And The Beat Goes On....

First of all, I want to apologize for my lack of attentiveness. It's okay if you roll your eyes. I've done the same thing when people say that. The truth is that my energy is at about 30% and very little of that has been expended on things I care about - such as reading blogs, reading books or even leisurely watching TV. While all the things I've been doing are necessary, they're also challenging most of my personal limitations, physically and mentally.

Not to say I won't be okay because I will. In comparison to my housemate's troubles, I have little room to complain - if any at all.

She is still in the nursing facility. The Cliff Notes are that she has been declared incompetent and is no longer able to make her own decisions. Her family has been brought in and those dynamics are coming into play. Her sister from Southern California has decided I am the spawn of the devil since I have asked to be paid for my services and has removed me from all ability to help in any substantial ways. I am not allowed to have information about her case from the nursing staff. If she could ban me from the premises, she probably would. I've gone from Golden Girl to goat in two days flat. Since she has Power of Attorney, I can't even make a suggestion. The staff can't even take information from me, let alone give it. The fact that I have had my boots on the ground for the past four years holds no significance. The Sister From Hell and I no longer speak and have no reason to do so in the future.

Her son is here, also from SoCal, and she has cut him off as well. The reasons for this are basically a power struggle. He also can't make any decisions. Luckily, after sweet-talking her, he can get information which he gives me and we discuss possibilities among ourselves. The discussions he has with his siblings are none of my business and I don't really care - but someone in the family needs to see all of these changes in context. If I can give that to him, that's good enough.

The sister's opinion is that I have no right to be paid because I am a "friend". I guess a friend, in her mind, should sacrifice his or her entire existence to care for her sister with no expectation of reciprocity. Of course this makes me angry and I have questioned my ethics on this every way there is. I have talked with trusted friends and even my spiritual advisor to think this through. I have determined that my asking for financial compensation is ethically clear.

I don't see any other "friends" of hers stepping up to the plate. I am there with her at the minimum, three hours a day. I go with her to physical therapy. I have lunch with her. Since she has little sense of time, she gets lonely very quickly and needs the visitors she has. Her two sons and her daughter visit her daily as well. They all have full lives and this is taxing them as well. We're doing the best we can. My housemate trusts me and knows I will always tell her the truth. That's not going to change. The rest of them have their own unique relationship with her and deal with things the way they think is best.

So that's my m-bitch for the day.

As for her, we got the report from the neurologist and he diagnosed early stage Alzheimers. Needless to say, she is not going to be able to come home without full-time caretaking which the family will have to work out and likely pay for. The insurance morass in this saga is something I won't even go into at this point but I'll say there's never been a stronger argument in my mind for national health care. This isn't a time to have to be worried about money. It sucks for her family, none of whom are independently wealthy.

When her son and I told her the results of the test, of course she began to cry. It's a hard pill to swallow and she's not someone who reads a lot or even talks about these things. She's scared to death, rightfully so. We've had a lot of talks about doors closing and her choice to open new ones. We've had talks about accepting limitations and creating a life within them. As a disabled person, I've had to do that. Everyone does. Eventually. As the saying goes, none of us get out of this life alive.

Seriously though, putting myself in her position, I can only imagine the hell she is experiencing in her quiet moments. I wish her grace, peace and acceptance - the kind that only something divine can offer her. We human beings are so limited in our wisdom and our ability to make horrific things right - or to even make them kind of okay. Sometimes life just sucks.

Thanks to all of you for hanging in with me, even though I am so notably unresponsive right now.


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Memory Is A Crazy Woman...

Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food. ~Austin O'Malley

Yesterday, I took my housemate to the Memory Clinic. She is being evaluated for Alzheimer's. Three different people with different skill sets gave her a lot of tests and interviewed me. There was a physician (a neurologist), a memory specialist and a social worker. The entire process took three hours. It was very thorough and I trust that she will get a solid diagnosis and a treatment plan. We won't know the outcome until next month.

This got me to thinking about memory and has resulted in several hours of Internet searches, reading everything from anecdotes to articles from neurology journals. Lots of it is over my head but still useful for a general understanding. Memory is a funny thing, something most of us lose at particular times and other events remain cemented in the forefront of our recollection, almost as though they are tattooed on our frontal lobes.

Personally, I've always had a sketchy and fluid short-term memory. It is a large dumping ground. Facts, figures, events and snippets of information, storylines of books that have impressed me, quotes, all sorts of things gather there and crop up when I want or need them. Sometimes they've gone into the ether where they can never be retrieved again. It's more like a subtle smell or a fragment of a song lyric that can't quite come to the surface.

Most of the time, I don't remember when I learned those things or how I gathered that information. It doesn't matter. Now that I'm retired, I often don't know the date or the day of the week. It simply doesn't matter.

At what point it becomes significant is what interests me. Many of the questions asked of us yesterday were obvious attempts to get a grasp on her orientation to time and place. They had her draw a few things and tested her verbal skills and understanding. She did her best and I could see her struggling.

But at what point is it pathological and when is it simply a function she doesn't need in her day-to-day life? Is it really that important that she know the day of the week or when something happened?

I came away from the experience yesterday knowing I want to protect my memory. I don't expect it to store everything for me like a super-computer. I don't expect to be able to call up every snippet of information I've ever learned without having to look it up again. (Calendars and books are good for that. They function as my memory and work perfectly well.)

As I age (and that's closer than further away), I want to make sure my mind and brain are active. It's important to not get caught up in pettiness and drama, to make sure that our capacity for memory is respected, protected and used well.

That means making a conscious effort to keep those neurons firing. I was discussing all of this with a friend last night and we both, of a similar age - my being a few years older - decided to learn Spanish. It is a good way to stimulate our brains and exercise our memories.

One of the people at the clinic yesterday, it might have been the social worker, said that people who stay active and involved in their environments, learn new things, stay socially active and interactive, are less likely to develop dementia in old age.

I'm in. This needs to be an effort that is just as conscious as eating well and exercising. Personally, I can't imagine anything worse than getting old and losing my cognitive ability. As has been said by many others thousands of times, when that happens, just shoot me.

Most of the people who read this are too young for this to be an issue - but still something worthy of keeping in mind. Remember. :)



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