Gratitude November 22, 2015

It is only in the last 10 years or so that I have begun to feel truly grateful. Before that I felt entitled. Certainly not by being born white or Jewish, or the daughter of Holocaust refugees. But I felt that the good things in my life came to me because of my efforts. Either my parents or I had worked hard to achieve them or to deserve them.  I felt I was the passive recipient of good genes. I earned good grades in school. I learned how to be a patient and kind teacher and a listening psychologist. I read and worked hard at being a good wife and a good parent.

On the other hand, when hard times occurred, disappointments in relationships, or jobs or when I experienced losses, I had the feeling I was being punished for perceived failures. By not living up to the standards that were set for me, I had let myself and others down and consequently had "earned" the failures I encountered.

I also never believed in luck. I can't gamble; I am too afraid of losing.

And since I was born on the cusp of the Second World War, I studied about God and learned the language of the prayers and observed the rituals of my religion, but I never trusted in a personal God who would be there to help me in any way.

So what changed?

I was faced with a problem that could not be fixed by my efforts or anyone else's efforts. The fact that my husband developed Alzheimer's disease could not be attributed to any fault of mine, to any misbehavior or lack of concern, love or effort. His illness was not a punishment to him or to his family or to me. It just was.

Alzheimer's disease transformed me, made me realize how lucky indeed I am and how we are not in total control of our lives. Even though I exercise and watch my weight, I am grateful each day to wake up healthy. I am grateful for the sun when it shines and for the rain. I am grateful for my children and grandchildren who are healthy and thriving. I appreciate  my friends wth whom I can share a meal or an event, a greeting or a conversation.Thank you for being there.

Thanksgiving November 20,2015

Remind me, folks, lest this dinosaur forgot. Why  did the Pilgrims designate this day of celebrating with the Native Americans when they had survived the first harsh winter in their new land and harvested their first fall crops?

They thanked their God for what? Turkey? Corn? Sweet potatoes?

They were grateful they had chosen against all odds to flee the countries that were persecuting them. They had made the difficult choices and had experienced significant hardships not only reaching a new land, but learning new skills, weathering storms and cold to which they had not been accustomed and relating with the people who already lived here.In order to be free.

Where did they flee to?

America

And every so often, since then, we become "isolationist" and refuse entry to others fleeing harsh conditions, persecutions, discrimination, war and death. WHY?

And how do we justify all the Thanksgiving holiday hoopla without welcoming the stranger into our midst?

Life is Good November 18, 2015

Surely, turkeys play a large role in Thanksgiving. Mine will be donated to the food bank and we will have a vegetarian feast.

But most important are the family and friend reunions at holiday time. I am often surprised when I see people I haven't seen for a while. How did they age so much? Have I as well? I guess so, but I recognize the process in others more than I do in myself. That's normal. The changes in ourselves occur gradually over time, just as the changes occur in the people we see every day, slowly. Often we don't see the changes at all. So if you are visiting your parents or older adults, please look carefully.Gauge how they are dealing with life. What is their mood like? How has their behavior changed? Are they more mellow, easier to get along with or cantankerous and moody? Do they need assistance with the tasks of daily living they didn't need last year? Life is good when we can be with family members we love and can care for.

Have the conversation. Which one? The end-of-life one. What do your parents, aunts, uncles, friends, siblings want for themselves as they age and when they die? If you will be responsible, you need to know what they want you to do.

I will be reconnecting this week with folks I have known for 15 years. For ten years or more, the group met every six weeks for a Shabbat dinner in someone's home. We each brought part of the meals.Of the thirteen who were part of the group when we joined it, six will be present. One couple is out of town, which leaves five to be accounted for. One woman retired and moved out of state to live with her daughter and granddaughters. One woman died a few years ago and two men died this summer, including my husband. And one woman moved to an assisted livng home because she has dementia. We will rejoice at being together and by rememberiing the ones who are no longer with us.We'll drink a toast, but it will most likely be grape juice! Life is good when we can be together with friends. 

Recalculating November 3, 2015

We reach crossroads often in our lives, but many of them are "forks in the road." We have two or three options and we need to choose one. What we do changes the course of our lives. In today's fast-paced world, we choose often and change course regularly, which does not stop as we age. 

For older adults that change is often not easy. We are used to the pattern of our lives and of being swayed by life to "go with the flow" without deciding for ourselves what action to take.

I had lunch with a friend yesterday who has a better ieda. She recently lost her beloved husband of the past thirty-five years. He attained the age of 89 in good health until the last few years when he survived a few surgeries and nagging physical problems. A gracious, loving man, he never complained, he kept up his interest in his world, they traveled, they visited with their blended family, He died at home, in his sleep attended by a hospice nurse as his wife slept nearby.

Now, friends and family ask her "How are you?" and she has found the perfect metaphor for her feelings. Just as the GPS in the car responds when you make a change in the direction the car's voice has indicated, my friend replies, "I'm recalculating."

Now, many of her friends are inviting her to concerts, luncheons, dinners and she is quite busy with the  seemingly never-ending financial and governmental details following a death. She is also determined to "clean house" and to part with many things she no longer feels the need to keep. This attention will decrease with time and she, like the rest of us who have lost beloved spouses, will recalclate the direction  her life will take next.

We All Need Support October 11, 2015

Image from https://img0.etsystatic.com/034/2/5862974/il_fullxfull.657925498_qdg0.jpg.

Nothing is more important for the people who are direct caregivers to a spouse or parent who has Alzheimer's disease or another of the dementias than participating is a support group. I found that out for myself when my husband first attended the Day Club, a day program for people who cannot remain home by themselves all day while their caregiver is at work, or those who need socialization. Mostly the Day Club gives the senior caregivers a break in their non-routine, stressful days.

I wrote about being a caregiver in my book Put That Knife Away-Alzheimer's, Marriage and My Transformation from Wife to Caregiver. I am pleased to report that more copies are now being purchased as the customers go to Amazon to find my second book which just got published. The new one is called The Key, the Turtle and the Bottle of Schnapps-In honor of my parents and grandparents who survived the Holocaust. It tells the story through my eyes as I remember what I heard as a child and what I validated for myself by traveling to Europe to discover the path they took for myself. Readers will see how the title's objects were very vivid to a child hearing these stories repeated as each new relative or friend came to our apartment to see my grandparents.

When I was a child, our milk was delivered every morning  by an Alderney Dairy truck. The bottle you see here is like the ones we received. The milk was pasteurized, but not homogenized, so the cream rose to the top of the bottle. I remember the bottle now as I think about the Alzheimer's Association support group I first attended. We were from 6 to 18 people every two weeks. We came from various parts   of the country. We were of all different ages, mostly women, but a few men as well, just as the milk in those days was collected from many different farmers from many different cows.

We poured out our stories to each other about the challenges, joys and tragedies we faced on a daily basis. We were nurtured by sharing our complicated trajectories.

Now my journey has ended. Three of the original members of this group whose spouses have also passed away, still meet every second week to share our life stories. Our relationship has become richer and more complex. We reminisce, we mourn, we celebrate our life successes. We are separate from the   rest of the group who continue to share their stories, but we are still very much a part of the whole.

Put That Knife Away October 5, 2015

It is so gratifying to me to receive letters from readers who have been helped by reading my book. Now that my new book is up on Amazon, folks are also purchasing the first one.

So many people know someone who has Alzheimer's disease. It seems to be spreading rather quickly and since no one wants to read about it before they see it personally, the people who are responding now are grateful for the information, but also for the insights into how to care for a friend or a relative who is caring for someone with Alzheimer's disease.

Caregivers have such a hard time. One woman we know from our support group is wishing for her husband's suffering to be over. He does not know what to do or where he is supposed to be. He resides in an assisted living facility, but she is there every day, feeding him, changing him and trying to make herself and her spouse feel better about this longlasting illness.She is ready for him to die, but is making every day he lives as rich and as rewarding as possible.

Another woman feels her husband is "not that bad yet." But he has delusions and accuses her of not being caring enough--of his sisters who presumedly are awaiting her to pick them up at the airport! Unfortunately, they passed away many years ago.He was so upset about her failures that he kicked the chair on which she was sitting. How soon before she is injured?

What can you do when you hear these stories? How can you help? You can text or phone or visit. You can send a humorous card or note. You can help the caregiver to feel less alone. You can invite him or her to your home for a visit or offer to go to the market or do other chores which the caregiver does not have the time or energy to do.

Paying it forward through acts of kindness goes a long way toward helping the caregiver. I know how important it was for me.

What Does it Mean to Be Alone? September 15, 2015

I am blessed by many friends, many colleagues and family members  in New York, in California, in Florida, in North Carolina, in Oregon, in Denver Co. in Arizona and in Montana in the summertime. My husband who had Alzheimer's disease was not living at home with me for the past four years. But all of a sudden, life is so different for me. 

My husband's passing which was neither unexpected nor unanticipated has changed my perspective on life. I am for the first time, alone, really and truly alone. My son who has shared this burden and the joys which accompanied caring for my spouse with me, understands all too well, what this loss means to me. It means almost the same thing to him.

I returned for the first time since my husband died in July to Arizona last week and my son met me at the airport. My daughter and one grandson met us for dinner to welcome me back before I came back to our home, the home we built to be a safe haven for my husband where he could have his garage workshop and his garden and be able to wander freely and safely in our enclosed, gated community.

I never gave up believing that he would one day return to live here. Now that dream can be no more. I threw myself into holiday preparations. I cooked, I even baked a cake which is very unusual for me, to ward off the uncomfortable feelings of Ioss I find difficult to accept. I challenged myself at the gym. I actually published my second book. More on that later. When we read on the New Year holiday that this is the time of year that God decides who shall live and who shall die during the coming year, I remember asking last year, for a peaceful end to my husband's  suffering and debilitation. Gratefully, I thanked God this year for hearing our prayers.

And my dear son decided, I should not live totally alone. I needed another living creature, plants were not enough. He purchased a betta fish whose aquarium sits to my right, to keep me company as I write.