Irrelevent

Almost all the conversations we overhear are because people tend to think that their conversations are the most important words to be said over the phone line ever. Turning down the next lane, you find the same cart pusher on the phone still carrying the phone and the same conversation. The next aisle there’s the same cart, but this time, no talker, oh, wait a minute I hear that cart pusher coming.

The cart is the same conversation walking and shopping. Blocking the aisle, I say “Excuse me,)” the cart doesn’t move. The second time, I myself being tired of this cart pusher said again “EXCUSE ME!} This time when I said that, I was louder and bolder by bumping the cart.

They may be talking about the kids’ school projects. This conversation seems to be the only thing going on in their lives. To all those who stand in a checkout line, and there people you’ve still talking while the cashier is trying to collect their money and people are behind them. I say to you that their conversation is BORING, your talking is RUDE, and it is totally IRRELEVANT to anyone standing in earshot.

If you’ve gotten this far, don’t you think that this was the most irrelevant one-way conversation you’ve heard in a long time???

 

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Mighty

The first thing people might say when they hear the word “mighty” is the mighty Oak tree. It is beautiful, huge, and strong. This is probably the first thing people think of when they hear the word mighty.

Mighty can be a complicated word. For instance, if I said that superman was a mighty man who had great strength beyond that of any other person it would be a reality of TV, someone’s imagination. Isn’t that true for all the youngsters who watch the cartoons and shows that have been on? This is their view of the word “mighty.”

Others may think of Santa Clause as a mighty person that is real. He must be real because he delivers gifts all over the world in one night. I would agree that if any person could do that in just one night he would be a mighty person. He would be mighty even if forgot one house. He would be mighty because he knew all the children, what they wanted, and where they live. Children idolize him and make him into a hero.

Enormous could refer to a statue. Take the Lincoln Memorial, which is huge. No man could lift it by himself, yet people come from miles just to see the Lincoln Memorial and admire it. Perhaps it reminds them of all the things that President Lincoln accomplished during his time of the presidency. It could be that they came to reflect his entire life. From the poor farmer family and rose to the presidency. Those deeds he did in real life may make Abraham Lincoln a hero to some and others may have tried to follow his pattern, his personality, his step into politics. Intellectually he was a mighty man.

I actually shudder to think of the definitions I have read in one dictionary. I can picture the children running out the door screaming all the way home to be comforted by their mother.

When I hear the word mighty I always think of only one personage that I would ever consider huge, gigantic, unmovable, unstoppable, tremendous in power, but is so gentle and lovable that everyone man woman and child looks up to Him, worships Him, hopes in Him, and prays to Him. His title is God, but more than 20 million know him by His own personal name, “Jehovah.”

 

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Lurch

Ever played dodgeball? Well, we played it a lot at lunchtime break in elementary school. That was grades one through six for you youngsters. Now mind you, I was a shy child and always got picked last for any team but I did play and I was good at most sports. Still, my school years were not my best years.

It was me that was usually chosen first in dodgeball. Believe me; it was worse than being picked last on team sports. Chosen first in this game meant being the first one everybody threw the ball at. Oh come on, this meant low man on the totem pole and the boys threw hard enough, but the girls matched and sometimes beat the velocity of the ball.

Here I am in my hand me down dress that I hadn’t grown into yet, and bubble gum still stuck in my hair from the night before. I closed my eyes and just knew that this was going to hurt. The first throw made me lurch forward and I fell in the dirt. The second throw hit me before I got up and somehow landed under my dress. Of course, that made my dress fly up and show my panties which made everyone laugh. Therefore, with a heart full of indignity I took my rightful place in the circle.

I got to throw the ball first and I missed. Even though I was able to regain my dignity, I caught the ball again. When I did anything, I really put all my energy into it and play my best. I guess that can be expected growing up in a family of tomboys, and being raised in a neighborhood of all boys. I had to play tough. The trouble was that while I was a tomboy and could climb trees with the best of them, I still threw like a girl. My turn to throw again landed smack dab in the middle of a girl’s stomach. Noticing that she didn’t even move when I threw the ball, I knew that I was being set up.

Back in the circle again, I lurched to one side and then the other trying not to get hit. The next thing I knew, I was eating dirt again. Of course, that is when the bell rang and playtime was over. I stood up, brushed the dirt off me and once again tried to regain my composure. Once inside I breathed a sigh of relief. Another day of indignity put behind me. I shuddered to think of what tomorrow might bring.

Of course, I wasn’t raised in a good environment growing up. The five of us would have been removed by social services if raised in today’s society. I was picked on a lot by the boys in the neighborhood and always felt as if my heart lurched backward every time I would get a cruel comment. I’d head home each time but stopped crying as I neared house. Unfortunately, I would end up crying before bedtime got there, and even more when I went to bed.

Occasionally I remember those school days. I don’t look at them as being too terrible. I survived into adulthood. When I got into my 30’s, I got five years of therapy. Believe me, once I understood that when a person becomes an adult, they do so by letting go of the past and taking responsibility for the adult you want to be. If we don’t do that, then our childhood continues to rule our lives and we never mature.

 

 

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Shimmer

There was a time I was shy and it was in the childhood years. The feelings within me were too much for me to bear alone, but alone I did bear them. It’s funny that they were so severe that I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. I wanted to die but I didn’t know how to do that. If I could just disappear, I would have been happy. I never could do that either.

Therefore, I grew up anyway. Along the way, there were far too many bumps, I thought. When I grew up and look back at my child hood there were some good times, and there were a few times that I did shine in my own right. Remembering an assignment that we had to do on the spur of the moment, the teacher asked us all how we would act if we found a mouse in our slipper when we got out of bed. The teacher called on each of us in no particular order. She usually called on me last and this time was no different. Each student did nothing but yawned, stretched, put their slippers on, ran and screamed. I am so glad that I was last because I thought the way they were all doing the same thing was stupid.

When finally my turn came around I yawned too, but I also wiped the sleep from my eyes, stretched, and yawned again. I then picked up one slipper put it on and put my foot back on the floor. I then slipped my other foot into the other slipper made a puzzled face wiggled my foot, and then I picked up my slipper, looked in it shook it then screamed and threw it on the floor. My teacher applauded me and said that what I did would happen in a real situation. You had to look to see what it was first. She praised me in front of the class. I did shine inside and out.

This class was on public speaking and I loved it. Another time I shimmered was on an assignment of comedy. We were all to write on a funny way something was invented. I told my dad I was stuck and didn’t know what to write about. My dad said he had an idea. I could write on how the twist was invented. I asked what he meant he said maybe an ice cube had somehow fallen into a ladies dress. I thought about that and since it was freezing cold while it was melting, she turned one way and then other just trying to get the ice cube out of her dress. It finally fell out but not before the kids started doing this new dance. They started calling it the twist and from now on, the twist has been a big hit.

The other kids in the class loved it and the teacher was howling. Of course, I acted like what she might be doing. All were laughing so much. I walked to my seat and had to pass the teacher. I remember her asking me if I had thought of that myself. I had to admit that my dad came up with the idea, but I wrote the story. She had an A in her book, but she marked it down to a B-. I still gleamed that day, so there was another shimmer in my life. I’m sure there were other times I sparkled too. I just can’t think of them right now.

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Casual; has it gone too far?

 

When I was in school, mind you I’m giving away my age, we had to wear dresses or skirts, and boys had to wear dress pants and dress shirts. There were no exceptions, nor were there any excuses. It was automatic that you put them on and it was expected with no variations to that rule. It was the school dress code and girls dresses and skirts could not be above the knee. It had to be just below the knee or longer or you were sent home no questions asked.

As a matter of fact, I was a senior in high school before the code changed. The schools became a little less strict on the matter. They dared to let girls wear pant suits and this was allowed for the girls. Boys dress didn’t change yet. Girls pant suits had to match top and bottom with a blouse if it didn’t cover the below the neckline. The style in that day was that the neckline was covered. I felt absolutely scandalous wearing pants to school. It was utterly unheard of.

The next style to appear on the scene were mini skirts. Oh my goodness! That was allowed in school but it could not be any shorter than 3 inches above the knee. Already thinking that was showing too much, never would anyone be catching me wearing one of those kinds of dresses. That’s what I thought. Bob, my boyfriend at the time want me to wear one, so he gave it to me for a gift, all wrapped up in pretty paper. I already thought that the school dress code had gone too far. In fact, when I was wearing a pantsuit I had felt as if I should have a dress on. Bob knew my opinion, but wanted me to wear one anyway.

Casual was the word for these mini skirts dresses and skirts. I wore one out on a date with Bob. He loved it and I hated it. I felt positively naked in it. I kept trying to pull it down over my knees, but every time I tried to pull it over my knees, he would push my hand away. I hated this dress and I hated Bob for making me wear it. Our heads clashed once the two piece bathing suit came out. I gave in and bought myself a two piece bathing suit, but I found my own style of two piece. I bought a two piece that covered the midriff and the bottom was the length of our gym shorts had been, and our behinds did not hang out.

Anything goes today and nothing is casual really, that is not according to the words above. So be careful ladies.

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Mom’s Alzheimer’s

 

Let’s go back to when we started noticing things that we all thought were funny. Yes, that’s where to start; back when we would find her keys in the refrigerator, an item that she misplaced and was looking for was in an old purse stuck in the back of the closet. That day she may have driven 3 or 4 blocks out of her way and didn’t know why. She forgot to pay bills so I did that and Lynn and I started doing her shopping

Then things got worse. There were two incidents that actually scared us. One was that she was going to a friend’s house that was close to mine. I had no idea that she was out my way. The nursery at the corner called me and said that my mother drove in a ditch in front of the nursery. Being concerned, I told them I would be right over to get her. They told me the forklift got her out and she seemed dazed. I asked to speak to her and they told me that she’s not there, she was gone. NO…NO…NO I thought to myself why did you let her leave I wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, I got in my car and went looking for her myself. When I couldn’t see her on any road, I went home and started calling her on the phone. It took her three hours for her to get home. We only lived 30 minutes to her house.

The second incident put her in far more danger than the first one. She went to NH to visit her sister and spread dad’s ashes at his former college. I got a call at midnight from my frantic aunt Margie in NH and she told me my mom had not gotten there yet but had called. My aunt Margie further told me that when she had called and didn’t know where for sure. My aunt told her to ask someone and then mom said that she was in some town on the shoreline which was 200 miles out of the way. Mom said that she was going to stay at the B&B she was at and would drive to her house in the morning. Mom got there the next day after noon. She had been a long way from Alstead.

Definitely she needed to know that something was wrong and it was time to find out what. Lynn found an expert in geriatrics who was teaching classes in Alzheimer’s and Dementia at the University of Colorado which is where mom went for all her doctors. He asked if we could hang around for part of his lecture so he could show an example of an Alzheimer’s patient. My sister and I agreed. When he introduced her, he mentioned a couple of symptoms. Did he have to point out that she looked a little lost and scared?

After all this, my brother had us all over for a picnic. He asked my mom to go get the broom for him. She got to the top of the stairs and began to get that lost look on her face. Meanwhile, I went upstairs to get something for my brother and my mother was standing in the middle of the small hallway at the entrance muttering that she was afraid to ask Ronny what she was supposed to get. I yelled down at him to find out what mom was supposed to get. Ronny said impatiently that he already told her 3 times a broom and I pointed to where it was. In the meantime I had gone and got what Ronny wanted. So here our mother was handing Ronny a bag for trash. Ronny told me that she was deliberately trying to make him crazy. I tried to tell him it was the Alzheimer’s and she couldn’t help her forgetfulness and wasn’t trying to make him crazy.  He said that Lynn and I had to move her out of his house and that he couldn’t take anymore of her pretending. I tried to explain that she can’t help that she forgets. It’s not a game or trying to make you nuts, but if you really want her out, we will move her.

Lynn and I started looking for a place for her to live and I (for lack of anyone wanting the job) got to be her POA. Lynn found one right away which was perfect for her. It was a one bedroom Seniors only apartment building. The manager told us straight up that this was not assisted living and there’s not always someone there so she has to get things done herself and if she gets a lot worse, she will need assisted living arrangements. So  the long road begins. In 1999 Bill and I decided to move to Missouri. Somewhere quiet, settle down there.

Each and every day I’d go spend 4 -5 hours a day with her. We’d read, put puzzles together, and talked. Talk we did. I got to know mom as an adult instead of a mother. It was neat getting to know her that way. She had been on two Alzheimer’s pills that were available at that time.  I fell in 2008 and broke my shoulder. So it begins … mom has Alzheimer’s and by now Bill had been diagnosed with dementia and the bills …

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Difficult Apology

There’s a program here that gives a prompt. That is to help writers get their thoughts running again. Now, you may use these single words for that purpose,  just for practice, or you may do them  for fun.

I wrote a daily prompt a while ago that was on the word apology. I began by saying that an apology that consists of a short statement such as “Oh, sorry ’bout that” is an unacceptable apology. When an offense is committed against a person it becomes a personal offense. A personal offense deserves a personal apology. Sometimes an offender doesn’t realize that they have offended or hurt someone.

After 20 years, my personal offense against my family has become a painful realization of just how deeply that one act hurt them. I never dreamed that my actions would hurt anyone but myself. Seeing that it does, apologies are long over due. After I wrote and posted my apologies online, thoughts of my own attempt ran through my mind again. Slow motion flashbacks kept me awake night after night. This was a very sensitive subject to me and to my family. Once believing that my children, my stepson(s), our granddaughter, and my parents would not suffer any pangs from that act, but now I knew that it did. I removed the post. Unfortunately, I hastily destroyed it and wish I hadn’t.

A comment on one of my posts was a cry for help so, I had to write this post. I have to do this for my family because it has taken me more than 20 years to realize the unimaginable agony I caused the ones closest to me. Unexpectedly, I found myself needing to apologize to a number of people. That one comment made me imagine what happens to each family member when someone commits suicide. Jess, there was a day you revealed to me you remember the day of musical chairs. Then you asked where that was. I had to tell you that it was at the hospital for people who needed help.

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This act would have hurt you in a way different from all the others. If you had known that when it happened, you would have realized by the time you were in grade school that your grandma would have been there in your life to watch you grow up. Had I succeeded, you would have realized this was my fault that I wasn’t there.

Your years of growing up were some of the happiest years of grandma and grandpa’s lives. The visits, the overnights, the talks, and the vacations we took together, we always tried to do things that your parents didn’t do with you. I would have missed all those things.

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When someone commits suicide they don’t really want to die, they want to stop the pain. I remember wanting to die way back when I was a child, but I didn’t know why or how to do it.

He never saw any of the promises the recruiters made. He was in Afghanistan but a couple of months and they sent him home. He was in Bethesda Hospital for a while and as soon as he got out, he waited for a train on the deck and threw himself onto the tracks in front of the train.

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To everyone that felt the sting of my actions, I truly believed at that time, I was only hurting myself. I truly believed that it would affect no one but me. Anyone who thinks that way needs help right now. I knew I was in trouble and headed for more, but I didn’t know how to stop it. Owing everyone in the family an apology, I am going to try to do that now.

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My husband and I had a long talk along with my apology to him. This was the most difficult person I have ever had to apology to. When I realized how deeply my husband loved me, how much he depended on me to care for the family and all that had to be carried out. If he had me no longer, and had to take care of all the affairs, and how much this would have devastated Bill. I could see it then. He would not have been able to bear this happening to him. He had already lost so much in his life; this would have deadened his emotions to the point of physical and emotional paralysis.

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JR, although you are grown now, you were young at that time. If I am correct, I believe you were 13. Words will never be enough and there are not enough words to apologize to you. I know that this did hurt you in ways I don’t know how, still to this day. You saw what was happening to me and I sincerely apologize for the unhappiness and uncertainty I caused in your life at that time. It was more difficult for you than any of the kids. You were at the age that you needed a mother figure in your life, and I let you down. In the younger years of yours and Jason’s lives we did have many good memories, but I am aware of the bad ones too. There were too many and I feel badly about those days too. Sometimes I still cry about those days, and I cry even more over the selfish act of suicide. We’ve never talked about it, so I don’t know exactly how you felt, how much you knew, or what damage I did to you.

Jason is not here for me to apologize to. It’s too bad that he was hurting so badly that he needed to make the pain go away the only way he knew how. (His girls were loved so much by him and they loved him too. He might have been able to put the brakes on and she would not be so wild.) I know that this hurt him at that time in ways I don’t know either. My attempt affected him somehow but I won’t know until the resurrection. He was a difficult child to get to know what he was thinking. It may not seem like it, but at times I felt as if he were my own too. He tried to reach out for help, but I was not able to cope with him at that time. Many times you saw me help him when he needed it no matter what. I know that your father didn’t know what to do to help either of you. He’s a good man and loves both of you. I do look forward to seeing him again. We both did the best we could at that time.

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Now I turn to my own 2 daughters. Tammie, I know you were and still are very upset with me and there isn’t anything I can do about that. You only stayed with us a couple of months. When your father changed the lock on the door without your knowledge and you didn’t want to come back to us, I just figured that you didn’t love me, so I let you go. I didn’t order the police to put you on a plane back to us.

I don’t know how my actions affected you, if it did at all. You are further away from me than words. All I can do is apologize. I truly am sorry for my act of selfishness.

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Lauralee, You were around when this happened and I’m so sorry that it hurt you; some day I would like to sit down and talk about that. I hate now what I did years ago. Our relationship has always been rocky at best. I know we laughed about that before, but it isn’t really funny. I am sorry that I don’t recognize how this affected you since we are not very close. I would like to talk to you about it someday soon. My deep apologies for not being there. Thank you for the amount of time that you let Jess visit us and spend so much time with us while she was growing up. I feel bad that we didn’t have time to have lunch when I was in Denver. I’m sure Jess told you I got pretty sick in Laramie. I won’t be back to CO again. The altitude I can no longer tolerate. The doctor said that once you leave, you can’t go back if you have lung issues.

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This is for my parents who were thankfully busy with their own lives. My dad was sick and my mother was trying to take care of him and work at the same time. Now they are both gone, so I cannot apologize to either.

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Underestimate

Why would you want to do that?

I underestimated myself all the time until I took a good look at the word and then a good look at myself. Using the thesaurus, I found the first word listed was “under value”

I didn’t know myself at all. Here I was plugging along and just going through the motions of life. I never stopped to think that I had any value at all. Until I got off  “my little pity pot” and took an honest look at myself.

  1. Yes, I had faults, so does every one
  2. I just had no energy and I didn’t care if I made a difference in anybody else’s life
  3. I’ve never felt I was worth anything at all. OK I told myself.. 

It’s time to get off the pity pot and get some positive juices going. The reasons above are now things of the past. First of all, I am a person who is a giving person, I love people and it makes me happy to give to others. I know that I make them happy because they always tell me how glad they are when I stopped in and visit them, or bring them something to eat when they’re sick.

Then there are all those years that I contributed to society by working, paying taxes Then there is the fact that I have talent in some things. I love photography, and I have a knack for writing. It doesn’t matter, stories, diaries, resumes, etc. I found that when I looked at life through the eyes of an objective person, I have a lot of worth.

So, let’s all get off of our “little pity pots” and take a good look at ourselves. I will never underestimate myself again and I bet you won’t either.

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Feelings

Feelings from beginning to end   UPDATED

 

Feelings run hot and cold with the caretakers of a person with dementia. Sometimes feelings run high enough to feel like leaving and not coming back. This is true once the dementia patient cannot be left alone. At times, the caretaker truly feels weighed down even with loved ones. This is a two-person journey from beginning to end. Since this a person we love, that weighed down feeling passes quickly. What I’ve seen in Bill’s is the sadness of losing each skill, each thought, each piece of him to oblivion. I’m not morose, or a negative person, but this is a sad condition of the mind.

I’ve been with Alzheimer’s people and Dementia so much these past 20 years or so that I forget what really is happening to the person. When you are with a person with such a condition, perhaps every day, you don’t see the gradual change. Others do see the gradual decline.

To those who don’t have to care for a dementia patient you are fortunate; the feelings the caretakers feel may they never have to. It’s the suddenness of the drop in abilities that stands out to the caretakers because we don’t see the gradual. Again, you look at your loved one and realize this seems like he has suddenly gone downhill again. To me it feels as if it has been sudden that his thoughts and speech won’t come together, if at all. I remember the thoughts of his heart wanting to come out, but they were stuck. The thoughts were there, the memories are there, but the words are not.

Each word and thought that can’t get out is like a knife digging into me and every word that comes out wrong is as painful as that knife in me. He struggles to get the thoughts out and it hurts me to the point of my heart breaking in two.

As he tries to form the words or remember his thought, the look of desire in his eyes I know that he has something important to say to me. The unwillingness of his mouth to form the words that have already gone into oblivion and as the thought itself enter the doors of extinction, we look at each other helplessly.

I can only hug him and tell him that I love him. This is not his fault. Then nothingness fills the void of silence once again.

That was only one small thing that we have to work with. Bill has to remember that his son has not had to deal with older people and never with Alzheimer’s and Dementia. It is a shock for him to see his dad like this, and he doesn’t see it as bad as it really is. Thankfully, there is no one else on Bill’s side of the family that we have to hold their hand and deal with this too. What I mean by that; It’s hard enough to bring one person to understanding this sickness and accepting the condition of their loved one, and would be that much harder to have to help two or three through the same thing at the same time.

Many people balk at someone trying to explain their loved ones health condition. Some wonder if you think that you know it all and are lording over them. No, I am trying to help him come to an understanding of their loved ones condition so they won’t do things that aren’t good for their loved ones abilities.

When you look at this, it comes down to the importance of the relationship that Bill and I have built over the years that is getting us through this. My sister said it all when she said that when you get old, all you have is your family to take care of you.

How am I doing? I’m just plugging along like everyone else is and taking it one day at a time. Here I thought that this was going to be another story of my feelings of taking care of my husband, but it turned into something else added in and that is okay too.

There also was a sparkle, and I loved it. That short piece is called “Twinkle”

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Playful

Playful

Being playful can mean a few different things, and some are not desirable at all. A cat being playful with a mouse is not a desirable thing to watch, but that is what they instinctively do. Playful in childhood can be either good or bad depending on which side you’re on; the playing or the object of which one plays.

A child playing with a toy and is learning new skills is a good thing. Playing baby talk with an infant is fun and makes the child smile. Then there is a playful attitude that is another story. Children are playful and that is a fact. Here is another fact of playful; adults can be, need to be, and should be playful at times too. Our family was playful at times with the children and that should be normal within every family. There is another type of playful role that just happened. I was quick to latch on to it, and rolled with the punch. This did both my mother and I a world of good.

I discovered that at a certain stage of Alzheimer’s, when it appeared that there were no memories left at all within my mother’s mind I began doing something that I thought wouldn’t do any good, but I was close to tears and had nothing else to say. I began singing “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do….” To my astonishment my mother began to sing along as best she could. In those moments, we looked at each other and there was a spark of recognition once again in her eyes. Whether it was recognition of the song, or her momentary recognition that I was part of her life it didn’t matter. She had a smile on her face and that spark of recognition with a little sparkle in her eyes. For the rest of my visit, we did nursery rhymes. She was able to recall almost all of them. The sparkle in her eyes remained there, and her tight grip of my hand said it all.

Now that my husband has Dementia, we get a different kind of playful. We play like kids. We talk to each other as if we were kids. It raises both of our moods, and reduces some of the stress on my side and the frustration on his side because of lack of ability to get his thoughts across to me and gives him a chance to play within the safety of childhood.

When we play children he is able to get his thoughts out in a way I can understand what he is feeling. Therefore I am able to adjust the way I deal with him and lessens my frustration. I am leaning toward a tendency to get angry with him because he is not capable of understanding what I want him to do. It hurts and shames me deeply to get angry with him for something he can’t help. That tendency shrinks almost to nothing when we are playing.

Having dealt with my mother’s Alzheimer’s for 16 years, I was always looking for ways of dealing with her memory loss of everything including her family. When I discovered her ability to do songs and nursery rhymes, I reveled in that new discovery.

Now with the Dementia, I am still trying to change the ways I can communicate with my husband. This time I’m looking for ways to communicate through a playful attitude and playing a child. This is working today, and I will take it. It’ll work for today, and when that stops working, I’ll find another way to communicate.  It is well worth it for the caretaker to see a sparkle return to their eyes, a smile on their face, and a grateful grip of the hand. These few things are the most that can be expected in the very late stages of any kind of dementia, but they mean the world to the caretaker and the ill one.

In the meantime, we continue to hang on to the moments of recognition and play as long as his illness will allow him to do that.

 

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