Another Hiserville Spring

 Dad is now installed in the second adult living facility, a much prettier and smaller place with better service.  He is carving his space out and doing as well as anyone with Lewey Body Dementia can be.  He has now found some medication that he can tolerate and is willing to take, has acquainted himself with his new neighborhood, and is gaining back some needed weight.


I have lost the weight I needed to and am now maintaining.  I attend TOPS faithfully.  People clap for me when I am in leeway (up to three pounds above my goal weight), at goal, or under goal (up to six pounds below my goal weight).  I clap for the other folks who have made it to their goal weight and for the others who stay the same or lost but not at goal yet.  I remind those who gained that "tomorrow starts a new week."  It is a group thing and comforting in the existence of its' own rituals and support.


The dog is a year older.  Companion has just started talking about getting a puppy.  I am not quite ready to face the idea of dog's decline and inevitable death.  


Out in the backyard, along with the usual white-throats and white crowns, house sparrows, happy little chickadees and friends, and hairies and downies, raucous blue jays and stately cardinals, there was a bit of unusual activity in the past month.  A large mixed flock of over thirty house finches and purple finches decided that my backyard feeder was the place to be and they have come every day faithfully for a month now.  I've been startled by a tufted titmouse and a mourning dove who decided separately to sit on the railing within three feet of my stoop and check me out.  Last week the first hummer of the season made its' way through the blossoms of my crabapple tree.  A pair of hairies have been vigorously inspecting the quaking aspen (maybe for a nesting site I don't know).  A pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks flew in one evening and stopped to feed.  The female ate in the usual manner with her legs on the anti-squirrel bar and beak facing the sunflower seeds.  The male didn't.  He positioned himself away from the feeder which forced his head to turn left or right to grab the seeds.  He ate for a solid ten minutes as if exhausted from flight.  A half hour later the couple returned and the male did a repeat performance.  They flew off and I haven't seen them since.  A couple of mornings ago, a catbird flew in.  He treated me to a few stanzas of his song with a few cat-like meows thrown in.  And then he too departed.


I've continued to have not good experiences with VESID now accessNY (lol what a name!)-- OVR or BVR in other states and continue to run through job developers and VESID counselors.  The latest job developer however appears to be a human being (a refreshing change for me) and is in the process of setting up the second half of a job assessment, although not at an animal shelter.  She is endeavoring to get me a spot at a small photography studio based on my skills with creating textures and backgrounds and things using (registered trademarks) Corel's PaintShop Pro 9 and 10 and (freeware) The GIMP.  I will have to learn (registered trademark) Adobe Photoshop Plus which is what the professionals are using these days but looking forward to this possibility.  So although I indicated that I can manage to work Saturday mornings at the animal shelter, I am hoping that something can be arranged with a photography place.


Gas prices have gone up like crazy, Osama bin Laden is dead and I hope we nuke the countries of origins of any terrorists who dare to come over here to bomb ours in retaliation for his death, I am at a healthy weight, I am managing my traumatic brain injury as well as I can with occasional lapses, I remain abstinent (thirty years of a day at a time and counting), and I am reasonably happy.  I haven't blogged regularly in awhile-- dementia makes for havoc and chaos in the lives of the caregiver turned advocate and family even when at its' calmness-- and to that I can only say "We'll see if I can return to semi-regularity" rather than make any promises that I cannot keep.

sapphoq n friends

p.s.  I've abandoned Facebook cuz I hate it.

Dearly Demented Dad

Dad wants to go to alf and I feel guilty.
He even has one picked out-- the one we saw that was affordable.
He is visiting us because he has a neurology appointment tomorrow.
He wants to visit the alf AGAIN tomorrow.
He doesn't know when he wants to move in yet but he clearly wants to live there in his own room on the second floor-- it's a coupla miles from our home.

Dad had five accidents in five months and thus quit driving in May (car got wrecked) and I feel guilty.
I'd tried to get Dad to quit driving a couple of years ago but failed. His wife/now ex-wife felt unable to get rid of the car. I told the state of New Jersey that he had dementia and sent them copies of his records and of his failed driving evaluation-- so they gave him his license back.
And so he had his five accidents in five months this year (thankfully no one was hurt. The last one was the worst-- he plowed into a parked car and then drove to the police station to tell them that he had an accident).
He still has his license. He says he won't "give that up."
But at least the car is gone.

Dad wants to stay with ex-wife "for as long as she has bills that she cannot pay alone" and I feel guilty.
She says she tells him to think about himself and his own needs. He says she doesn't talk to him at home or that she is "mean." He wants to get a part-time job once he moves to the alf-- whenever that is.

Dad won't take any medicine for his dementia, copd, or atrial fib and I feel guilty.
When he lived with us for several months a couple of years ago, after a very long time I had gotten him to take meds and he had even agreed to see a neurodoc up here. But the ex-wife was still his wife then and she wanted him back home so he went. Now it is two years later, he's deteriorated further and he still has no dementia meds.
His walking is worse this week than it was two weeks ago when he was here last.
The only meds he will take now are Rogaine, Robitussin, and an over the counter anti-constipation pill. He says he is taking the cough medicine and the anti-constipation pill for his copd.
His a-fib puts him at high risk for a debilitating or deadly stroke (yes I just saw that commercial on teevee. Dad didn't see it-- he is sleeping in his chair). My primary care doc told him that and he didn't seem to care. There was no reaction to that news. He says his brother takes the meds and his brother had a stroke anyways. (The brother mostly recovered from it).
Can the once again untreated a-fib have caused the dementia or worsened it??? (No, there have not been any mini-strokes). He has the neurology appointment up here tomorrow and I am afraid of the answer for that one.

Dad is here alive and I feel guilty. I have tried to protect him and failed.

Spring Comes to Hiserville

Spring is struggling to maintain a foothold here in the willy-nillies of Hiserville. The backyard has borne witness to bunches of grackles and crows, a lone song sparrow, a pair of nesting house wrens, a cowbird or two, the usual collection of house sparrows and starlings and cardinals and blue jays, chickadees and a few nuthatches, goldfinches, three mourning doves who have apparently decided that both the yard and the dog are theirs, a hungry goshawk, and a northern thrasher. The grass has resumed its' tortured existence, the tulips and lilacs are blooming, the peonies and road lilies are shooting up leaves and stems, the coral bells have announced their survival of the winter. Bees and ants abound. The crab apple trees have lost their pink blossoms to the wind and the forsythias are budding.

I have lost over twenty pounds since the official start of spring. My worn comfortable clothing is a bit more comfortable these days. The dog has lost a pound and a half. She now shows a well developed muscular gut and defined thighs upon examination. The husband has himself lost weight in steadfast support of my quest to develop a healthier relationship with food. The African Bullfrog has not lost weight nor does he care to. The cats remain two bodies of strong density and excellent physical condition from all their wrestling and charging up and down stairs.

It is time to engage the dog in the first one of several walks. In my mind's eye I behold waves of the little yellow signs which are popping up over the landscape. These particular signs denote that the inhabitants within have paid around a hundred dollars a month in order for chemicals to be applied to their landscapes in order to eradicate random patches of violets and other flora. The dog will kept off of the smelliest lawns since at least one of the ingredients in the mixture can bind with the proteins present in dogs' footpads and kill them off. Indeed, the dog is not permitted to use all lawns everywhere as her personal toilet bowl. The dog has "spots" located strategically near the roadway, and I come equipped with poopy pick-up bags.

Later on the dog and I will head off for the D.O.T. trail along the river. We will inspect the latest blow-down, the progress of trillium and solomon's seals, the shifting sunlight in the forest. We may spot baby snappers sunning themselves on the logs in the swamp, a pair of brave boaters, other dogs out with their families. So delicious this time of year-- this brief interim between bitter cold and black fly season-- in spite of the weather which cannot make up its' mind sometimes minute to minute of how to be.

Fingers fly over the keyboard while a dog snoozes in the yard happily. The cats are napping in baskets near the window. Someone outside is mowing. The computer repeats its' endless refrain, advising that all is well within its' mechanical soul. The wooden chair feels hard. The body is still. The toes curl and the feet are ready. I hit "save now" and then "publish post", "sign out", x, "shutdown". The dog waits for the adjustment of harness and lead. The reader is left with no moral and no astonishing earth-shattering insights here. I hang the lanyard with the house key around my neck, adjust a tie on one sandal and we are gone.


sapphoq and canine friend