 70s. I decided to go outside and mow around my flowerbed and use the weed eater on the parts I couldn’t get too.

 

When I finished with the flowerbed, I tackled the weeds between the hydrant and the well. Soon, I noticed a squishing with each step I took. The area was saturated with water and the ground underfoot was soggy from a leak. We couldn’t find anyone who could fit us into their schedule for the next two weeks. Harold’s cousin came to the rescue, but the leak is stubbornly deep. My fifteen-minute job of weed eating on a nice day turned into a weeklong distraction that hasn’t ended yet.

 

Let’s just say one-call to locate underground lines took a dozen calls. The phone company said that we had no service. Harold’s response, “Does that mean I don’t have to pay the bill?” After a day of calls to renew job tickets, a contractor showed up to locate our phone line. It was exactly where I remembered them locating it before when they remembered we had phone service.

 

Lately, I have as many distractions and disruptions as I did when I was a full-time caregiver. If I found a task to do that required concentration, I would suddenly hear a door slam and know I’d have to stop Jim from going down the road. If I zigged, Jim zagged.

 

As a caregiver, I was often exhausted—mentally, as well as, physically. I suffered from a chronic lack of sleep, and was emotionally drained.

 

Watching a loved one slipping through the different stages of dementia is disheartening. Remaining calm, focused, and contented becomes a challenge. I found that volunteering for the Alzheimer’s Association made me feel as if I was making a positive out of a negative. The fulfillment of accomplishment helped offset the sense of failure.

 

I could always encourage other caregivers and understand their frustrations, but I expected more out of myself than I could give. I crept closer and closer to the tipping point. My friends, family, and my physician told me that I needed to take care of myself too.

 

Sometimes, I think I’m almost at that same intersection between rest and busyness again. I chronically stay up too late and have to get up too early. I’m running low on energy, which only makes me struggle to keep up with my obligations. While I’m busy doing one task, other projects become more imminent and urgent.

 

I crave more downtime. I miss the feeling of accomplishment when the work is completed and it is time to play. I haven’t decided whether I should buckle down and finish my to-do list, or delete it altogether and start from scratch with a focus on stress reduction.

 

Copyright © August 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Culinary Delight

 

Tonight we had a delicious meal of chicken and noodles in wine sauce. Harold had put the culinary delight together by gathering ideas from several different websites and tweaking the recipes to make them his own. He has a knack for blending seasonings and adding surreptitious touches to any dish he makes.

 

I’m not sure that it is a total coincidence that Jim was also a good cook. It could have been dumb luck that I married two master chefs. Yeah, I’m sure it was a coincidence or dumb luck.

 

It also happens that they both had mothers who were well known for their cooking/baking talents. When Harold’s mom baked, it would have been picture perfect for a cookbook or magazine layout. Dorothy’s cakes, pies, brownies, or cookies looked as beautiful as they were heavenly scrumptious.

 

Jim’s mom had always cooked for a large family. I never knew anyone who could prepare a meal at warp speed and still be as tasty as everything Virginia cooked. She could perform magic with flour, milk, shortening, and baking powder. Virginia’s biscuits and gravy were legendary. She could bake a pie faster than anyone I ever saw in my life. And her light rolls were to die for.

 

Jim found solace in cooking. Between his physical pain, PTSD, and depression, there were times he could not work. A VA psychologist suggested that he take on some household chores to combat his feelings of worthlessness. Jim started cooking the meals and washing the dishes. His method was to clean as he cooked. By the time the food was on the table, the only thing that hadn’t been washed was the dishes necessary to eat the meal. I was never that organized when it came to cooking, and usually left a pile of dirty dishes in my wake.

 

Dementia is a thief that steals talents and personality traits. At first, the losses were minor and barely noticeable. I noticed differences in Jim’s skill level about a year before anyone else did. When I started telling people that Jim was having difficulty with his reasoning, I think most of his family thought I was the one with a problem.

 

We were all in denial and hoping against hope, that Jim would get better. He was so young that several specialists thought his condition could be reversible. It took a full day of testing to determine that he couldn’t do simple math or complete any questions that required abstract thinking. We both cried when he was diagnosed with dementia of the Alzheimer’s type.

 

In the early stages of dementia, Jim could still cook. The transition was so gradual that I don’t remember exactly when he no longer prepared the meals or when he stopped cooking completely.

 

More prominent in my memories are Jim fixing a complete meal on his camp stove at Moraine Park in the Rocky Mountain National Park. There’s nothing better than drinking coffee by a campfire and watching Jim fixing bacon and eggs on the camp stove. That culinary delight lingers in the recesses of my mind and in the depth of my heart.

 

Copyright © July 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

On My Own

 

Five years ago, I bought a cheap minnow-sized ukulele and a tuner at a pawn shop. I watched YouTube videos and read about tuning and playing the instrument. What stuck out mostly in my mind was that ukes were fun and not an instrument to cause stress. In fact, playing a ukulele is a great stress reliever.

 The first thing I had to do was to cut the long fingernails that I had always had. The day I clipped them to the nubs, was the day I committed to learning how to play.

 

As soon as my brother learned I had an instrument, he invited me to practice with the Capps Family Band. Playing with the band was a breakthrough moment for me. It taught me to keep time and to keep up with the flow of the music. It was well worth the long drive to spend time with family and learn how joyful jam sessions are.

 

For several years, the band played at nursing homes near where they live. I started going to the nursing homes with them and sat in the back away from the mike as I learned how to play. Eventually, my brother talked me into singing “Coal Miner’s Daughter.”

 

Until the pandemic, our family band entertained at three nursing homes each month. After the nursing homes were on lockdown, we continued to practice twice a month.

 

My husband made a call to a local nursing home to ask if they wanted entertainment thinking the Capps Family Band could play for the residents. During the course of the conversation, he learned they didn’t have a sound system, which is a requirement for the band to play. I took the phone and asked if they would like me to play my ukulele and sing. I have a microphone and a Block Buster that is lightweight and easy to transport. They immediately put me on the calendar for two different dates, so I could play for residents on both sides of the facility.

 

The day came to play and as I sat in front of a large group of residents, I realized that I was on my own. This was a first for me since I’ve always been a part of the band. Other members of the band play music when I sing and provide vocal backup. My part is usually two or three songs, and here I sat with an entire play list with only my ukulele for accompaniment. Granted, I had upgraded from the minnow to a soprano uke, but it was all the music I had.

 

Being on my own in a new situation reminded me of how I was on my own as Jim forgot how to do familiar tasks. I had to make all the decisions, as his uncle once said, “You are thinking for two.”

 

Our home became quieter and quieter when Jim began to lose his conversation skills. Still, having him at home with me was comforting. Scheduling someone to be with Jim while I worked became a challenge. Hired caregivers were unreliable, but my family and Jim’s family stepped in to share the caregiving load, but at night and on weekends—I was on my own.

 

When Jim went into long-term care, being on my own was lonely and sometimes terrifying. I worried about Jim constantly, and spent as much time as possible with him. I visited him every day after work and on my days off. I took him for drives, walks in the park, to DQ for lunch or ice cream, to Walmart, and occasionally brought him home for the day. Like caregivers everywhere, I was basically on my own.

 

So as I sat in front of my audience, on my own, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t on my own at all. Sitting in the first chair on my right side was a woman who had always been one of our biggest fans at a nursing home where the band played. We had missed her the last time, and thought the worse. It made my day to find her alive and well! “When I saw it on the calendar,” she said, “I hoped it was you.”

 

I was not alone. I had the background of the band, who had been with me every step along my journey of playing an instrument and singing. I had learned that I didn’t have to be perfect, I just had to keep going when I made a mistake. My brother tells us, “Keep singing. If you make a mistake, don’t point it out, just keep going. Most people will never notice.”

 

I relaxed, picked up my ukulele, and started singing. It was a great day to share in the joy of music. They lifted my spirits, and judging by their smiles and encouragement, I believe that I lifted theirs.

 

Copyright © July 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Farmers’ Market

 

At one of our Walk to End Alzheimer’s committee meetings, we were brainstorming about events where we could promote the Walk and other Alzheimer’s programs and services. Someone suggested the Farmers’ Market, and our walk manager, Laura, proceeded to contact them. The market is open on Tuesdays and Fridays each week, and we eventually procured a Friday for our informational booth.

 

Laura and I set up our table at the Farmers’ Market on a lovely day that plopped itself right in the middle of a heat wave. We were front and center where we saw everyone who entered and left the market. A steady flow of people mostly passed us by, but occasionally someone would stop to pick up information or show interest in our September 17 Walk.

 

We took turns perusing the market booths. I snapped photos and walked around looking at everything but didn’t buy anything. Laura found a few things including a fried pie. She declared it delicious. Her endorsement was enough to convince me that I, too, had to have a fried pie. I also scored two “hens and chick” succulents that I had been wanting.

 

Several people stopped by our booth including the CEO of one of our corporate sponsors. She took several posters and walker sign-up sheets. I saw a friend that grew up in the same rural area that I did. All, in all, it was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

 

The time went by fast, and as we broke down the table and put away our things, Laura mentioned the small number of people who stopped by. “But it was a nice day, we had a great visit, we handed out information, and got out the word about the Walk. Not to mention I found my hens and chicks, and you have some goodies to take home.”

 

“You sure put a positive spin on it,” she said.

 

“If you reach one person, it wasn’t wasted time,” I said.

 

Spending an afternoon at the Farmers’ Market also put the place on my radar. When we ran out of tomatoes, Harold and I stopped by the Farmers’ Market. Harold waited in the truck, but cautioned me, “Don’t buy a lot of stuff.”

 

As I strolled into the market, I noticed a long line winding across the entire building. I was relieved that the line was for peaches and not tomatoes! Several different booths had tomatoes for sale with much shorter lines. I chose one that was also selling corn on the cob. After I bought my tomatoes, I asked about the corn. “Six dollars a dozen,” she said.

 

I only wanted a half dozen so she bagged the corn up for me. In less than ten minutes, I purchased delicious tomatoes and tasty corn. On my walk back to the car, I was thankful that I was only in the sweltering heat for a short time.  

 

I’m glad Laura and I went to the Farmers’ Market with our Alzheimer’s information, but Laura and I both agreed that on a hot day, it would be miserable. We were lucky once, but with a long, hot summer ahead of us, we knew that wasn’t likely to happen again.

 

Our next booth will be in air-conditioned comfort at Central Missouri Electric Cooperative’s Annual Meeting. We will be sharing information and talking the Walk.

 

Copyright © July 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

The Lost Is Found--Sometimes

“What’s that in the driveway?” Harold asked as I stopped to check the mail.

 “I don’t know, but it kind of looks like my travel coffee mug,” I said. I grabbed the mail out of the mailbox and tossed it into the truck. “I’m going to check it out before I climb back in,” I said. It’s a high step for me to get in and out of the truck.

 

I picked up the object and, sure enough, it was my mug. “I set it on the edge of the truck bed before I left home,” I said. “I guess that’s how long it took to fall off.” The cup was a little banged up, but didn’t seem to be hurt any.

 

Lately, we’ve spent a lot of time looking for lost items. Things are not where they should be, and it’s frustrating. I was getting ready to drain the water off the spaghetti. “Where’s the strainer?” I asked. I was looking at the slot where the strainer has been for as long as I can remember. I finally set down the pot of hot water and spaghetti while I pondered where it could possibly be. I looked in every logical place and a few illogical ones. No strainer. Finally, I gave up and used a different one that I could find.

 

A few days ago, we were on the search for Harold’s small pocket notebook. He had written a bunch of measurements in it and didn’t want to have to re-measure. Well, I found about six of the little notebooks, but none had the correct information in them. I finally called a store we had been in to ask if they had found it. They had not. The search went on for two days, and finally Harold found it in his nightstand drawer.

 

I think that since we live in a huge house and have a large inventory of miscellaneous items, I can see why objects can be easily lost. Harold likes to buy kitchen gadgets and sometimes finding cubbyholes to store them takes creative rearranging. Anyway, that’s my excuse.

 

Yesterday, when I put gas in my car, I noticed one of my credit card slots was empty in my metal wallet. I dumped my purse and looked in every place in it. The search was on. I looked in the truck because that’s where I had used it last. First glance, not there. I checked out my smaller purse that I sometimes carry. It wasn’t there either. After exhausting all leads, I went back to the truck. I finally spied the missing card hiding in plain sight. It had slid against the side of the console and almost invisible.

 

The various searches makes me think of how Jim used to say, “Right here, but I can’t find it.” I know it was frustrating for him. Not only would he misplace or lose something, but because of aphasia, he couldn’t even tell me what he was looking for.

 

Part of the reason we lose so many things is that we are constantly distracted. Our electronic devices constantly ding, buzz, ring, chime, or interrupt with pop ups. My phone is paired to my car and the pickup. The pickup is several years newer and has more bells and whistles than my car. I was driving the pickup this morning and on my informational screen, a popup informed me that I had a text message and told me who sent it. Geeze. The only good thing is that my phone didn’t make any noise and thankfully, didn’t distract me more with the entire text message.

 

Through perseverance, or stubbornness, we usually find the lost. Still, after all this time, I cannot find that strainer. Harold thinks I might have thrown it away, but I don’t believe that. I will not go dumpster diving to see. If it’s gone, it’s gone, but truthfully, I think we will find it—eventually, somewhere, somehow.

 

Copyright © June 2022 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ