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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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When visiting my Alzheimer-riddled friend Ron, I
become effusive. Downright gregarious. It’s as if I’m taking full charge.
Compelling Ron to get with it. The kind of good vibes that tend to stimulate
Ron. I set the tone. The young student nurse. Helped put Ron in a wheelchair.
Readying him for a ride. Outdoors. And when she started to zip up Ron’s jacket,
she acted timidly. Too timidly. Ron resisted. Pushed her away. Acted like Mr.
Tough Guy. I intervened. Took charge.
Took command. ‘Hey, Ron,’ I said firmly. ’Act like a Norwegian gentleman. Let me
do this.’ I zipped up the jacket. Looking directly into Ron’s eyes. Ron got the
message. I’m his friend. And he knew. We were going outdoors. He was about to
be set in motion. Forward. Forward. Forward. I cajoled Ron. Reminded him. We
were about to pursue one of his favorite pastimes. Sure, it was cold. About 10
degrees. A fluffy snow on the ground, too. Ron’s lap. Covered with soft, cushy
blankets. A knit cap. .Drooped over his head. Mittens on his hands. And away
we went. Up and down the snow-covered paved trail. Through the woods. A good workout.
For me. A dazzling winter wonderland for Ron. I talked. Almost incessantly.
Describing. For Ron’s benefit.
Everything that we were seeing. And experiencing. Ron was my captive audience.
When we returned. To the warm comfort. of Ron’s cocoon. A five-bed residential
home with no resemblance to a nursing home. It was obvious. Ron felt at ease.
Laughing, Rollicking. Having a good time. No belligerence. Life. Flowing.
Smoothly. Ron lifted himself. Out of the wheelchair. Walked to the dining
table. About to savor. A baked potato.
With sour cream and chives. Melted cheese and broccoli, too. Everyone was happy.
Ah, this is the way to live. With Alzheimer’s. –Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Many years ago, I avoided visits to nursing homes.
Especially to memory care units. It was depressing. Bad for my morale. A funny
thing has happened over the years. Gradually. I became enchanted. By the communication
skills of the dementia-riddled. I learned to listen. To understand and speak
their multiple and unique languages. I have a little more difficulty with the
first language of my Italian true love. I resort to English far too much. Since
she speaks fluent English. I rely too much on her. But the dementia speakers
rely on me. I have to put forth the effort. And that’s good. Really, we all
need more effort. In learning how to communicate. With each other. Anyway, I’m
fascinated. That I’ve learned the rudiments of a second language. Unexpectedly.
Maybe it’s that I practice. Really, dementia has become a common language. It
can be learned. Even by language dumbbells like me. All it takes is practice,
practice and more practice. Believe me. Dementia is a beautiful language. Maybe
it’s that I have mastered the art of listening. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Learning a language. How does one go about it? Really,
isn’t it by listening? My cats, for instance, have a distinct language. That I
pick up. By listening. And observing. I’ll be living in Italy. Most of the
winter. Though I’ll never be fluent in Italian. I often understand the gist of
the conversation. By listening to the tone. And watching very animated
gestures. And by picking up familiar and meaningful words. Doesn’t matter. Whether
the language is French or German or Czech. Listening is the key. One learns baby talk that way. Political speak,
too. Which is harder to understand than dementia speak. Political speak often makes absolutely no
sense. Whether one listens, or not. Yes, beyond the pale of human understanding. –Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Now it's time to die. With Alzheimer's. Ron is in hospice care at his five-bed residential nursing home. And is expected to die in a
week or two. And he seems ready for death. Taking it all in stride. He
seems to be at peace. And knows/senses what's coming. Seems to feel that
he's at home. I'll visit him on Wednesday. Meanwhile, daughter Julie seems to be
pulling herself together. In a mood of acceptance. She's in her fifth
day without a drink. Indeed, a good sign. Husband Rick seems exhausted by it
all. In some ways, Julie is being the strong one. Maybe she knows this
is the end of the long and arduous journey. Maybe it is
bringing her a sense of relief. Maybe now she will be able to get on
with the rest of her life. Both of her parents gone. A new era. No more
responsibilities or obligations to one's parents. Maybe now she can
focus more on her self. Ron would have wanted it that way. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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I hope dying comes relatively fast and easy and painless for Ron. I've
watched people die. In slow and lingering ways. Maybe an instant death
is best. With no time to think about it. Thus escaping the mental and
physical pain. Out like a light. When I saw Ron today. He was sleeping. I
talked to him in soft, soothing tones. Wonder if he heard me, and
understood. Gave him a soft and gentle foot massage. And stroked his
forehead. He was snoring for a while. His mouth open. Spent a half-hour
with him. A vigil. He's taking no food. Because he can't swallow. No IV
feeding planned. I'm told his life systems are starting to shut down.
Apparently we all have to die. Physical deaths. I wonder. If life
continues. In a spiritual realm. Maybe it really doesn't matter. Coming
from nothing. And returning to nothing. So unromantic. Not the way I
would have it. I have so very much business/living to accomplish yet.
--Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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So important for me. To be focused on living. Even when watching
someone/Ron die. Celebrating his wonderful and blessed life. And the
fact. That I'm alive. Capable of celebrating. Rather than mourning. I'm
still here. And will be. For a while longer. Able to keep Ron and so
many others. Alive. In my memory. Amazing. That I am able to give them
spiritual life. With thoughts. With pondering. With musings. Maybe
that's the closest I come. To having the divine powers of a/thee
creator. For instance, Jeanne is still with me. Seven years after her
death. So many others, too. Friends. Acquaintances. Anyone I choose. Is
kept alive. By me. Mozart. Haydn. Beethoven. Shakespeare. I have direct
access. To all of them. They have found ways. To leave their spirits.
Here. With easy access. To the living. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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I connected with a spirit today. Belonging to Alzheimer-riddled friend
Ron. Seems that Ron's spirit is hovering. Half in the spiritual realm.
And half in the physical world. Or so his spirit told me. While I was
out for a walk. Waiting for Ron to die. He's barely hanging on. To his
physical life, that is But his spirit is very much alive. Now that it's
ascending. Separating bit by bit. From his physical being. The
transition will be complete. Very soon. In a few hours. Or a few days at
the most. There will be no more physical Ron. Only spiritual Ron. With a
new-found clarity of mind. Already, Ron's spirit has found a way to
communicate with me. While I was walking. On a trail. In a woods. Where I
used to walk and wheel Ron. Seems that Ron's spirit was drifting.
Overhead. Near the tree tops. He asked. That I tell his daughter Julie.
To stop lamenting. Instead, she's to rejoice. And celebrate his physical
death. And to get on with her own life. In exuberant and kindly
fashion. By being happy. No matter what. To find ways to savor life.
And especially the precious moments. Better that. Than to stay in
depression. And drunk. Ron's spirit said it's time for Julie to get on
with living. A joyous life. That she shouldn't even come to his bedside
any more. To watch him die. Because there are better things to do. Such
as living the rest of her life to the utmost. Perhaps as a romantic
idealist. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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I encourage my friend Julie to think more like me. As a romantic
idealist. In order to climb out of the doldrums. And onto the plateau of
happiness. It's real easy, I tell her. By looking at life from a
romantic perspective. By refusing to be unhappy. By insisting on being
happy. Every time that I feel unhappy. I refuse to go to bed. Until I
find a reason to be happy. 'Nobody thinks like that,' Julie replies. My
immediate response: 'I certainly do. And you know it. Because I have a
compulsion to be happy. I'm addicted to happiness. Unfortunately, you
are addicted to unhappiness. And to red wine.' I remind Julie that she
was once addicted to exercise. Mainly swimming. She once upon a time
was able to swim across Forest Lake. Virtually every day. And that's a
mile and a half swim. She could assume the romantic role of healthy mermaid again. If she
set her mind to it. And more than that. She could become a happy human
being. Yes, by setting her mind to being a true blue romantic idealist. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Ron died today. Just as well. Because he was Alzheimer-riddled. No
reason to mourn or grieve. Because Ron's spirit has been freed. And
remains alive. After being shackled in his physical body for 87 years.
I'm celebrating Ron's physical death. Didn't make sense. For Ron to
linger on and on. With a physical mind plagued by dementia. Fortunately,
the spiritual mind isn't physical. Which means, it's free of dementia.
And functioning with remarkable clarity. In a spiritual dimension. I'm
connected with Ron's spirit. Which is possible. When one truly believes
in spiritual existence. I'm able to listen to Ron. And he's able to
listen to me, too. Meanwhile, I'm encouraging Ron's loving and devoted
daughter, Julie, to jump high and click her heels. In celebrating Ron's
new and lofty existence. Really, there's no reason to grieve. After
all, Ron's spirit keeps him very much alive. Forever. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Daughter
Julie isn't taking her father Ron's death well. That's to be expected.
Because after years and years of care-giving, she's distraught.
Exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. She's in the throes of
depression. She's drinking. Her favorite beverage, red wine. She's become an alcoholic. That,
more than anything, exacerbates the situation. Makes everything worse.
She's lucid. When not drinking. For periods that seldom last for more than three
or four days. That's when I talk to her. About going in for treatment.
But she never does. Instead, she takes to drinking again. In order to
forget. Her unhappiness. Her instability. Her inability to cope. If I had
my way, I'd force Julie into treatment. For a sustained period. She's
in dire need of psychotherapy. The rest of us are celebrating Ron's
demise. We are happy for him. For his escape from the ravages of
Alzheimer's. I'm sitting in a lawn chair. Chatting with Julie's husband
Rick. About Ron's wonderful and long life. Yes, we are celebrating. Not
mourning. Not grieving. We did that long ago. Before Ron died. But
Julie has been mourning and grieving. For years and years. Non-stop.
Makes me wonder. If Julie will grieve herself to death. Yes, some people
die of grieving. Rather than getting on with life. It's just a matter
of time. For Julie. Unless she gets help. To stop her slow and
methodical march to suicide. When that happens. Rick and I will grieve and mourn. For a day
or two. About what could have been. Then we'll get on. With living life.
The way it should be lived. Living. Happily ever after. With fond memories
of Julie. When she was the real Julie. Before she got lost. In the
labyrinth of despair. --Jim
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Joined: 3/7/2012
Posts: 1751
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I understand how Julie feels.
Right now, I am crying/ whimpering/ sobbing with her.
I understand how it feels to be totally alone. Lost in the dark. Hurting from the inside out. Crushed. Overwhelmed. Not to be touched again by the beloved.
I have been mourning for 19 months. And grieving for 10+ years.
The feeling of guilt, survivor's guilt, that Death brings is overwhelming.
All the would haves, could haves, should haves. They consume me when I sense the scent of Death.
I believe it is okay to mourn and to grieve deeply. It is okay to sob. It is okay to cry. It is okay to let the whole world know how deeply we feel the pain that Death brings.
For everything there is a season. This is the season for mourning and for grieving.
There is no god that can console me!
I roam the nights looking for my husband. My home is incomplete without him.The pain of my loneliness devours me. I am lost alone without him. My soul is dressed in black.
Rationally, I have accepted from the beginning that my beloved husband is no longer suffering. His ashes at sea. Good riddance to symptoms of dementia / AD.
Yes, I feel my beloved's presence. My mind is a sanctuary of memories.
But emotionally, the waves of sorrow engulf my heart.
Recently, in lengthy conversations with my daughter, I have said to her that I will not suppress my anguish. I will not suppress my pain. She has to accept that for now, my spirit is broken. I do not need to hear the "get-on with life bull-shit." I will get-on.... when my body, my mind, and my spirit are ready. Punto final.
My immortal beloved will never again touch me. I will never again hear his voice. I long for his kisses. I ache for me.
Julie, my dear, I hear you.
My condolences.
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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I understand how Julie feels, too. But find it unacceptable behavior,
w/e. Thus, I am in favor of intervention. Because if Julie continues on
her self-destructive path, it's really a slow form of suicide. She's
killing herself. Bit by bit. And it's wrong for her friends to sit idly
by. And watch it happen. In my opinion, Julie is mentally ill. She needs
treatment. Psychotherapy. And maybe medication, too. Other than
alcohol. Julie doesn't have to feel alone. She has others in her life.
Some of whom really care. Not the least being husband Rick. And if she
would believe in the spiritual realm, she could commune with the
spirits, too. With all of her loved ones. Mother. Father. Everyone. She
tells me she does believe in spiritual life. Well, then go to it. It's
one thing to mourn the loss of one's beloved spouse. For a while. As you
do. But a parent? When the parent dies at age 87? After living a full
life? Sure, mourn that parent, too. But get over it. Especially if
that's best for your physical, mental and emotional life. And if one
chooses to mourn forever -- well, don't do it with booze. Find another,
less destructive and less shameful way. I'll grant Julie the right to
mourn and grieve. In a proper way. Killing one's self. That ain't
proper. -By the way, w/e, you seem to be mourning and grieving in a
proper way. Setting a good example for Julie. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Don't know. If I should feel cheated. Because Ron became my friend. Only
after he had dementia. Therefore, I never knew Ron. Before Alzheimer's.
When he was a brilliant scientist at 3M Co. When he was still very much with it. Even after his retirement. When he lived in a cabin. In the wilderness.
In the far north of Minnesota. But still, I've gleaned much about the earlier Ron. From
his friends. And his daughter Julie. And son-in-law Rick. They loved and
revered Ron. In so many ways. I've heard hundreds of fascinating stories. About Ron.
Therefore, I don't feel cheated. Instead, blessed. To have linked up
with Ron. In the last 10 years of his fabulous life. I was still able to grasp his
brilliance. His sense of humor. His stamina. His love for life. I took Ron for walks. And wheelchair rides. We developed a
camaraderie. We exuded good vibes. And made the
most of our friendship. I got a feel. For Ron's endearing and sprightly spirit. So
much so. That we'll be able to commune. Even after death. And bring our friendship to an
even higher level. Amazing, isn't it? The power of the human spirit.
Living on. Into eternity. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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They tell me that Ron 'looked good.' At the funeral home. But I have yet
to see a real good-looking corpse. They all look dead. And I don't
particularly like the look of death. When I go to a funeral. And there's
an open casket. I don't bother to look. Better to remember the deceased when
he/she was healthy and vibrant and alive. Anyway, Ron's remains consist of an empty body. A lifeless vessel. The spirit has ascended.
To other environs. Another dimension. Anyway, some of Ron's family
members wanted to see him. For one last time. As a dressed-up corpse. On
Tuesday, Ron will be cremated. The ashes placed in an urn. To be
buried. At a national cemetery. --Jim
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