Thundersnow

We knew the storm was coming and needed to plan accordingly. Although the amount of snow on the ground was deceptively light at 6:40 a.m., the time I usually leave for work, the forecast warned that this was just the beginning of a long day. I stayed home deciding I’d rather be snowed in than out. Having been caught in both situations, on my last year in the working world, I have no desire to put my car in a ditch.

I do believe the nearly foot of snow was more than expected. The snow fell at about an inch an hour, and to make it more interesting thunder rumbled. The thundersnow fell, fell, and fell. I started measuring with a ruler and the last time I sank it into the ground, a mere inch showed. Then it started sleeting.

The intense snowfall brought the world to a screeching halt as banks, shopping centers, restaurants, and other businesses sent employees home. Interstates and airports closed. So many cars were stranded that in Kansas City, they towed them off by the hundreds in order to clear the highways.

Thundersnow is rare, and a little bit weird. In a normal thunderstorm with rain, thunder can be heard for many miles from where the lightning strikes. Snow acts as an acoustic suppresser and the sound of thunder can only be heard for two to three miles.

When we wake up each morning, we expect the usual, and we can be caught off guard when the unusual happens. The unexpected can strike at any point in time. It can come in the form of a phone call, a text message, a medical test, a bulletin on TV, or a knock on the door.

Hundreds of mundane days can be shattered with one nanosecond of the unusual. We can often chunk our lives into sections based on moments when our world tilted and never quite righted itself. One of those times in my life was when the doctor told us Jim had “dementia of the Alzheimer’s type.”

When you hear news like that, your ears start to buzz, as if they can’t bear to hear the unexpected information. Your heart quickens, and you stop breathing as your brain echoes with the words it refuses to process. Denial, hope, and despair wage a battle to see which one can get the upper hand.

Jim always said, “I don’t have that.” He preferred to think the psychiatrist was inept. It turned out that Jim had a rare type of dementia. It wasn’t Alzheimer’s, but it was just as bad, with the same inevitable outcome.

Not a day passes in this world without someone struggling to live through an impossible situation. Globally, 156,000 people die each day. That is a lot of grief to go around. In order to live a happy, normal life, we often harden ourselves to suffering if it does not affect us personally.

On the flip side of the death card, we celebrate the births of 350,000 babies each day. Of course, some people have more cause to celebrate births than others do. Babies born into poverty, although loved, may be a worry to his or her parents who struggle to provide basic food and shelter. Through the joy, every parent is afraid that something will go wrong. Our instinct is to protect our children from the cruelties of the world, but that is a goal set up to fail. Too little protection puts them in danger, too much can make them vulnerable. Births and deaths while unusual in our personal lives are daily occurrences when we look outside ourselves.

What does the future hold? No one knows. The future is both as unpredictable and predictable as the weather. Weather is never an exact science. Yes, sometimes we can be warned of the possibilities, or probabilities, but what will really happen can be a different story.

This morning I saw two opposing predictions for the storm expected on Sunday. We can have another ten inches of snow, or a thunderstorm with rain. In either case, it is expected to come in the night, so it’s anyone’s guess as to what Monday will bring. Will it be a normal workday, or another weird day with thundersnow?

Copyright February 2013 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Alzheimer’s Future: Research or Palliative Care

I’m a baby boomer and I know just how old we are getting. This year I plan to retire and hope to have time, finally, to enjoy all the activities I’ve had to put on the back burner or reserve for a few weeks of vacation. What I don’t want in my future is to be brought down by Alzheimer’s as we know it today.

Alzheimer’s disease would rob me of my memories, my skills, and effectively end life as I know it. I want to remain active throughout my old age and still have the ability to enjoy life thoroughly. I want to be like my mother!

We are nearing the crossroads with Alzheimer’s as we baby boomers age. Left unchecked, 13.8 million of us can look forward to developing Alzheimer’s disease. I don’t think there are thirteen of us who want this future, much less 13.8 million.

Why is this important to us? We all want to think that we will be one of the lucky ones without Alzheimer’s in our future. The biggest problem is we are not investing in preventing Alzheimer’s. We seem to be sitting on our butts instead of doing something about Alzheimer’s now.

Do you know how much this country invests in Alzheimer’s research? Last year the National Institutes of Health invested $606 million in Alzheimer’s research. That seems like a lot of money, doesn’t it? In fact, for Alzheimer’s it was the first time research funding from NIH exceeded $500 million. Should we be doing a happy dance? Not so fast. How much will it take to find a cure for Alzheimer’s? Just to give it some perspective—NIH spends $6 billion a year on cancer, and $3 billion for HIV/AIDS.

I know we have a budgetary crisis, and I really think we need to do something about it. In 2012, the cost of Alzheimer’s care totaled $200 billion, including Medicare and Medicaid payments of $140 billion. The cost of Alzheimer’s care is expected to increase 500% to $1.1 trillion by 2050 as we baby boomers age.

Think about these staggering numbers for just a moment. I’ll admit that I have trouble wrapping my head around numbers that start with a “b,” much less a “t”. If you look at Alzheimer’s from strictly a financial viewpoint, you have to admit that something has to be done. The only logical way to stop this impending financial disaster is to find a cure, or at least treatment that will halt the disease before it destroys independent living.

Are we ever going to accomplish this goal without investing in research? That is a question we need to ask our legislators, and it is one we do ask each year during our Capitol Hill visits following the Alzheimer’s Advocacy Forum.

For a moment, let’s put all talk of financial considerations aside. The bottom line in this entire argument is the emotional impact on those diagnosed with dementia and their families. Alzheimer’s is a life-changing event from which there is no turning back. It takes strength and determination to continue with quality life for persons with the disease, their family, and friends.

Though my volunteer work with the Alzheimer’s Association, I’ve met many people with Alzheimer’s and caregivers who manage this devastating diagnosis with dignity and courage. They have allowed news media into their homes to bring awareness. They don purple sashes, talk to their legislators about the disease, and leave a sense of urgency in their wake. Advocates with the disease give a face to the 5.4 million Americans who are living with Alzheimer’s right now, right here, in the United States.

So when we talk about the future of Alzheimer’s, we need to push, and push hard, for a cure, not palliative care for 5.4 million people today or 13.8 million in 2050.  Each life disrupted by Alzheimer’s is one too many. Our loved ones are not statistics—they are human beings with families that love them and memories far too precious to lose.

Copyright © February 2013 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Fighting the Paper War

For the past two days, I’ve been fighting the paper war and though I’ve won a couple of minor skirmishes, I cannot say that I’m anywhere close to winning. It seems that I have bags, boxes, storage tubs, file cabinets and various temporary containers chocked full of paperwork.

I’ll be the first to admit that I get totally aggravated with myself when I can’t find an important piece of paper. When I’m being good, I file things away, or at least put common papers in their designated spot. On most days, I throw my mail on the end table and may or may not look at it, much less sort it.

Considering how hectic my life is, it makes perfect sense that I work in organized chaos most of the time. I put one project aside to work on another with a shorter deadline. I shuffle bags containing my writing group, Alzheimer’s council, Walk to End Alzheimer’s, Sedalia Business Women, Business Women of Missouri, and writing projects. Sometimes, I feel like throwing everything in the air and working on it randomly.

Yesterday, I tackled some of the various boxes marked “go through” which means I got tired of looking at the paper, didn’t have time to sort it, and just gave up and boxed it. So tackling one of those boxes has to be on a day when I don’t have anything else to do…or not. That day hasn’t happened yet, so I just decided to take a slice of time from pending deadlines to look at the waste products from past projects.

I sorted into two piles—keep and throw away. After a while, I became more hardened to what I felt like I could just toss. I threw away memories along with many of my creative efforts. When in doubt, I figured many of the papers were stored on a thumb drive somewhere.

Tossing, sorting, and examining documents was going quite well until I came across Jim’s Safe Return application. Then, the world seemed to stand still for just a moment as I recalled filling out the form. That piece of paper was a reality check. If Jim wandered off, he could become lost and need help to be reunited with us.

The part of the document that brought me to tears was the location of his tattoos. I knew one was on his left wrist because he covered it with his watch, one was on his thumb, and another on his shoulder. For some reason, I had trouble remembering just which shoulder was tattooed with his name. I could always picture the tattoo in my mind’s eye: “Jim” obviously a homemade tattoo. It looked like a prison tat, but in Jim’s case, his cousin Joe did the honors when they were young.

When I first met Jim, I didn’t believe he owned a shirt without the sleeves ripped off it. So I saw the tattoo the day I met him, and nearly every day of our marriage. So why did I have this mental glitch about which shoulder?

While fighting the paper war, I found a document that confirmed the tattoo was on his right shoulder. Of course, it was! I’m sure I knew that all along.

Some memories are painful, but I’m thankful that I have them. With all the millions of memories running through 100 billion connectors in my brain, it is no wonder that some of them are hard to find. It might take something to jog that memory and bring it to the forefront. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

With the discovery of the Safe Return application, I decided the paper war was best left on hold for me to return and fight another day. It only goes to show that among all the worthless pieces of paper we hang onto, sometimes a gem exists among them that freshens a memory from a different time and place.

Copyright © February 2013 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Inquiring Minds Want to Know—Is It Really Alzheimer’s?

L.S. Fisher, Alzheimer's Advocate

There are two kinds of people when it comes to health issues—those who want to know everything and those who want to know nothing. One group falls into the category of die-hard realists and the other is filled with those in denial.

There aren’t any simple answers when it comes to health. A visit to a physician can make or break your day, and sometimes your spirit, depending on how he presents your health issues. But even more important is how you interpret the diagnosis you are given.

Getting an Alzheimer’s diagnosis is a long and arduous process. An entire battery of tests, scans, and evaluations are used to determine if you might have a treatable condition. Once other conditions—thyroid, drug interaction, vitamin deficiencies, too much calcium—are ruled out, your physician may give you a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s.

Hundreds of other related dementias exist besides Alzheimer’s. Since Alzheimer’s is the most common cause of dementia, it is the usual diagnosis. As the disease progresses, the type of dementia may become more evident as frontotemporal dementia, Lewy body disease, vascular or other common dementias. Some conditions can be determined by genetic testing—familial early onset Alzheimer’s or Huntington’s, for example.

For millions, the exact cause of dementia remains unknown or is determined by autopsy. We chose autopsy to get an exact cause of Jim’s dementia, which turned out to be corticobasal degeneration. Since Jim was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and not too many people know what corticobasal degeneration is, it is easier to say he had an Alzheimer’s type of dementia.

Currently, in the news is a discussion about a drug that allows a PET scan to detect Alzheimer’s plaques. The controversy is whether Medicare should pay for the $3,000 test. Opponents to the test say that it won’t help. I was floored to see the quote in the national article was from a physician in my hometown. The quote: “There’s never been a study that asked whether patients do better as a result of florbetapir testing,” said David Kuhlmann, a neurologist at Bothwell Regional Health Center in Sedalia, Missouri.

Okay, we all know there is no cure for Alzheimer’s and treatment is for symptoms only. Because of the bleak prognosis, no one seems to see a need for an accurate diagnosis. But early diagnosis is crucial in irreversible dementia for several reasons. First, it is important for a person with dementia to make important life decisions while they still can. Jim and I both signed advance directives, durable power of attorneys, and wills. Had we owned more, estate planning would have been even more important. Second, treatments are more effective in the early stages of the disease.

Putting aside all reasons for a diagnosis, and how it could actually help, there is the matter of cost, and Medicare needs to avoid unnecessary expense. So, this test costs $3,000. Expensive enough, I’d say. I’m going to throw out a ballpark figure of $20,000 to complete all the testing to attempt to rule out Alzheimer’s. In our case, most of that was paid through private insurance, and out of pocket, rather than Medicare.

Once we ruled out other conditions that could cause reversible dementia, we purchased expensive drugs that had no effect whatsoever on Jim, other than side-effects, because he didn’t have amyloid plaques. Of course, we didn’t know that until after he died. A $3,000 PET scan to find out his dementia was not Alzheimer’s, as diagnosed, could have saved many more thousands on drugs and costly emergency room visits.

I can think of a lot of scary diagnoses and can narrow down the ones that would make me take stock and reevaluate my entire life and lifestyle. Alzheimer’s type of dementia, cancer, and heart disease would be at the top of the list. I would only hope that if I were ever diagnosed with any of those three, I would be a realist and want to know every treatment available and evaluate my options to have the best life possible.

I’ll admit that Alzheimer’s, or any related dementia, scares me the most. I’ve seen it, felt it, and breathed it throughout Jim’s journey. Through my volunteer and advocacy work, I’ve met many people with Alzheimer’s and their caregivers who face the diagnosis with grace and unbelievable courage. An Alzheimer’s diagnosis affects not only your body, but your skills, communication, and a lifetime of memories that connect you to your loved ones. Have you ever thought about how empty you would feel without memories?

Isn’t it important to know what is wrong with our health, so we can either make it right, or at least do what we can? 

Copyright © L.S. Fisher, February 2013

www.earlyonset.blogspot.com

Being a Caregiver Isn’t What You Do, It Is Who You Are

In Memory of Jim

Being a caregiver to a loved one who has dementia isn’t a job that anyone wants, and yet 15 million Americans fill those unpaid positions. This army of caregivers is made up of various friends and relatives who battle the around-the-clock attention that a person with dementia requires.

The Alzheimer’s journey is a long and complex route. It begins with small lapses and glitches that can be overlooked or explained away. It is easy to be in denial that something major is going on, and you just tend to muddle through each day as it comes.

By the time, the symptoms become more obvious, you go through an entire battery of tests to rule out any diseases that can be treated. As in any diagnostic process, you will go through highs and lows. Some physicians will analyze the tests results and give you different answers. One might say, “It’s low blood sugar and as soon as you treat that, the symptoms will go away.” Another might say, “Get your affairs in order while you still can.” Throughout the early diagnostic process, the caregiver shares the anxiety, the fear, and the loss with a loved one. Later in the disease, the caregiver bears those anxieties alone.

When your loved one has Alzheimer’s or other related dementia, caregiving becomes an all- consuming responsibility. If your parent has Alzheimer’s, you find that your roles have reversed and you feel like the parent. If it is your spouse, you miss the special bond you had and find your love changing from a reciprocal relationship to one where you expect nothing in return.

Most people look at a caregiver and think he or she is a person who feeds, bathes, toilets, and watches over the person with dementia. They see the physical side of caregiving as the overwhelming responsibility. They see a caregiver who looks exhausted from the physical demands and lack of sleep. They may even understand the mental strain of trying to keep a loved one safe: taking car keys away from someone who has driven for many years or installing special locks or alarms to keep them from wandering away and getting lost.

What the outsider cannot see is the pain and stress that threatens to overwhelm the caregiver’s soul. They cannot see the inch-by-inch losses that make each day a new challenge. They cannot see the inner strength that keeps the caregiver going against all odds. By this point, the caregiver knows that there is no cure, no effective treatment, and no hope of survival for her loved one.

The outsider may wonder, why bother? It’s a losing battle. These are the same people who won’t go to visit because, “He doesn’t know who I am and won’t remember if I’ve been there.” Hogwash! People with dementia might not be able to say your name or even recognize you, but they know when someone cares enough to spend time with them, bring them a milkshake, give them a hug, or even make them laugh. No, they don’t need anyone visiting who is going to resent spending time with them or who upsets them. Someone who cares enough to learn how to communicate with a person who has dementia is always a welcome visitor.

After Jim’s disease progressed and I couldn’t provide the kind of care he needed at home, people used to ask if Jim knew who I was. Jim was silent the last few years of his life, so I wasn’t sure whether he remembered my name or that I was his wife. It actually became irrelevant. What he did know was that I came to see him every day and that I loved him. It wasn’t important that he remembered me, but that I, and the rest of our family, never forgot him.

Studies show that the hardest part of being a caregiver is grief. A caregiver’s grief is insidious, sneaking up and attacking unexpectedly. For a caregiver to remain healthy, he or she needs to find solace in the fact that the person with dementia is taken care of physically and showered with love.

Caregiving with love isn’t what you do, it is who you are. You owe it to yourself, and to your loved one, to keep the faith that live is good, but some of us have bumpier roads for our journey.

To vote for Early Onset Alzheimer's blog in the Healthline best health blog CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE VOTING SITE. You can vote once a day via Facebook or Twitter. Contest ends February 15, 2013. Early Onset is the only Alzheimer's blog in the top 10. All votes appreciated.

Copyright © January 2013 by L.S. Fisher

www.earlyonset.blogspot.com

Friendly Reminder Friday

Sometimes with our busy lives, it is hard to remember all the tasks we have to complete in a day. Personally, I have so many calendars that one of my major challenges is to remember where I wrote the latest appointment or event. Even my cell phone has a calendar, Quick Office, One Note, and a Task list. Still, I can manage to forget things big and small, important or trivial, must do or wishy-washy.

I can understand how people forget to vote for Early Onset Alzheimer's blog in the Healthline contest. The contest began December 21 and runs until February 13. I got a late start since I never saw the email until the contest was well underway. We rose rapidly through the ranks and I was thrilled to make it to the top ten since it's easier for people to find you on the first page. The blog skyrocketed to 2nd place and we stayed there for quite a while. Then, other blogs started getting hundreds of votes each day and we've dropped to 3rd.

A lot of people voted one time and thought they were finished. Others kept forgetting to vote or couldn't find the link to vote when they remembered. Some of my family and friends tried to vote on their phones and just couldn't get them to work

Early Onset Alzheimer's blog has more than 100 visitors each day. I realize that some of you are already voting, but a lot aren't. Voting has to be done via Facebook or Twitter and many of you don't use either.

If you want to vote, and don't have a Facebook account and don't want to open one, you can easily open a Twitter account. All you need is an email address. Just go to www.Twitter.com and you can open an account in a matter of minutes. You can go to the contest link and vote. Who knows you may even have some fun with it!

Consider this your friendly Friday reminder to vote for the only Alzheimer's blog in the top ten! To make it really easy for you to vote, just CLICK HERE to go to the contest voting site. Once you are there, click the "Vote Now" button following Early Onset Alzheimer's blog. Then, a few things might happen. It might ask you to sign into Facebook or Twitter again and if you are already signed in you can just X out of that. You may be asked to choose Facebook or Twitter. You may have to scroll around on the screen to find the different options. Then, it will ask you if you want to post to your timeline. You can type in a message and post to your timeline to encourage others to vote. You will get a message that says, "Thank you for voting" and you are done.

You can vote once a day, and your vote is greatly appreciated!

copyright (c) January 2013 by L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Sometimes You Just Have a Bad Day

When I first met Jim, he was twenty-two years old, played a guitar, and sang country songs. He heavily favored Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, George Jones, and other old time country greats. Jim had a knack for hearing a song once and being able to sing it perfectly. It never ceased to amaze me that he could learn lyrics so effortlessly.

In the eighties, we began to take annual vacations to the Rockies. One day we walked into a shop in Estes Park where they were playing a version of “Happy Trails” that obviously was not Roy Rodgers and Dale Evans.

“Who is singing that song?” Jim asked the owner of the shop.

“That’s Michael Martin Murphey,” she said.

It was love at first sound for Jim, and Michael Martin Murphey became his favorite singer. His repertoire now included “Ghost Riders in the Sky,” “Tumbling Tumbleweeds,” and other cowboy songs. One day, he started singing an obscure song, “I Ain’t Had a Good Day” about a cowboy whose day was so bad he was ready to shoot anyone who got in his way and then kick dirt on them. After dementia robbed Jim of the lyrics to many songs, he could remember that one.

Yesterday, I thought about this song. I had a frustrating day at work and on my lunch hour, I checked on the Healthline contest and was dismayed to see that my blog had dropped from second to third. Although my voters rallied, we kept losing ground. Since Early Onset Alzheimer’s blog had been in second for quite some time, I kept noticing my voters voting for the second place blog…which was a different one than they intended.

The day wore on, just getting worse on all fronts. I was about to the meltdown point when the workday ended. I was the last one out the door and saw the day’s mail still on the shelf. I thought I had time to take it to the post office and still make it to my granddaughter’s basketball game.

Okay, had I not taken the mail, I wouldn’t have been on Broadway at all. I left the post office, fastened my seatbelt, drove the correct direction on the one-way street, stopped at all stop signs, signaled my turns even when no one was around, stopped at the light and made a right turn onto Broadway driving the speed limit. Obeying each and every law as far as I could tell. So why did the city police officer turn on his lights? Yep. He must mean me, so I found a side street and pulled over.

“Ma’am, you were driving on the white line,” he said. I must have had a blank look on my face because he said, “The one on the right side of the street.”

Okay. As I dug out my driver’s license and insurance card, I told him, “I’ve not been having a good day.” And now, it just went from bad to worse. Getting stopped for driving on my side of the road, what’s up with that? Was he afraid I was going to mess up the paint job? If they had those little rumble strips, I’d have known I was touching the white line.

“I’m going to accept this insurance card although it’s expired.” This whole insurance card thing annoys me. They can check everything else with your driver’s license, why can’t they put insurance info on their computers? I’ve had insurance with the same company, without a single lapse, for the past forty years. So why do I have to keep changing those cards?

After the delay, no ticket, I made it to the ballgame on time. All parking lots were jam-packed. I found a back parking lot, which not only was full, a truck was blocking the road out of the lot. Now, he deserved a ticket! I was able to drive off the pavement to get out of the lot. My first break of the day happened then as someone backed out of a parking place.

Once I was inside the gym, I found my son and daughter-in-law. I couldn’t help but repeat the words Jim so often sang and greeted them with, “I’m telling you friends, I ain’t had a good day.” And, I sincerely meant it.

Copyright © January 2013 by L. S. Fisher

www.earlyonset.blogspot.com

Just a Test

I grew up during the cold war era, and it wasn’t unusual to be watching TV and see a test pattern pop up on the screen and hear a shrill tone scream an alarm. When I was a kid, my heart would thud in my chest if I heard the tone without the preamble, “This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System.” I always felt relieved when at the end the words, “This is only a test” were repeated.

Eventually, the rules changed, and the EBS was used to warn of impending natural disasters, and in our area, that would be tornadoes. I didn’t get the memo about the new use for the notification system. The first time I heard, “We interrupt this broadcast,” followed with a tone that could make a dog howl, I spent thirty long seconds imagining we were going to be a nation of crispy critters as soon as the nuclear mushroom cloud radiated us. I was one darned happy kid to find out it was merely a tornado in a different county.

Of course, tests later caused a different kind of anxiety. I always over-studied the material to make a good grade on tests. I hated to miss any questions and a B just wasn’t an acceptable grade. The problem I found with knowing the material so well is that sometimes I would miss a question because of a nuance that made the answer technically incorrect. It seems that other kids just skimmed the surface and marked it, but I would know that part of the answer was wrong.

Not long ago, my daughter-in-law and I were discussing the answers to a quiz, and I discovered that she was a lot like me when it came to analyzing multiple-choice answers. We tried to figure out why a teacher would give two answers that could technically be right, but expect the student to decipher which answer she expected. One question had to do with what you would say to a new mother who had cut down on cigarettes. One answer was to tell her “It is good you cut down, but you are probably still getting nicotine.” Because of the word “probably,” we knew that had to be the wrong answer. Wrong! That was the teacher’s choice.

Now, most of the tests I have are medical tests and you can’t study for those. It seems that the older I get, the more determined physicians are that they can surely to goodness find something wrong with me. By the time they poke and prod, take a few vials of blood, and run tubes with little camera down my throat or up my ahem, I don’t stand a chance. Sure enough, they always find something. What happened to the days when I felt pretty darned good and was blissfully unaware that things were falling apart on the inside?

When Jim started having memory problems, our family doctor sent him to a psychologist, who in turn sent Jim for a battery of tests. The results of those tests proved to be a turning point in our lives. I knew Jim was having problems, but the tests showed he had dementia. He couldn’t do simple math, count backwards from ten, or name any words that began with the letter “a.” Jim had done a good job of covering his deficits, and I was shocked to learn about the problems he had with abstract thinking.

Jim became part of a study for a Phase III drug. He was tested during each follow up visit with the neurologist. They let me stay with him during the testing.

“What season is it,” the nurse asked.

“I have no idea,” Jim replied.

“Did you wear a coat today?” she asked as a cue.

“Yes.”

“What season do you think it is if you are wearing a coat?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital.”

“Do you know what city this is?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t come up with a name, but was confident he knew where he was.

“Do you know where the stamp goes on this envelope?” She handed him an envelope.

“Right there,” he said pointing to the upper right hand corner. He gave me a look, like he thought she might be just a bit stupid to not know where the stamp went.

It was a test, right? Just a test. So why did it bring tears to my eyes?

Early Onset Alzheimer's blog is in a contest for the Best Health Blog of 2012 with a $1,000 prize. Currently, I'm in the top ten out of 300+ blogs. You can vote via Facebook or Twitter daily between now and February 15. Please remember to vote every day because your vote really counts! Click on the Vote for me button on this page.

Copyright © January 2013 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Paying it Forward

During the holidays, you hear many heartwarming stories about people paying it forward. McDonald’s and Starbucks have had a person pay for the next car, and that person, in turn pays it forward too. Chain reactions of generosity have been known to last for hours. It is really cool to hear about these fast food pay-it-forward lines, and it helps restore faith in human kindness and thoughtfulness, but real pay it forward heroes are those who make it a way of life.

Volunteering is the best way of paying it forward and is one of the reasons that people volunteer. There may be a few glory grabbing volunteers, mostly high profile people, who show up for an event or catastrophe for a photo op. But those are the exceptions. Most volunteers fly far below the radar, doing their best to give more to the world than they take.

Some people admire volunteers for doing what they don’t feel like they have the time to do. The thing I have noticed is that the busiest people make the best volunteers.

What makes a person volunteer? It could be an internal desire to help others, but often a major event spurs us to take action.

I am a prime example. At one time, I never volunteered for anything. I figured my life was busy enough with a full time job and family to take care of. I was fully aware I didn’t have time to volunteer for anything and when I got pulled into helping, I wasn’t always the most cheerful or willing person in the group. Sure, I wanted to do a good job, but often my heart just wasn’t in it.

My entire attitude and outlook changed when Jim developed dementia. The more I learned about the disease, the more motivated I was to do whatever I could to help. My first true heartfelt volunteer work was our local Memory Walk. I jumped in with both feet and spent countless hours strategizing how to have a successful walk.

Since then, volunteering has become a way of life for me. I only volunteer for causes and organizations I believe in—and only for tasks I think I can complete, and complete competently. If it falls out of my area of expertise, then I decline because I don’t want to bungle the job.

Acts of kindness for another, without thought of how it can benefit you, is paying it forward. All you have to do is look around for opportunities. Do you have an elderly neighbor who needs someone to help with yard work? Do you know a caregiver that needs to run to the store, but needs someone to watch a loved one with dementia for a short time? Maybe you know the server at your favorite restaurant has financial problems, yet she serves you with a smile. What if you left her a $50 tip instead of $5?

Recently, I saw a post on Facebook, that said, "Taking this challenge from a friend: 2013 Creative Pay-It-Forward. The first five people to comment on this status will receive from me, sometime in the next calendar year, a gift—perhaps a book or baked goods, or a candle, music,—  a  surprise! There will likely be no warning & it will happen whenever the mood strikes me. The catch? Those five people must make the same offer as their status.”

My immediate reaction: “I’m in!” I reposted and now I have five friends that will probably forget all about this. They are going to be pleasantly surprised to receive an unexpected gift, and I will have the pleasure of deciding what and when.

Paying it forward isn’t about big things at all, it is about little kindnesses to brighten someone’s day. It isn’t about getting a pat on the back, it’s about just doing what feels right in your heart. Paying it forward will help the giver as much as it helps the person who receives.

Copyright © January 2013 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Foggy Friday

There’s something about this time of year, when a little rain mixed with unseasonably warm weather produces fog. I’ll admit I’m not a big fan of fog. For one thing, it’s a little spooky to be driving along and hit a heavy patch of fog. For some reason this always seems a little bit like driving into the Twilight Zone. Makes me halfway expect to hear strange music and to see Rod Serling, dressed in a suit and tie, standing alongside the road ready to hint at what’s really going on in the depths of the thickest fog.

Fog scares me, especially since the night I was driving along a gravel road after a visit with Jim at the nursing home and hit fog so thick I couldn’t see anything. I stopped and with trembling fingers dialed my son’s phone. I was afraid someone would come along and ram into me.

“If you can’t see anything then surely no one else is driving either,” he said.

While I sat there waiting for the fog to lift, I couldn’t help but think how Alzheimer’s is like a fog blanketing cognitive skills. Sometimes, fog just drifts in and out, but other times, it halts us in our tracks.

After a few long moments, the world became visible and I could see the road. I drove to my son’s house. When I worked up the nerve to head on home, he still thought it was risky for me to drive, so he led the way. His taillights were like beams shiny from a lighthouse directing me to safety.

You can be that beacon for your loved one when the fog is the thickest.

Early Onset Alzheimer's blog is in a contest for the Best Health Blog of 2012 with a $1,000 prize. Currently, I'm in the top ten out of 300+ blogs. You can vote via Facebook or Twitter daily between now and February 15. Please remember to vote every day because your vote really counts! It is easy to vote—simply follow the link below and click on the "Vote Now" button next to Early Onset Alzheimer's. If I win, I will use the prize money to fund attendance of my 13^th consecutive Alzheimer’s Association Public Policy Forum in Washington, DC.

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