A merry Christmas to all:

My best Christmas ever.

Often people ask about your best Christmas memory and this is mine.
Could not ever be duplicated no matter how many Christmases I will live to see.

Christmas Eve 1944
Gent, Belgium

I am 12, mother is 34. She is recovering from a major surgery and a husband who has left her for another woman just a few months ago.

We are finally liberated , we in the north welcomed the allies in September.
In the Southern part, in the gorgeous mountains, hills and forest another battle is in full swing. It becomes to be known as the Battle of the Bulge.
Our gorgeous Ardennes are being mutilated. Worse hundreds of lives if not thousands on all sides of this horrific war are falling in the fresh wet snow.

Mom and I are not aware of this battle, we hear very little of what is going on outside our newly freed Provinces.
We are alone in our very cold house, windows broken covered with lumber,
water rats moved in what used to be our bedrooms.
The roof is shattered in many places from the bombing and air raids.
The wood/coal stove only produces so much heat as we huddle around it
covered in blankets.

Mother is lonely; she is sad, alone for this Christmas for the first time since
her marriages of 16 years. She is still feeling ill. War had not made her
skinny, she is a full fleshed Flemish woman like you see in Rubens renditions.
She lived on potatoes and onion gravy; we are yet to see some meat coming
in our tables but for the grace of the few Americans who are helping us.

So this brave lady who was together with her little family in grave danger all
through the war is now struggling with a new reality. She had been the radio
communicator with the Brits in her bedroom. She was fluent in the language,
thanks to a good education and was my father’s right hand in the underground fight
of what we called “the white brigade”.
She had welcomed the soldiers who parachuted in the night and gave them
clothing and food for the next stop. She had sent her only child to school when
she was wondering if a new air raid would come today, eliminating the factory
and the village. She never knew what the day would bring.

That first Christmas eve when all around us was changed and yet nothing
had changed at all. We were still seeing planes come and go over our heads and
we still saw the air battles, we did not know for sure how far the Germans were and would
they return? In our hearts however we felt that all was going to be fine.
We had hope for the first time in what seemed eternity.
With this in mind Mother decided we should spent Christmas Eve at her sister’s house in town. That was 9 km away (almost 6 miles).
The excitement got a hold of both of us and with enormous energy and good cheer we left the old stove to warm up the rats and started our journey along the
cold waters of the Canal of Terneuzen.

We had walked this foot path for years, I think we knew where there would be a dip in the dirt and mud under the fresh snow, we knew where a large stone would stick out and how to avoid falling in that narrow strip next to the canal.
Next to it was the bicycle path but that worse in need of filling the larger holes.
Even in the dark night we knew our way.
I can still see the cold fog over the water, piercing cold in our bones.
My shoes too tight. I was always growing too fast and my feet were the
first to show the signs.

We started to sing , she could sing , I could barely keep a tune.
But we sang with our vocal chords in full orchestra mode and in the silence
we go from “the Yankees are coming” to “Belle nuit de Noel” and “Petit Papa Noel “.

Along the canal there was only industry, we lived in a lonely little house about 100 yards from an electrical plant. Most plants at this point where not working, almost all had been bombed. The silence along the water was eerie, as the little bit of snow would fall intermittently. Now and then an army truck would drive by on the road and soldiers would yell “Merry Christmas”, some had other messages too.
First time we both heard F word, mother honestly had never heard that one at the
convent where she had studied. She was very puzzled, what did it all mean?
Very few Belgians had cars at that point, perhaps a few doctors.
Only army was on the road, day in and day out.
We were used to that but these camouflaged tanks were a much loved sight.

By the time we reached the blown up bridge of Meulestede we crossed the canal on a makeshift bridge and started to walk between the streets lined with houses.
Here and there one could see lights and the cozy interior of people celebrating.
Mother stopped and told me to look and listen with my heart at the sights and sounds.
“You know Jeannot, she whispered, this is what is called “freedom”.
You see we are finally allowed on the street at night, we are finally allowed to have lights coming out from the houses, that means this is our first Christmas
in many years of total freedom. “
“Freedom means we can now just walk to Tante while watching the stars and
singing, we can peak in the windows and see people with bright lights shining on their faces. Jeannot, never forget this moment”.

I did n’t, I can still see it, I can still smell it, I can feel it in my heart.


Mother was disappointed that we could not get to a midnight mass on our way
but all the churches were still closed. Perhaps no one had wanted to come out
or perhaps the new army had told them to cool it for awhile, I do not know but we passed several churches and no service.

I started to slow down and she found a way of making me go a little faster.
Where she saw light in the houses she rang the doorbell and started to run away.
I had no choice but to run after her and hide around the next corner.
That way we got to my Tante in a jiffy.



I can see the gate at my Tantes house and lights turning on for the
night visitors. No phone to tell them we were coming but the welcome
was heartwarming.

My cousins came out of bed to hug us and I could crawl in bed next to them
tell them about my adventure of the night. No rats here, no damage to their house, they were blessed. I was in heaven close to giggling bodies and it is Christmas.

I do not remember one present given that Christmas, I doubt that we had any
at all but I am still feeling the joy of that night.
The songs come back to me. Belle Nuit.....Petit enfant Jesus.....
Au clair de la lune mon ami Pierot. ................................

Merry Christmas Mom, Tante, wherever you are.

SOap box, always a soap box to stand on

In my previous blog I mentioned going to the Biltmore to see the gingerbread houses.
It was not to be, I got into a bit of a problem with food poisoning.
I am thinking since the going out is limited these days for a lot of people that perhaps the food is not as fresh as we would like.

So now I am back on my soap box.

It occurred to me this week (once again) how hard it is to comprehend mental illness.
How little actual help is around when you do not have the money for a psychiatrist by the hour or a counselor for that matter.
Clinics are over run with clients and paper work.
How many people have insurance which covers this.
I do hope that Pres. Obama will be able to bring some changes into that health picture.

If we had cancer or a heart surgery you would see everyone at your door trying to help.
Seeing how you are doing. How you are progressing.
This does not happen with mental health.
In many instances you are ALONE. Alone with your pain, alone with your depression, alone with perhaps some meds prescribed by a general doctor who knows nothing about mental health except tp give out the Effexor, Lexapro, Ritulin and the likes .
My son , for instances, can't get help at the moment.
He has is on disability, thanks for that, we had to get a lawyer for him to qualify.
If he had not a home to be in where would he have landed?
Possibly on the street where a lot of these afflicted are today.

My son has severe panic disorder which turned into agoraphobia.
He has been locked into the house for 3 years now.
Does one think for one moment that this is a pleasant experience?
He can walk about 1 block with his dogs and quickly returns.
The safety is in these walls but nowhere else.
He has a car, he pays the insurance , the taxes etc....on the vehicle and he can't use it.
The hope is always there for one day just to drive away.

Problem with the people around him and know him is that he is considered by many to be lazy. I have to admit on bad days I am thinking that too. Until I examine the whole picture.
He is 35, a widower who lost his wife 6 months ago. He is in mourning for a great partner.
He is afraid to go out of the house, he is very lonely, he is in a depression, his father does not know him anymore and calls him "that man".
Would anyone want to be in his shoes?

There are days that he hardly speaks and other days that he is a fountain of information.
He is extremely bright , has been tested twice border genius. He also has ADHD like his father has.

It is easy to look at the physical being. A young,tall, nice looking healthy (?) man.
Why is he not doing this and that, why ? People ask this of him but they do not see
the agony of anxiety which is debilitating.
They can't see the pain he is in , no bandage is in view, no tubes coming out of his nose, no hair falling out from chemo. Just invisible pain which takes away every day from a young life not being able to live to the fullest.
Would you think that is being lazy?

I have to rethink that every once in awhile , in the meantime I search for a healer who does is able to help and not a quack as we have seen one already.
We have to find someone who comes to the home and listens to him.
Most physicians I called and he called do not want to have home visits, they want to meet either at a restaurant or library. Hello? Are you listening? He has agoraphobia, if he could make it to the library he would not need you!!!!

In the meantime he is a great help just by being in my home while my husband deteriorates with Alzheimer. He is here 24/7 and gives me time to go out and play with his sisters.
He gives me the time to have a lunch outside.
I am grateful for him being here BUT i truly hope he can be healed very soon, even if he would have to leave here and go back to school or work , I would jump through hoops.

Posted this on www.trusera, the site for all varieties of illnesses , breast cancer, autism, lyme disease, Alzheimer, dementia, arthritis and so on. Check out the site it is well worth it if you need answers from people with the experience.

Well, I had a good week all things considered.

I was fairly calm and composed so I did not argue with husband about the unable to see people I had to chase out of the house, the bed arrangements which he does not like because I am a stranger,the food he gives to the dogs and should n't......etc...etc...

I was a good girl and stayed calmer than usual. I had more support this week and was out more so I contribute that composure to my "time out".

Saturday daughter Rhonda got me to the big city of Asheville and we checked out shops and new restaurants. I managed to laugh quite a bit. Tuesday I had daughter Sabrina to take me shopping for groceries and goodies while we had a nice dinner with sushi. That girl can make anyone smile, she has a gift.

I am taking, stealing actually, all her energy and fill upl ike I am a big SUV and just put her rainbows in every little corner of my being. So I was truly in a very good mood on Wednesday and called her to tell her that she should come over every other day so I can "recharge". She did not see it that way, most of all her husband and her son did not see it that way.

OH well, c'est la vie.

In any case, I am so lucky that I do have people who will come around and make me smile if not giggle out loud. Sometimes even a belly laugh. Give me the laugh lines any time, they are nicer than the worry lines in my forehead.

If all goes well I may even be able to see the ginger bread houses at the Biltmore, a yearly contest of gigantic proportions with cooks from all over the USA competing.

How much fun will that be?

Who makes it possible for me to have that time out? My son who now lives with me and puts up with a lot from his father who calls him " that man". My son is hurting because he adores his father and he is getting truly a very bad treatment from him right now.

From my entry in www.trusera.com
the site which deals with health questions.

Thanksgiving a new tradition this year as I mentioned before I had given up on doing the cooking and gave away my dining room table. Fate had other ideas as son moved home and has agorophobia so back to the drawing board and family coming together in my house.

We managed very well, the Limoges dishes sat in the cupboard untouched and happy that this year they would not be knicked. Some of the kids even did not use glasses and drank from the cans. We all picked a seat in the kitchen or a tray and a lawn chair and it looked more like a summer picnic than my usual fancy decorated table. For some reason it did not bother me at all. All I wanted in the house was some laughter and friendly noises.

I was delighted with the whole set up and the girls did the clean up. By 9 pm you could not tell that we had a small crowd of 9 all with full bellies. My menu had been requested as their old Belgian favorite "carbonade Flamande and Fries" , I call them Belgian fries.We did invent them you know.

When I do this mixture I use up 15 lbs of Fries , fry them twice. So daughter surprised me and came in with 16 lbs all peeled and ready cut. The rest was a piece of cake.

The same scenario will have to be for Christmas eve but I think I can do an encore and we will have the same fun. I can't possibly go away and leave my son alone in the house , as long as he is not able to go out , we will be with him.

Old dad was confused, of course, he is confused when no one shows up and he tells me to get rid of the people, so there was nothing new on that night but real people.

Black Friday

Went to work at 5 am
Customers at 6? Not a soul. Around 7 some came straggling in.
I did every mistake in the book.
I had to redo every entry, every counting, every balancing.
What should have been done in 2 1/2 hours took me 4 hours.
Mgr. said not to worry she was working on half energy too.

Thanksgiving dinner was great, we managed to find ways to please everyone (I think)
Sabrina had been the hero of the day, she joined me early in the morning and
had already peeled and cut 16 lbs of french fries, we finished almost all of them.
Little left for lunch today.
Then she vacuumed my bedroom and changed the room around.
I never change furniture but she loves to do that.
I am pleased with it all.

Ankles very swollen so today is a couch day.
Do not know why the endema is back, big time.

Tomorrow Sabrina will take old dad for the day so Bobby and I can have respite.
Glad, for that while I will visit Rhonda and if feet permit will run around downtown Asheville a bit.

Happy Day

Happy thanksgiving day to all of you.
I can't wait till tonight when all 9 of us will be here
and making fun noises.

Tomorrow I will pay for this season, I have to open the store at 5 AM
Not so funny last year we had 2 ladies walk in at 6
every one is at Walmart.

This season lets all try to dig in our pockets even if they are empty, there must be something that we can give to the less fortunate. So many people have little to celebrate today.
But a new day is dawning so lets KNOW next year we will all be better off.

http://www.itakethevow.com/

DOG STORIES

It is about 6 weeks that we lost Toto. I can't remember having so much grief before, hate to admit it but I think the shock was so much to me that I can't think feeling this hurt with people in my family going. That is pretty bad, I thought, but since then I have found others who experienced the same pain.

How in all sincerity can we even thinks that? I don;t know. All I know is that I hurt so badly that I had to find a way out. So then I decided on a new puppy. Mind you I kept telling myself that I was not replacing Toto. All I needed was to hold a furry little guy. I wanted the same temperament and then natch the same breed. I called the Humane Society if they had a Maltese and they did n't, but then my son said not to get a rescue dog as I am too emotional in my situation and what if the dog would become sick? what would the rescue dog bring along?
Start with a puppy , he advised, you can train it the way you trained Toto.
It's a little over a month that we acquired Bijou(thank you again A) so now I have the furry little white ball.

So what happened in the month? Where am I, where is Bijou?
I soon learned that I had been lying to myself. I did want to replace Toto. I wanted the understanding we had for 4 years. I wanted the puppy to follow me everywhere and protect me like Toto did. I wanted Bijou to know what I was thinking just like Toto always knew.
Poor Bijou. He is so adorable and he turns his head sideways when I talk to him, it seems to me that he is asking :what are you talking about old lady?
Make no mistake he is a little jewel but as young as he is I have competition.
He also belongs to Carwen, the Corgy, she washes him, she teaches him how to play tug war with their toys. He falls asleep cushioned against her, he does not come (yet) to beg me to hold him.
He is the baby for Corgy. They are so cute together.
Now Toto did not have any of that. He came into a very quiet household with just one kitty who he adored and she learned to like him. The only play when he was a puppy was with the kitten if she was in the mood.
I bought him toys and he never liked them. Never took one in his snoot, he'd look at them and then at me as if to say "what do you want me to do with that silly thing".
Itried different textures but all were denied by his majesty.
Bijou can't have enough of them and has the stuffing flying about in no time.
I am now wiser and following instructions on TV about the dog man and his techniques so I am determined to have Bijou listen to me when I give orders! (yes I can do that)
At 3 months I read their adult brain is 90 percent present.
By 5 months he will be approaching adult height as he is a small breed.
So I am hoping that Carwen will let him go and that I will have a great relationship with him for as long as I have time around here.
I have learned that I can't replace Toto even if I wanted that so badly but I am also learning that here is a new little guy full of joy , vigor ,kisses, and bites. He does make my days a lot more pleasant.

Pictures on the wall

From my post in www.trusera.com :

About 5 years ago I read that we must keep showing photos to the ones who are beginning to forget about the family. The dementia, Alzheimer patients.

I showed album after album to my husband and he still had some recollections of our trips, his brother, his sister. Then I purchased the kind of stick on cabinets photo frames and put them on the kitchen cabinets. A view of the whole family every day.

I have watched Bob look at them often, in past years he would smile, put a kiss on his fingertips and onto his favorite people, the ones who had already left us.

He would smile at our picture in Hawaii even so he did not remember the trip anymore but to see us together smiling being happy gave him joy.

For the last few years this too has vanished , he often looks at the pictures but no signs of recognition for anyone.

Even himself he is not sure off, he is the last one he vaguely knows. He will point at the photo and say "Is that me?" I answer in the affirmative and then say "this one here is me, Jeannot, your wife" . He turns from the photo to my face and shakes his head. He does not care he goes back to his cup of coffee.

I said to my daughter that I will take the photos down, I think they are now a stage of frustration. He must be wondering who are all these people and he does not have a clue.

My daughter suggested that it will make my kitchen look bigger. Even she who knows me so well and loves her dad so much, she does not have a clue what day to day living with A. truly is.

She thought of the look of the kitchen. She did not see him when he stares and stares at a photo, she does not see the daily changes and this is what is so hard with mental illness.

Unless you are 24/7 with someone you just can't know.

A friend of mine with the same situation packed her bags and sent good old dad to her son for a week. She simply said: You have to find out what it is I am dealing with. Her son begged her on day 3 to come and get dad. She took her week off and stayed in a motel reading books and eating out.

Bad times, good times

As I review my blogs since last year I am thinking how very sad they are.
My one daughter can't read them because they are making her upset.

So I pondered about this for awhile and thought that I should start to write upbeat stuff and be very positive and even cheerful.

OK, tried that for a few hours, maybe even one day.
But guess what? The title of this blog is coping with Alzheimer.

It is not a blog about my last dance and I looked charming like the woman on Dancing with the Stars, forgot her name already (senior moment)
This is not a blog about my latest recipes.
This is not a blog about my next trip nor is it one of the latest movie I saw in a movie theatre or a live show.
It's not about my dentist visits which I keep postponing, not about my the "golden years". Who in the h......called them "golden"?

So I am a bit bitter tonight.
Had an hour again of trying to tell somebody that I belong in this house, that he has a son in the other room.
He knows nothing of this except he knows he has paintings and tomorrow he will open a shop and sell his paintings. That much he knows.
He gave our son a long discussion about HIS house and son being unwelcome and my son just answered "you are killing me dad, you are f.....killing me".
My heart broke (again).
How can I write upbeat , pleasant times as a caregiver?
If you know, please tell me.
I have tried so many ways but come back again and again that this "sucks".

Thanksgiving

Sometime during the year I made a very big statement.

Told the kids "no more Thanksgiving and Christmas parties at my house, I am done cooking".

I followed it up with putting my nice dining room table along the hedge on the road with a sign :"FREE". It was gone in 20 minutes.

I felt relief. After all, how many years was I the chef and could never cook enough. I always thought an army would come.I always had to have 3 vegetables, home made bread, 3 different desserts, it never ended. I loved it but lately the energy has left me. Blame the good old thyroid.

Then son moved back home when he lost his wife and he has agorophobia, big time, he can't leave the house and under no circumstance will I leave him alone in the house on the holidays.

Add to this that old B. gets very upset in daughter's house.He is better at home.

OK , now what?

Bring out the pic nic table and the garden chairs and start cooking......one more time ....Happy Thanksgiving to all of you

Photo of the artist and his work

I have been writing so much about my husband and his memory loss.
This is what he is forgetting , his daily painting sessions for all these decades.
Now he does not know the difference between blue and green.
A master still life artist, decorated and named Commandeur in Brussels in 1972
for his trompe l'oeil work, a painting called "View of Infinity" which now is in
a museum in Israel.
So feast your eyes on the Clock painting which took him 5 months of daily work.
It was sold at a one man shop in San Francisco in the then Hartley Gallery.
The lady who purchased the painting told us that one day it would come back to us.
About 12 years ago a package arrived with the painting in question plus 4 others of
his still lifes.
The collector had passed away but kept a promise after decades.
It will go on in the family and will belong to my son.

The artist may be forgetting but what a legacy he is leaving to collectors
all over the world. Even Maria Callas had one his paintings as did Perry Como and
another opera singer who's name is lost in my senior moment.

yesterday

I just could not figure out what was wrong with me.
I got up in a bad mood, black cloud hanging over my head kind of mood.
I can do that in the evening but most mornings I get up feeling somewhat UP.

I do not like this person when she is in a bad mood.
I fight with her. I did not win the battle yesterday.

I did not feel like doing a darn thing that was on my TO DO list.
I did n't vacuum my bed room I did not even put the Roomba to work
I sat and sat and fell asleep, sat some more and fell asleep some more.
I fixed minimum work lunches, like frozen waffles.
I fixed minimul dinner , like macaroni and cheese out of the box and went back to sitting.
Watched a movie, title I forgot, it was a silly one with a man doing a marathon race and finishing it against all odds. It was so predictable an ending that I was writing the script as the movie was rolling.
Fell asleep and then noticed that I had been coughing a lot and that I had a soar throat and a fever too.
Voila, that was it.
I was allowed to be cranky. My body was telling me to slow down.
I am not sure if I know how to.
Son just told me that no way can he keep up with my misguided energy.
"you run here and there, do this and that and then some more, I can't keep up with you "
Maybe, just maybe when I retire next year, 24 working days to be exact, maybe I will slow down and not get up in a bitchy mood.

part two copy from Trusera

Part two on coping with Alzheimer/dementia which was my entry in www.trusera.com

From the beginning of the diagnosis I tried to read everything about this disease. Many times I could not finish the books. When it comes to
the patient being in bed not able to do anything anymore for themselves, choking on their drinks and food, that part I just could not handle, just seeing the words in print made me run for the woods.

Now I am petrified and thinking when will this be our reality?
Next year, next month?
How will I cope then, I am not exactly Florence Nightingale.

So wisdom tells me that experiencing day by day teaches us what to do next. After all this is how I worked the last decade.
I am probably very lucky as so far everything is gentle and friendly.
So many a patients become violent.
It never was B.’ nature but that does not mean that it can’t happen.
I have known such cases.
Did I expect to have to watch the mailman so husband will not be able to hide the bills.
Did I expect to have to force him to bathe and wash him myself?
He was Mr Clean and would shower 3 times a day if he felt he needed it.
Did I expect to have to beg for rides to the grocery store and the drs.?
Did I expect that one day he would not know who I was?
Yes, I thought I was prepared for that one and ..........I can assure you
that I was n’t.
Did I expect him to tell me to get out of his bed? his house?
Did I expect have to hide some of our little small treasures?
We are still in the dark on what he did with a Netske collection.
Did I ever expect him to not know the difference between an
etching and a woodcut?
He was an expert on them.
Did I ever expect that this man who painted every day of his life
would not be able to tell colors, not be able to draw at all?
That was probably the hardest reality, when I told him to put
the bottles in the blue bin for recycling and he asked:”which one is the blue one?”
The man was decorated in Europe for his trompe l’oeil paintings.
He had dozens of one man shows from San Francisco ,Marbella Spain,
and so on.
Asked him to draw an apple and he scribbled some lines and what is worse
he thought it was an apple. Did I ever expect to see that?
Did I ever think he would call our son, his most beloved child, did I ever think he would call him “that man in the house”?

When the man at the Alzheimer meeting told me that nothing will be the same anymore, did I ever comprehend what was going to happen
in spite of what I read? No , I was in denial for everything because
it is too much to take in, too much to break your heart and your spirit.
You do your best one day at a time. If that day is not so good then you will try and do better tomorrow.

I am thinking of all the parents on Trusera who are dealing daily with autism in their lives.
I have seen it first hand in our family. It is hard, it is difficult, it seems at times to be too much to handle. But they do it sometimes one hour at a time.
These are the cards we have been dealt and we must play out the game with all the rules.
On that note I will also say that my Asperger afflicted grandson is an absolute genius and a doll.

VISITOR FROM D C

I am one tired bunny after getting up at 5 30 for work.
Lucky I did get a ride home, I hated to think to walk home.
A long time friend from DC came by for a short visit so we do
get some of the Beltway gossip.
Unfortunately he will miss the inauguration as he has to work a show
in San Francisco.
I did think that I would fall asleep during his visit but I managed to
be entertained by my own voice and my own stories.
What a drag that must have been.
I think it is hard for the occasional visitor to see B. and to know that
he does not remember them.
Bijou made a hit and so did the other dogs.
Sale at work was behind yesterday, hope we made up for it today.
One never knows right now what store may be suddenly closing or
filing chapter 11. Even QVC is having major lay offs.
I will be happy to leave at the end of the year, I am very tired but then
how will I be with being home 24/7 and no conversations or people
to just talk to about something besides Alzheimer and the loss of people
we loved.
I watch stupid TV shows and son asks me why I even look at this and my reply is always : because this show is not truly real (even reality shows) and because for 30 minutes I am involved with that screen and not anyone else.
A friend of my son bought Bijou a Santa Suit, he looks precious in it.
The Corgy wanted it off so she started to pull on it, we did manage to save it.
I have to get photos with that.
Goodnight, do not let the bed bugs bite.

Chicken Soup

Amazing what it means to me not to have a full night sleep.
Shop has a 14 hour sale that translates into me being there at 7 am.
Moi is not a happy camper.
Came home and took naps all day long.
Bob wakes me every 10 minutes to see if I am "well".
He does not understand naps.

After Thanksgiving we start holiday hours and then it gets worse.
It is 7.00 almost every morning.
Our Florida office does not understand our logistics, we sell to
little old ladies for the most part. They are not coming in at 8 am.
They have the whole day.
Neither do we offer such big bargains for the first hour or so, it is an all day sale.
Lord knows we have enough stock as does every shop in the nation.

I was blessed with a dear friend surprising us yesterday with a yummy
chicken soup. Bobby has been ill for a couple of days and I am thinking the chicken soup will help him. He loved it even so he usually picks out veggies,
he did not do it this time.
Friend A. if you read this, it was a winner and I have left over for lunch tomorrow so I will just crash for more sleep after that.

I do not see any changes yet with the thyroid meds. Do not know how long that will take. But in an American living style we do want things to be fixed RIGHT now.

Old Bob had hid my purse last night and at 6 o clock I just could not find it so
went to work kind of wondering where it would be.
I still have not found my hearing aids which he hid 2 years ago (=$2600)
I think I would still be looking except for the fact that I took my nap on top of the bed and looked up to find my purse hanging on the poster bed wrapped by my jacket. Life is interesting in this household.

Got to go to bed. The early morning hour will be here soon enough to start counting money for Mr. Stein.
Oh Mr Stein sent me his usual diploma looking piece of paper thanking me for a job well done hence my employee of the month bonus.
I did well, I was there 3 years and got one every year plus the employee of the year.
I would patmyself on the back but for the fact that we are not that many employees and they have to come up with a different person every month, so no biggie. The employee of the year is by vote of everyone and that was swell (as we used to say)
Goodnight Blogger Fairy.

Ari would be 33

Ari would have been 33 tomorrow.

She was my daughter in law and left us in May from an accidental overdose.

She mixed over the counter medicine with her own. Sleeping pills mostly.

My son moved in with me and is in a depression. They were married 7 years and very much in love.

Both of them had mental illness to deal with but for the life of me I do not know where our mental health system is, this rich country with all the answer (so they tell us) has very few answers and ways to get mental health restored. Not enough places to go when you do not have the money, not enough clinics to keep you should you need prolonged help.

Ari had her master degree in psychology but could not help herself. My son suffers from panick disorder and agorophobia.We had to drug him for the trip back home.

Ari will be remembered by many. For years she worked in group homes and helped hundreds of people, she went to Raleigh to get financial help for them, she was a fighter in a system which is inadequate. There were times the group home did not have enough money for groceries and she would feed them out of her own pocket.

An only child left her mother in so much grief that she too left us with a major heart attack. She was 56.

I am concerned over my son 's well being during the days which no doubt will remind him of what he lost, again and again.

I miss her, I was a second mother to her. She was always very kind and loving to me. At her age she did more for humanity than most of us will do in a long lifetime.

Rest Ari, rest and watch over B.

Thyroid problems

As a caregiver I hear all the time the same mantra:Take care of yourself or you will become ill.

That sort of lands on deaf ears, I have always been the bunny that keeps going and going.

Lately the "going" has been deminished to 2 or 3 hour naps in the afternoon. I feel exhausted most of the time. I resigned at work as of Jan 1, thought it time to retire. I need the funds but not the exhaustion.

So last week Sunday it took me 6 hours at work to accomplish what I do in 3. As an auditor I have to balance everything before I can leave the store. I sat in a daze with a 50 dollar bill and did not know where it belonged. I have done this job for 3 1/.2 years I do it in my sleep. I was so dazed that I just could not think straight and almost fell asleep at my desk.

Doctor thought I may have had a mini stroke. So first test showed that the thryoid was extremely low. Second test for the veins showed that I did not have obstruction of any kind.

Next week comes the MRI. I truly do not think I had a stroke of any kind but the fatigue, no doubt, is from the thyroid. So it is time for medication.

Anniversary

Today is the anniversary of my mom's passing.
It was 15 years ago. She was 83.

I remember on the flight to Belgium that I looked at the stars
and suddenly thought that she would not see the next
daylight. That felt truly weird.

Since I saw her once or twice a year the shock did not
set in. That took some time.

15 years later I still talk to her.
Make no mistake this was not the best relationship.
My mom was strict. Rare were her compliments,
Her greenish eyes would turn grey when she was angry and
you knew there would be hell to pay.
She wanted perfection, she demanded perfection from herself too.
A task master with few friends at the end.
Her friends had left her one by one.
She had demanded too much from them.

She had a hard life in many ways.
Husband cheated on her and left her.
It was not being done in the early 1940's.
She had to start from scratch after a cruel war.
She worked her way up, went back to school to get a degree
as a CPA.
She held her job for decades while men around her were trying
to unseat her.
Her only child left for America.
Her alcoholic father became very poor when his second wife's relatives
put him outside the door after her death, so he moved in with her.
He was not easy, often he threatened her or her friends.
She had promised her mother that she would always look after him.
She always kept her promises. Always.
She did not know the meaning of unconditional love.
Not with me, not with others.
That was a hard nut to crack.

Still I miss her.
She could have let me go with my father and looked the other way.
She could have given up on me, instead she insisted that I become strong.
I am still under her spell.
I just want to please the world.
Confidence is a word that skipped my dictionary.
Hence my children too have lack of that, how could I teach them
what I did not have.
Every franc I inherited from her I had to turn around and around
and wonder if she would have approved on how I spent it.
I am sure she would not have.

She left us without pain.
She just said she did not feel well and she was gone.
4 hours before she had written me a letter.
The last line in the letter says :I love you, mom
That always touches me, I knew she loved me, she cared a lot for me,
she just was still so dissapointed in me.

I should be sleeping .......

When we first met four decades ago I would wake up during the night
and just touch him. I wanted to make sure he was still there.
That he had not left me in the night as I was deliriously happy for the first time in my life.
In the wee hours of the morning I wanted to know that I had not been dreaming
about this warm, fuzzy feeling which engulfed me.

Last night I was reminded of these wake up sessions as I am doing the same thing now.
I touch him, feel his breathing,feel the skinny arm and boney hand.
Yes, he did not leave me, he is still with me and yet hours ago when he had his
"fittles" when he walked from room to room for hours, when again I would have to explain that
I sleep in the same bed, when he opened the doors and locked them again and again,
when I was so exhausted , then at that moment I wondered how much longer I can
take all this.

I beg God then to take me away followed with but who will take care of him like I do?

't is morning now and the sun is coming up, the trees have never given me a display
of color like they are this year. I am ready for world.
Take out Bijou who is learning fast and waits for his walk.
The world looks good, we have a new President, life is good.
't is another day try and rejoice in it.

Voting time

A week or so before the election the important letter came for an absentee vote.
Son and I joked as we know how old Bob feels about politics.
He was a democrat in the womb and I do think that his mother would have put him back if he was n't.

We both sat down by the kitchen table while I asked:
Bob, are you a republican?
The tired eyes took on a different color as he shook his head and said "NO"
while he stared at me. His look was like to say "you know better than that, what a stupid question".

Then I said: "Are you a Democrat?"
The eyes were twinkling and he looked and said with great conviction:
Of course.
Then he added: my mother too.

We filled in the form, sealed it and made him sign where needed.
I said: You are voting for a new President and that is him pointing to the
TV Obama commercial.

Him? was his question. Yup! Him!.
Him? again was the question and again I answered yes.
He looked at us like we were joking.
We assured him that was the man he voted for, a democrat!
He said"very good"!
Just sat there and smiled like a cheshire cat.
I told him all the stories around Obama , where he had been and so on
and he just listened, again said :Very good.

My husband never had a racist remark or thought in the 40 years
I have known him so I know he is well pleased.
Since then he watched the results and the speech and I am sure
that he knows Bush is out (he disliked him so much) and there is a new guy in town.

Would I have voted for him if he did not remember, yes, as I know the man.
He always voted a straight ticket and I voted for the person I liked.
Gave us some time to bicker over it but we did vote that way.
I have power of attorney and did not have to use it in this case but what
surprised me that a member in our family said that this was not
correct.
That he did not understand the policies and did not know what it was all
about. This person is an in law and he does adore my husband so I
was surprised to hear that.
I feel that as long as my husband is here with us, pays his taxes,
has never even had a traffic ticket, born in this country and served in WW2 in the Pacific
should at the very least be able to vote for the party he is registered in
and voted all his life for.