Hard to talk about
nipntuk
Not sorry for myself, as I have nothing to feel sorry about. I've been graced
with so many great opportunities. But I'm tired and sad. Watching my friend
struggle is a heartbreak. He has a favorite pair of pajamas, with little 'Jolly
Rogers' all over them - skulls and crossbones... Pirate style... Night before
last, he was hallucinating so much that he appeared to see them coming alive -
was terrified, trying to beat them back, screaming hysterically and nothing
could convince him it was okay. He was too escalated to try to take them off of
him, and if it wasn't that, it would have been the bad men in the shadows who
attack his feet, or whatever other specters his deteriorating brain conjures.
He 'sundowns' now, nightly. The term refers to the phenomenon of people with
Alzheimer's becoming very agitated and escalated as twilight approaches. It
begins at around four each afternoon, and goes on into the evening, becoming
more and more severe as the sun disappears. We've tried a number of different
things - keeping him stimulated, keeping him quiet, removing objects from the
environment, redirections and distractions... Nothing seems to help much.
A couple nights ago we surrendered to the addition of yet another medication,
knowing that the trade off is likely more confusion and cognitive challenges.
The rock meets the hard place.
This morning a visit with his neurologist was depressing. The Dr. said that in
early December, if anyone had asked him how long the time line until Mr. L.
becomes bed-bound - considered as entering the terminal phase - he would have
said he felt it was 'considerable', but given the rapid and precipitous declines
we've seen these past five weeks, he now says it will not be long. He says that
there are only so many things that medication will help, and we reviewed the
plans for how we'll handle the next phases of the disease - home nursing to try
to prevent skin breakdown, then home hospice care. He confirmed that we are well
into stage seven - the last stage of Alzheimer's.
Earlier in the week my ex, at my urging, became his guardian. Thank God for
this, as we'll be able to emplace his advanced directives, which will spare him
the prospect of months - maybe years - of pointless lingering after he is unable
to command his body, swallow food, or recognize anything in his environment.
When he becomes unable to swallow, we will let him go peacefully.
In some respects, I feel some guilt about mourning him before he's gone. He
still has some periods when he's contented and enjoys his time, little pieces of
his identity that still remain. And he may be at this phase for some time, we
just don't know.
I've had to become supremely organized in terms of meeting his physical care,
and still keeping the other ends of life afloat - and I'm increasingly tired
before my day's off the ground. But I wouldn't trade this time away for
anything. I finally have the support of the entire interdisciplinary team around
me - all the junior social workers have finally come to Jesus, and seen that Mr.
L. is exactly where he belongs and that nothing should come between he and his
family at this time in his life.
I suppose I should do a victory lap about that, but somehow I'm just not
feeling celebratory about anything.
The new medications will buy us some good sleep though - he needs it more than
I do - though I'm sure the other guys will be pleased to have some relief from
the midnight upset as well. Maybe after a few consecutive night's sleep (knock
on wood) I'll regain a little more positive spirit. Hope so.
It's Deb's birthday today, and though I was able to get out and pick up a cake,
and a few presents, it's just hard to muster much enthusiasm, and I think she
feels a bit cheated, as there's no way we can get away for a dinner out, as I
know she'd like very much. I'll be doing my best to make up for it with a couple
tenderloins and trimmings. I couldn't do this without her help - I know that too.
Just need to unload a little, I guess. Thanks.
SandyG
Hang in there, Steve. I think Mr. L. has been very lucky to be under your
care for so long. You not only care for him - you LOVE him. That is, as they
say, the greatest gift of all.
--
- Sandy
"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of
the light." - Dylan Thomas
F.H.
Steve, other that the physical toll its taking on you, I see a lot of
positive in this. Of /course/ you're going to mourn him before you lose
him, thats nothing to feel guilty about. If you look a little deeper
I'll bet its just an intuitive preemptive strategy to soften the blow
and make sure you don't fall apart when the /others/ need you.
Hang in there and try to get some rest. Opt for awe and humility over
frustration and guilt.
Charlie M. 1958
> Just need to unload a little, I guess. Thanks.
Feelings are feelings, and you just have to feel them. It sucks
sometimes, but in the long run it beats the hell out of the alternative
we all know so well... the "escape" of the drug.
You're doing the best you can, and that's all you can ask of yourself.
One day at a time.
JoeRaisin
I think Sandy picked out the important part. Just think how things
would have gone for him had he been with someone who didn't care.
The future may not be so bright, but you ensured his recent past was the
best it could be.
So as you mourn for him, now and later, just remember that and know that
you guys are the ones that made the important difference, at a time when
there was still a difference that could be made.
Take care.
Ted H
>> Just feeling incredibly down the past few days.
>>
>> Not sorry for myself, as I have nothing to feel sorry about.
>> I've been graced with so many great opportunities. But I'm
>> tired and sad. Watching my friend struggle is a heartbreak...
>> Just need to unload a little, I guess. Thanks.
>
> Steve, other that the physical toll its taking on you, I see a
> lot of positive in this. Of /course/ you're going to mourn him
> before you lose him, thats nothing to feel guilty about. If you
> look a little deeper I'll bet its just an intuitive preemptive
> strategy to soften the blow and make sure you don't fall apart
> when the /others/ need you.
I think Frank has a good point here. I'm reminded of a recent
article from a fellow who cared for his wife through her death to
cancer. He found that after she died much of his grieving had
already been completed. Steve, it's worth the read, I think.
http://www.fatcyclist.com/2010/01/26/the-problem-of-happiness/
Hope your ability to maintain grace under under difficult
circumstances continues unabated. Peace.
--
Ted H.
nipntuk
F.H.
Thanks Ted, for the link. Its a keeper. Interesting, the last couple
paragraphs reminded me of my attitude towards my drinking adventures:
"For the past little while, it�s been a strong reminder of what was a
darker and more difficult time than I�ve ever told anyone. I�ve wanted,
lately, a break. To have fun and concentrate on telling jokes. To stop
thinking and talking about cancer."
mgh
"nipntuk" <car...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:frKdnU5RcbhOf_HW...@forethought.net...
Dude...
Scorpion love. :)
peace
mgh
Tim and Lisa
"mgh" <mgh...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:hkkv2a$ank$1...@speranza.aioe.org...
What the heck is scorpion love dang it? ;o)
Chronocidal Charlie
It of no consequence Shabby Goy, so long as yew *peopled* that booth
properly today with a spirit of unconditional luv 'nd giving of yer time
'nd labors. ;-)
Hope you guys had a gud'un. Any piktures?
CC
nipntuk
Tim and Lisa wrote:
> "mgh" <mgh...@hotmail.com> wrote:
>> Dude...
>> Scorpion love. :)
>> peace
>> mgh
>>
>>
>
> What the heck is scorpion love dang it? ;o)
Just some new aged glop... ;-)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahimsa
I left a gear bag on the ground overnight outside my truck, down in Q. Roo.
Next day, I stuck my hand down in it to feel around for a dive mask, and got
stung by something on my thumb. When I shook the bag out, there was a bark
scorpion crawling around in it, and I thwapped it with a fin, smooshing it daid.
I realized that I had another choice, which was to just flip it into the bushes.
The scorpion was just being what it was, and it was as much my fault that I got
stung as his. So I wondered about my impulses, and mused later on the NG about
my hopes of improving my nature and becoming someone who might one day not
impulsively kill the beastie, but save it.
Michael then engaged in a deep and convoluted sideways rant with Gary about the
vacancy of such new-aged drivel, to which I took great offense, considering that
I draw my beliefs on pretty old-aged drivel. So we squared off and there was
hair pulling and screaming, and Michael tried to scratch my face and even tried
to put my eye out with her mascara brush, but eventually the little bitch was
brought to submission, and she was forced to put up a website honoring my
spiritual supremacy, rather than blow me. http://scorpionlove.com
At least, that's how *I* remember it. Michael, YMMV...
:-P
F.H.
Saw this and recalled the Scorpion thread. Scroll down to parable 101,
"Fate is in your hands."
Tim and Lisa
"Chronocidal Charlie" <c...@chronocidal-charlie.me> wrote in message
news:yP2dnfcaF5sF2PPW...@giganews.com...
Naw it got rained out Charlie we drove around and around then asked the
paeking attendent across from the Santa Ana police department and the lady
said it was canncelled. ;o( So we just carried on....;o)
Tim
mgh
Hey!!! STFU! Every time I put my shoes on I shake 'em out and say ...
"Bitches better get the fuck out, Nip's not here to save you now!!!" But in
truth you'd be proud of me. Why the other day I was butt nekkid and suddenly
sharing the shower with a spider. I caught the bitch and even attempted to
put the bugger in an abandoned web above my office door. Dumbass crawled out
and did a head plant then scurried under the door frame in a gap near the
floor.
New and improved... for the memories:
http://scorpionlove.com/
peace
mgh
Chronocidal Charlie
> sharing the shower with a spider. I caught the bitch and even attempted to
> put the bugger in an abandoned web above my office door. Dumbass crawled out
> and did a head plant then scurried under the door frame in a gap near the
> floor.
Spiders sufferen frum PTSD is apt to do strange things.
CC
Sharx35
"Chronocidal Charlie" <c...@chronocidal-charlie.me> wrote in message
news:_vmdnTOvPePhXvLW...@giganews.com...
As in aggressively bite.
>
> CC
nipntuk
Hehehehe..... I gotta say that watching a few little spider-lings grow
behind the speakers of my desktop 'puter a couple years ago, unmolested
until they became a meal for another, bigger arachnid critter was kinda
neat.
My friend is in a relatively quiet mode at the moment, so maybe I can
squeeze in this little story, as the mini-site reminds me...
You've prolly seen the pics from back in the big-hair dayz of the
late-80's, early 90's. My guitar player at that time was an Yngwie
Malmsteen emulating, Flying V-wielding prima donna, who also happened to
have a sister who was a Shotgun Willie's Dreamgirl (
http://shotgun-willies.com/ ).
So the Scorpions happened to be coming through town, doing an arena show
at McNichol's. Their road manager, as was SOP at the time, dropped
several VIP passes on said guitar player's sister and her stripper
cohorts, and the sister asked for Guitar player to come up with an
escort for she and her 'friend'.
Happily, I was summoned to be the escort for the friend. One can imagine
the sense of resignation symptomatic of the impending demise of my
marriage at that time, when the wife didn't blink an eye as I explained
to her that I was going to be spending my evening backstage at an arena
show with a stripper...
I took it as a clue that the evening was going to be a little wild, when
sis came bounding down the long stairs in front of the arena with passes
procured from the will-call window, and came popping out of her body
stocking right in front of a cop. She tee-heed, placed her money-makers
back in their spandex nests, and winked at the cop.
Sis's friend was a total knockout - centerfold looks that made
'dreamgirl' an understatement. Honey blond with a perfect, petite body
and tanned complexion - all of about 22 years old, green eyes... I was
on a roll of excellent good fortune.
We made the mistake of entering the venue through a public door, as the
place was filling up, causing us to have to go against the grain of the
crowd on our way to the elevators which would take us to the hospitality
room under the arena. As we pushed into the stream of sweaty, hairy
headbangers, hands flashed out from the passing crowd, groping at sis
and friend in ways that shocked even Guitar-boy and I. We understood
that being 'escorts' actually implied that we might have to *do*
something... Horribly, much to my revulsion, I was forced to embrace her
in a 'boyfriend wrap', drawing her close until we safely reached the
sanctuary of the elevator. It was awful...
We hung out with the other VIPS until showtime, then made our way to the
light board from which we took in the show. The show was typical 90's
schlock - Lot's of posing, runway slides, stock guitar work,
three-chords-and-a-hook... When it was over we headed back to the
Hospitality Room for the meet and greet with the band. Guitar-face and I
got into a deep conversation with Meine, Jabs and Schenker, talking
business while sis and friend got into a deep exploration of the band's
supply of powders and potions.
Klaus Meine was a tiny little guy - surprisingly so considering his
stage presence. That's about the most impressive thing I can say I
recall about our meeting. At some point the rest of the crowd filtered
out, leaving just us and the band, still hanging out and shooting the
shit. After a point, there's just so much small talk that can be passed
between rockers - especially when the more successful of them has done
the fifteenth show in a thirty date tour and really just wants to get on
the bus and crash. But the girls were having oh-so-much fun, and didn't
want to go - hoping for an invite to the bus, which was heading west to
SLC, and had no shuttle service for bimbos back to Denver, post shagging.
Ultimately, we were able to communicate to the babes that the generally
married members of the band were not going to put themselves in jeopardy
of charges being filed as a result of sexually exploiting semi-conscious
bimbos by loading them on the bus for a mobile, interstate tryst (it was
the 90's, and the lawyers were running things by this time), that they
were there pretty much for eye candy whose primary function was to keep
the groupie mystique alive and well.
The band loaded up and pulled out of Dodge, and we delivered the
strippers, unmolested, to their doors at around 3 am.
Though both Guitar-Breath and I were clean at this point, neither of us
had achieved the evolved state of sainthood which I currently emanate.
In other words, I would have done the Dreamgirl in a heartbeat. But my
luck had run out, and I think they were more interested in doing each
other. So it goes.
Scorpion love, indeed.
I was not blown, nor were any scorpions harmed in the typing of this post.