Storms Never Last, Do They?

Missouri has really been slammed by storms—first Joplin and then my hometown, Sedalia. When the tornado sirens sounded in Sedalia and the ominous words, “Tornado on the ground!” were broadcast on the radio, my mind immediately visualized Joplin. The Joplin tornado hit Sunday and like most people, I watched the story unfold on TV. In Joplin, an F-5 tornado splintered lives and left behind a scene from a horror movie.

I knew people in Joplin through Missouri Writers Guild and Business Women of Missouri, and I worried about their safety. At the BWM Conference in late April, two of the women from Joplin told me they had seen the announcement of the presentation I was making at the June 24 Alzheimer’s Caregiver Conference in Joplin.

My friends were safe, but more than 130 people lost their lives. Among the dead were ten residents of Greenbriar nursing home. One of the dead at the nursing home, 70-year-old Richard Elmore had Alzheimer’s disease according to his stepdaughter. The Greenbriar staff was praised for moving the residents to a hallway in the few minutes warning they had.

I’ve seen nursing home staff in action during tornado warnings. One night while I was at the nursing home where Jim lived, the sirens sounded and staff in the dementia unit led people into the hallway and seated them. I pushed Jim into the hallway in his recliner. He seemed unconcerned about the chaos around him as other residents moved up and down the hall and tried to get back into their rooms. Our town had been hit hard by tornados in the 1970s and those of us who remembered those storms were a little nervous. The staff passed out ice cream and the residents settled down to enjoy their treat. The storm passed over without any damage.

Jim had never been scared of storms and had a ringside seat to the 1977 tornado that hit Sedalia. Jim worked at Memorial Park Cemetery and rather that go into the metal building, he parked his truck in the cemetery. His reasoning was that if the tornado got close, he would be safer in the open grave he had prepared for an afternoon funeral. He was too close to the tornado to see the funnel, but he could see the houses across the street exploding. “Okay,” I questioned him later, “just what did you consider bad enough to get into the grave if you didn’t do it when the tornado was just across the street from you?”

“You know, after Vietnam, I just can’t get too excited about storms,” he said. Sedalia looked like it had been bombed, but no lives were lost.

The tornado that hit Sedalia on Wednesday, May 25, destroyed 65 homes, wiped out businesses along 65 Highway, and severely businesses on the south side of town. So much debris rained down on the city and surrounding farmland that lost-and-found centers have been set up to reunite people with belongings swept up in the tornado.

My first glimpse of the damage was on my computer screen at work where I viewed a video taken from the Channel 9 helicopter. My co-workers and I tried to identify businesses and mobile home parks that were in shambles. Semis were tossed onto their sides, highline poles snapped with transformers on the ground, trees broken and flung onto cars, the school bus barn collapsed, and homes were dissected exposing furniture and insulation.

Storm stories have been shared through interviews and social media. Hundreds of photos and videos are available on Facebook and YouTube. I don’t recall ever seeing so many people I personally know on the news. Considering the path of destruction, we were fortunate—no deaths and, thankfully, only minor injuries.

This morning I thought about a Waylon Jennings/Jessi Coulter song Jim used to sing— “Storms Never Last Do They Baby?” The song is a love song about a stormy relationship compared to the storms that disrupt life. Those storms can be tornados or other severe storms, or they can be the turbulence that creates a bumpy ride along life’s journey. The truth of the song is that storms do not last. Storms swoop into our lives, and in a heartbeat, can forever change our familiar landscape. Just when we think it will bring us to our knees in defeat, a rainbow promises that life continues after the storm has passed.

Copyright May 2011 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/

Alzheimer’s Action Summit

For the eleventh time, I made the trip to Washington DC to add my voice to other Alzheimer’s advocates. For the second time my granddaughter went with me.

We were at the airport Saturday morning for our 6:30 AM flight and arrived in DC mid-morning. While we waited for our room to get ready, we rode the Old Town Trolley down to the mall and toured the Museum of Natural History. Sunday, we visited the national zoo to admire the pandas, elephants, apes, and reptiles. Considering the forecast, the weather turned out to be fantastic.

Sunday evening the Summit began with the roll call of the states and a representative from each state told about their accomplishments in the past year. After the roll call, we learned a storm was coming in and the candlelight rally would be held at the hotel.

During the rally, several people spoke, but one that stood out the most for me was twenty-two-year-old Keri Roaten, caregiver for the grandmother that raised her. Just like caregivers twice her age, or even four times her age, Keri’s life has been put on hold. While each caregiver sacrifices many other events in life, it seemed particularly poignant to me that Keri missed activities that most teenagers take for granted. She missed her prom and her college dreams were put on hold. We held our candles high in remembrance and tribute for Keri’s grandmother and for loved ones living with the disease and for those whose journeys have ended.

The first time I lit a candle at the vigil, I had just placed Jim in a nursing home. I was plagued with doubts, fears, and anxiety. Five years later in 2005, I lit my candle only a few short weeks after our journey ended. This year, my heart ached and my eyes burned at the raw emotion of those were at an emotional crossroads.

Monday was a full day that  began at 7 AM and ended at 10 PM. We heard Newt Gingrich, a longtime supporter, share his concern about the economic future of this country when, without effective treatment or a cure, Alzheimer’s will cost the American Government $20 trillion between now and 2050. Gingrich is optimistic that the scientific community will have a breakthrough if we invest in Alzheimer’s research. During lunch, Melody Barnes, domestic policy advisor to the President, spoke of President Obama’s serious attention to the fight against Alzheimer’s. She considers the National Alzheimer’s Project Act a step to further research and awareness.

The Summit culminates with legislative visits. We met with the health aides for our senators and our representative to discuss our legislative issues. Senator Blunt dropped by for a photo op.

This year we had a two-fold mission: the Alzheimer’s Breakthrough Act and the HOPE for Alzheimer’s Act. We used a new approach on the Alzheimer’s Breakthrough Act. Rather than asking for a dollar amount for research, we asked for research funding to be driven by what the scientific community deemed necessary to make significant progress. The HOPE for Alzheimer’s Act covers three areas: (1) Early and Accurate Diagnosis, (2) Care Planning that ensures caregivers know all available resources, and (3) Medical Record Documentation.

My granddaughter and I were tired by the time we headed to the airport for our trip home. I hope that someday we can make the trip to Washington, DC, just to sightsee. My wish is for the day Alzheimer’s is one of those diseases that people “used to have” but has been wiped from the face of the earth. Until then, I’ll pack my bags once a year to become a VOICE for those with Alzheimer’s and their caregivers.

Copyright © May 2021 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/

Photo of My Mom—What Does It Say?

The black and white photo of my mom, Lula Capps, is worth a thousand words, but a million words remain unsaid. The picture doesn’t show the color of the rich auburn hair that she always called red. It doesn’t show it pulled back into the ponytail that I remember her wearing on a regular basis. You can’t see that she looked so youthful that she was often mistaken as a sister to her eight children.

The picture doesn’t show her talent as songwriter, singer, and musician. It merely hints of the intelligence of a woman who worked her way up from a sewing machine to management without a high-school diploma. She always taught us to believe in ourselves and that we could do anything we set our minds to do. She wanted her children to grow up to be independent adults with a good education and to have a better life.

She was not the typical mother of the 50s. She didn’t wear housedresses, cook and clean all day, or grow potted plants. She worked at a factory, wore blue jeans, read novels, played her guitar, and drank lots of coffee. On a Saturday night, you would usually find her at Grandma and Grandpa Whittle’s house jamming with her brothers.

The picture does not show the wonderful, complex woman that gave life to the eight Capps kids. It doesn’t show the struggles and triumphs of a lifetime. It doesn’t show the love she has given and received from her family. You see no hint of sadness for the future when she outlived every member of her birth family or the heartache of a woman who held a son in her arms only one time before he died. The picture doesn’t show her beautiful soul, only her lovely face and smile.

My mom was there for me when Jim developed dementia. She drove more than an hour each way to stay with Jim while I worked. She didn’t do this because she had to, but out of love for Jim and me.

To this day, my mom is my role model. She is full of life, healthy and active. She and my Aunt Labetta are always plotting something to add fun to their lives. They sing at nursing homes, plan vacations, and frequent jaunts to the casino.

Mom is spiritual without being overly religious. She talks about God as if she has a direct line to heaven, and won’t take a bite of her meal until she has asked a blessing.

I feel so lucky that God gave me to her and gave her to me, and I want to wish a happy Mother’s Day to the best mom in the world.

Copyright © May 2011 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/

Long Term Care Decision

One of the most difficult decisions a family has to make is determining when it is time to place their loved one in a long-term care facility. The decision is emotionally charged and financially draining.

Our first choice is to keep our loved ones at home and, in fact, 70% of people with dementia are cared for at home. In the early stages of the disease, this is the most appropriate care. As the disease progresses, the primary caregiver must remain vigilant to changes that could make homecare unsafe.

Many times family members will ask me how I knew it was time to place Jim in long-term care. My final decision was complicated, but at crunch time, two important aspects became the deciding factors.

First, Jim only slept about four hours a night, and I was physically exhausted. During his waking hours, it became imperative to be watchful. Providing twenty-four hour a day care for an adult is different than watching over children. As Jim’s reasoning process deteriorated, each day brought new challenges as I coped with escalating situations about driving, wandering off, relentless pacing, anger issues, and depression. He became the telemarketers’ best friend as he agreed to purchases for products we didn’t need or want.

The second deciding factor involved his safety. Even though I hired caregivers, installed an alarm on the front door, and felt like I sometimes had the proverbial eyes in the back of my head, he still managed to wander off from time to time. I took him to a facility for day care only to have them call to tell me they couldn’t keep track of him. He had picked up his guitar and headed off down the road toward the highway.

Eventually, I realized that if Jim wandered off in extreme weather and I didn’t find him in time, we wouldn’t have to make a nursing home decision. I didn’t want my husband to be lost and alone without the ability to find his way to safety.

It was a heartbreaking moment when I admitted defeat. I always knew that Jim couldn’t help being the way he was, but dementia had become the victor. It was time to do what was best for both of us—his safety and my sanity.

My sons and my mother-in-law knew the time had come to find a safe environment for Jim. Other than those three, I didn’t seek or want anyone else’s input. The more people involved in the decision making process, the more complicated it becomes. Too often it is the family members who haven’t helped in the day-in-day-out caregiving that least understand why long-term care has become necessary.

My friend, Ted, kept his wife at home until the stress sent him to the hospital for open-heart surgery. The doctor told Ted to either find a home for his wife or start making his funeral arrangements. That may seem a little extreme, but often the caregiver is the one who dies and then someone else has to make the long-term care decision.

The only people who truly understand how hard it is to be a primary caregiver are those who have been one. Visiting a person with dementia for a few hours or even a few days does not create true understanding. Sometimes our love for the person with dementia throws us into denial.

A diagnosis of Alzheimer’s is hard to accept and if you haven’t seen the day-to-day changes, it is easier to believe the physician has made a mistake. One visitor told me, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with his memory. He talked about his childhood friends and remembered every detail about Oregon.” Short-term memory goes first, and yes, at that time Jim could remember things that happened thirty years ago, but sometimes couldn’t remember our sons’ names.

The only way to know if it is time to place your loved one in long-term care is to look at the day-in-day-out situation and base the decision on what is best for the person with dementia and the primary caregiver.

Stay fully engaged with your loved one once he or she is placed in a home. Rather than second-guessing the long-term care decision, use smiles, hugs, and thoughtful gifts or treats to make your visits a joyful occasion for both of you.

Copyright © May 2011 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/

Predicting the Outcome

One of my favorite shows, The Mentalist, is centered on a man with an extraordinary ability to predict human behavior. In his job as a consultant, Patrick Jayne the mentalist, always downplays his extraordinary ability as being based on observation. Jayne denies that he has any psychic abilities and maintains they do not exist in the real world. His uncanny abilities often leave others shaking their heads and wondering how he really does it.

A lot of people, in general, and psychics in particular claim to have the inside track on predictions. Most psychic predictions are so general that many events can be interpreted as fulfilling the prophecy.

One of my favorite psychic predictions involved Dolly Parton. The prediction was that she would fall in love with a 300-pound professional wrestler, write a song called “Headlock on My Heart,” and feature her sweetheart in a music video. This is a detailed and specific prediction that set the psychic up for failure. Well, Dolly Parton has a sense of humor and when she read this wild prediction, she wrote the song and asked Hulk Hogan to star in the video—complete with fake wedding between Dolly and “Starlight Starbright.”

Most of us listen to predictions on a daily basis. Predictions may be minor, but we may plan our wardrobe based on the weather forecast, how far we are willing to travel on vacation based on the price of gasoline, whether to change our retirement fund investments based on the stock market, or whether we want to watch reality TV if our favorite is voted off.

Most important predictions concern our health. Through no fault of our own, we may be susceptible to certain diseases based on our genetic makeup. Science has made it possible to predict accurately a person’s health outcome of certain diseases through genetic testing.

The APOE gene has long been connected to Alzheimer’s. Which version you have of the APOE gene can mean that you are twenty times more likely to develop Alzheimer’s (2 copies of APOE-4) or less likely to develop Alzheimer’s (2 copies of APOE-2). Of course, any person may have any combination of APOE genes and most people do not know their genetic makeup and cannot predict whether they are more likely, or less likely, to develop Alzheimer’s. The APOE gene is one of the genes that breaks down plaques.

The hallmarks of Alzheimer’s are two proteins—amyloid beta (causes plaques ) and tau (which causes tangles). Science is beginning to come together to get to the cause of the plaques and tangles.

• Chris Dobson, Cambridge University, discovered that slight genetic adjustments to amyloid beta protein could make it more soluble. Insoluble proteins cause plaques.
• Researchers at Brown University have found that the cell process works in diseased brains but is overwhelmed by misfolded amyloid beta proteins.
• Dr. Jeffrey Kelly, Scripps Research Institute, announced the discovery of several genetic mutations that make people more susceptible to Alzheimer’s disease. These genes are more commonly associated with cholesterol metabolism and inflammation.

As the research comes together, the University of California announced a more accurate method of using MRIs and a neuropsychological assessment to predict whether a person will develop Alzheimer’s. The goal of the research is develop a method to diagnose Alzheimer’s disease in an early stage before symptoms appear.

When we develop a disease, the crucial prediction is the prognosis. Without a breakthrough, predicting the outcome of an Alzheimer’s diagnosis is unfortunately accurate.

Early detection makes a difference in a hopeful outcome for most diseases. With scientific breakthroughs from many different sources, Alzheimer’s may someday be a disease where early detection means successful treatment.

Copyright © L. S. Fisher April 2011
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Sources:
Ridley, Matt, Connecting the Pieces of the Alzheimer’s Puzzle. April 2011.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703806304576242781646480162.html

http://esciencenews.com/articles/2011/04/11/mri.may.contribute.early.detection.alzheimers

The Power of Failure and Rejection

Last week I attended the Missouri Writers’ Guild Just Write Conference and coordinated the pitch sessions. For those of you who are not writers, pitch sessions are when authors try to sign with an agent or editor who can sell their books to major publishers. Ten agents listened to seven minute pitches from 9 AM to 4 PM.

Some of the authors had worked on their novels for years and in seven minutes tried to convince a professional that their book could be a success. This process is so important to the authors that they are understandably nervous.

“My goal is to not throw up on my shoes,” one author said. I’m happy to report she came out of the session with clean feet and a smile on her face.

Many just came out shaking their heads no. “She didn’t like it,” or “She doesn’t know where she can sell the book,” were some of the remarks. These authors have a chance of success because they did not let the fear of failure, or rejection, keep them from pursuing their dreams.

One young author, Christine Karsh, pitched to four different agents and three requested the first thirty to fifty pages of her young adult novel. She was ecstatic! Taking a chance on rejected may have landed her a New York agent.

Some of the best authors are never published because they are afraid of rejection. Every time I submit a story, I realize it may be rejected. Recently, my local writers’ guild announced the stories to be published in this year’s anthology. Of course, some of the stories and poetry had been rejected. Some authors were angry, one poet said she felt “broken,” and another author just laughed and said, “It’s hard to know what the judge is going to like.”

At our writers’ guild, we use a positive attitude about successes and failures. Often, the same people report both.

“One of my stories won a prize,” I’ll sometimes say when we report our successes.

“Any failures to report?” the president asked at our last meeting.

“I do,” I said. “The story I submitted to Mysteries of the Ozarks was gently rejected.”

I’ve been rejected many times as a writer. If I didn’t take a chance on being rejected, I would never have been published or won any prizes. I have had stories rejected by a publication and resubmitted them to contests and won more in prizes than the publication paid.

Sometimes our fear of failure can hold us back from meeting our most basic needs in life. During this time of high unemployment, some people have their job applications rejected so many times that they have become so discouraged they quit looking. When I was out of work in the early 80s, the situation was the much the same as it is now. I went on job interview after job interview until I successfully landed a job at an electric cooperative. I wound up getting a much better job than had I been hired at one of the places that rejected me.

When I became Jim’s caregiver, I worried about failure. I was plagued with doubts. Would I be able to take care of him? Could I make the best decisions for him? Would I be able to handle years of overwhelming responsibility? I battled with a sense of failure when I finally had to place Jim in long-term care. I felt like it was my fault when Jim was kicked out of the nursing home. If I hadn’t let icy roads keep me away, would I have been able to ward off the dark mood that led up to the incident? My biggest doubts were on this date six years ago when Jim died. Did I fail to find some treatment that would have made a difference?

In my heart I know that everything was done for Jim that could be done, and I’m glad that I didn’t let fear of failure make me give up. Realistically, I knew we were not going to successfully stave off the ultimate destiny of our dementia journey, but it didn’t keep me from wanting to make that journey as happy as it could be.

Every morning when we wake up, we can decide whether we want to play it safe and not take any chances, or we can make the most of our God given talents. If we do not let fear of rejection and failure hold us back, we have unleashed the ultimate power tool for success.

Copyright © April 2011 by L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

The World is Blossoming!

Apparently, there’s nothing quite like a ninety degree day in April to make the blossoms burst out in full glory. Looking out my patio doors just beyond the indestructible artificial plant on the patio table, redbuds provide a splash of color against the shades of springtime green.

Going to pick up my paper, I first noticed tiny delicate flowers on my lawn, right beside the wild garlic that has popped up since the last mowing. And, oh, yes, the dandelions are in their brilliant yellow stage pretending to be a normal flower. The Shasta daisies in my flower garden have opened up. The scent from the two lilac trees wafts along the breeze and I couldn’t resist stopping and leaning in for whiff of their fragrance.

It’s easier to be optimistic when butterflies flit from blossom to blossom and when birdsongs fill the air. Blustery winds and bone chilling cold seem like only a shadow left from a bad dream. God pauses to smile from fluffy clouds against a cerulean sky.

No season is perfect. Spring is a time of thunderstorms, tornadoes, pesky insects, and reptiles. April is a time of sad anniversaries, those dates that are firmly ingrained in my mind as a time of nearly unbearable loss. In a week, I will pause and remember Jim on the six-year anniversary of our journey’s end. Marking the day I knew he would never again sit on the front porch with a cup of coffee and smell lilacs on a sunny April morning.

I have not been too ambitious today, in fact, I’m resting up from my weekend at the Missouri Writers’ Guild conference. I would have slept later this morning, but before she left for work, Shawna had taken pity on my cat and let her come upstairs. By seven o’clock, Katrina could no longer contain herself, jumped up into my bed, and immediately tried to lie down on my head.

I had spent the morning catching up on email and Facebook. About noon, I decided to relax with my library book. Reading made me sleepy, so rather than take a nap, I decided to go outside for a while.

When I walked around the yard, it was easy to feel the essence of family that used to live here—Jim, his mom and dad. My brother-in-law, Terry, was outside and we looked over the garden spot and talked about the plants that he would plant in the garden.

“Just let me know what you would like me to plant,” he said.

“Well, I really liked those peppers last year, and you know I love tomatoes. Oh, and cucumbers, and zucchini,” I said. My taste buds were singing louder than the birds while I talked about fresh garden vegetables.

“And I’ll plant some lettuce,” Terry said, “for salads and wilted lettuce.”

“I’m thinking about planting some herbs,” I said, “in a container.” I can’t quite see me weeding and tilling in the evenings after I get home from work.

“We planted herbs here,” he said, pointing to the outer edge of the garden. “A few of them are coming up from last year. Here’s fennel, garlic, and chives. I don’t know if any of the other herbs will come up again this year.” We turned over a few dirty, faded plastic markers from last year. Terry had left the markers because, like me, he wasn’t sure if he could identify the herbs without them being in little plastic bottles plainly labeled.

While we walked around the yard, we talked about the mulberry tree, gooseberry vines and blackberry vines, and then I noticed the big may apples. “Hey, I bet mushrooms are up,” I said.

“Ginger didn’t find any yesterday,” he said.

As I walked back through the door to finish my inside work, I was smiling. This would be a great day to just sit outside on the porch and look at all the blooms, butterflies, and signs of spring. Sure, I still miss Jim, but I know in my heart Jim would not have wanted me to waste a minute of this gorgeous day thinking sad thoughts.

Copyright © April 2011 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/

VA REACHing out to Caregivers

The Department of Veterans Affairs is pleased with the success of their REACH VA pilot program to help caregivers of veterans with Alzheimer’s and plans to expand the program nationally. By relieving caregiver stress, the veterans receive better care at home.

The REACH program provided caregivers:

• Twelve in-home visits and telephone counseling sessions
• Five telephone support group sessions
• A Caregiver Guide with forty-eight behavioral and stress topics
• Safety and behavior management education
• Training for health and well being

The caregivers who had the benefit of these program reported they were less depressed, not as frustrated, and were less burdened on a daily basis with caregiving duties. Caregivers also reported fewer dementia-related behaviors with the veteran under their care.

I applaud the VA for recognizing the benefits of taking care of the caregiver. If your loved one with dementia is a veteran, you should check into the REACH VA program.

If your loved one is not a veteran, please contact your local Alzheimer’s Association chapter. They, too, provide training and support for caregivers.

The five core services of an Alzheimer’s Association chapter:

1. Information and Referral
2. Care consultation
3. Support Groups
4. Safety Services
5. Education

Details on these services can be found at http://www.alz.org/we_can_help_local_chapters_wch.asp

As a caregiver, my lifeline was the partnership I formed with my local chapter. Through their educational programs I gained confidence as a caregiver, knowing I had the benefit of expert knowledge. I received respite funds to help defray the cost of in-home care. At support group I learned from the facilitators and from the experiences of other caregivers. Through my local chapter I registered Jim with Safe Return. I pored over every newsletter the chapter sent out to learn about new treatments and just to find out what was going on with other caregivers.

The VA has taken a giant step in the right direction to REACH out to caregivers. Visit www.caregiver.va.gov to learn more about this program.

Caring for a person with dementia can be overwhelming. The health and wellbeing of the caregiver is crucial to keep our loved ones at home as long as possible. By knowing and using the resources available in your community, you will be a better caregiver.

Copyright © April 2011 L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

For Every Action, There Is a Reaction

The last few weeks have reminded me that for every action there is a reaction. I’m not talking about Newton’s Third Law or even writing advice I’ve received over the years. No, I’m talking about everyday common occurrences.

Since I live in the country, I may be a little closer to nature than my city-dwelling friends. Last Saturday, I looked outside to see five cows grazing in my yard. I’m not afraid of cows, but noticed one of the “cows” was actually a bull so I stayed inside until the bull decided to butt my satellite dish. I reacted by yelling in my no-nonsense  voice, “Get out of here!” The big guy turned toward me and gave me a look that indicated he wasn’t scared of me at all and didn't budge until my brother-in-law chased them away.

A few days and a few cattle visits later, one-half of my satellite programming quit working. It seems that half my programming is on one satellite and the other half is on a different one. My luck, the half that was working had C-Span and info TV, and the half that was out of commission carried American Idol.

For $98, they would look at my dish or I could purchase a service contract for $6 per month with a five-month obligation. I agreed to the service agreement. My daughter-in-law walked in while I was finishing my conversation. She went outside and looked the dish over, tightened up a few loose screws and the TV came back on. “I don’t know how long it will last,” she said.

I couldn’t see cancelling the appointment so I asked about upgrading to DVR. I had wanted to do this for months, but hadn’t done it. The technician not only upgraded my system, he programmed in American Idol so that I didn’t have to miss it while I was at the Alzheimer’s Walk meeting that night.

He planned to come back Wednesday to bury the cable and mount the dish on a pole. Wednesday morning, I turned on the water to take a shower and the lukewarm water quickly turned cold. The water heater had quit. I called my service provider and they said they could come Monday. Monday? No hot water until Monday?

A friend of mine came over and pushed the reset button for the water heater, which was all it needed the last time, and sure enough, it started working again. In fact, the water was boiling hot. Apparently, the service company reacts more swiftly to boiling water than cold water. They agreed to come the next day.

The dish man hadn’t showed up by almost ten, so I called the 800 number to see what was going on. While I talked on the phone, I headed down the hallway and almost stepped on a snake. It didn’t matter to me that it was a harmless, ring neck snake—a snake is a snake. My reaction: I screamed, backtracked, and started telling the guy on the phone and my friend that a snake was IN MY HOUSE. If I’d been by myself, I might have just moved out until the snake was removed. The way it was, my friend put his foot on the snake to keep it out of the nearby bedroom, and I brought him an oven mitt to pick it up.

“How did he get in here?” I asked.

“Probably that little crack under your storm door.” I had left the entry door open. Oh, yeah, Jim installed that storm door after he had dementia. He wanted to angle it slightly, but couldn’t understand that he was angling the bottom of the door the wrong direction. I finally convinced him to leave it straight so that we had a small crack instead of big gap.

It’s been quite a week, this week. A lot of action and reaction going on, for sure. Today, I’m relaxing and watching the snow come down. It’s hard to believe I was wearing summer clothes earlier this week. My reaction to the snow? At least a snake won’t be out in this kind of weather.

Copyright © March 2011 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Set My Heart on It

With only twenty-four hours in a day, I don’t get nearly enough done. I move from project to project trying to keep one step ahead of the next deadline. I have so many things that I have my heart set on, that sometimes, I just mentally flip a coin to see which project can wait—or be cancelled.

This weekend, I hustled to get a bundle of stories to the post office, and headed to the lake to watch my youngest granddaughter cheer at a basketball game. It was fun to watch her shake her pom-poms and chant cheers through a megaphone. My grandson played with his cars on the bleachers where the grownups watched the game and, of course, the cheerleaders.

After lunch at a Mexican restaurant, I decided that while I was in the neighborhood, so to speak, I’d drop in on my brother at the nursing home and see my mom at her nearby apartment. I called my mom since she doesn’t just sit at home, in case someone wants to drop by. She assured me that she would be home soon. Rather than wait at her house, I decided to make use of the time to visit my brother, Donnie.

“My roommate needs help,” Donnie said when I walked through the door. His strokes have interfered with his speech, but he was sitting in his wheelchair, bright eyed. He certainly looked much better than he did a few weeks ago when I visited him in the hospital. At the hospital, he was so miserable that he just kept saying he wanted to die.

“Okay, I’ll go get someone,” I told him.

When I returned to the room, he looked at me and said, “Who are you?”

“I’m your sister, Linda,” I said. Donnie is nearly blind so I knew it wasn’t that he didn’t know who I was, he simply could not see me well enough.

“Oh,” he said. When the aide came in, she mentioned that Donnie’s light wasn’t working. This started him on a rant about everything that wasn’t working in his room: the nightlight, the door that wouldn’t shut on his closet, and his opinion of housekeeping for not fixing everything.

“I’ll tell them,” the aide said, making her exit when she realized Donnie was past teasing and had become angry.

“I can’t walk, can’t move my arms, and can’t fix the things that are wrong. They haven’t even turned my calendar,” he said. Sure enough, the calendar with giant numbers was still on February. I flipped the calendar and sat down on his bed.

Now that he was a little calmer, I told him how much better he looked. I asked him if he was eating and he started telling me about refusing to eat the “pre-chewed” food as he called it.

I knew what Donnie was talking about because Jim’s food was eventually “mechanically softened” and later pureed. It never looked appetizing, and I told Donnie how my niece referred to Jim’s “mystery meat” when we couldn’t determine what kind of meat it was.

“Are they giving you regular water now too?” I asked.

“Hell, yes,” he said. “I told them to leave that thickening out. That stuff just made me thirstier.”

That reminded me of when Jim strangled and choked too easily and his liquids were thickened. I always thought that his thirst could not be quenched and felt bad that he couldn’t have his big travel cup filled with ice water.

After our visit, I hugged Donnie and told him I wouldn’t stay away so long next time. “I want to spend more time with my family,” I said.

“Family is the most important thing,” he told me. “If it wasn’t for mom and my brothers and sisters, I would just give up.” He wiped tears from his eyes with his left hand, the one he uses the best.

By the time I left the nursing home, the soft rain had changed to a torrential downpour. I didn’t let the rain delay me from visiting my mom and merrily splashed through the puddles of water on her walkway. When I set my heart on it, a thunderstorm and downpour won’t even slow me down.

Copyright © March 2011 by Linda Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/