The Journal

thinking, writing, learning

Momma’s Day

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Mom loves to have her head rubbed. When she used to go to beauty shops, she picked them based on how long the person shampooed her hair.

Alia, at a great place around the corner , not only gives fabulous shampoos, but she also begins treatment with a neck rub. Mom loved it, though she wouldn’t let Alia cut more than a 1/4 inch off her long gray hair!

Mom does seem more settled these days. She remembers for about 15 minutes, which means when she has an event that brings her joy, it is only in the moment. Experts say even that helps Alzheimer’s patients as the “sense” of joy helps keep their emotions balanced. I try not to be hurt when she forgets that I’ve spent the day with her. As long as she seems relatively stable and content, my own stress levels are lower.

Speaking of stress levels– somehow I’ve developed bouts of diverticulitis, in spite of all my good eating habits. I am hoping this doesn’t lead to surgery, but I haven’t managed to keep them from occurring. I am practicing deep breathing and belly massage to see if that helps.

I still haven’t figured out how to eat low fiber foods for the Div but eat high fiber foods to maintain good digestion! Seems impossible, right?

Once this all clears, I’m back to the FODMAP plan, which showed great promise before this all started.

For today, I am remembering meeting my sweet pal Heidi over the weekend, while I was also attending a funeral for my Dad’s brother. Seeing Heidi brought back such fun memories of when we worked together in Fredericksburg.

We picked up like we’d never been apart all those years. That’s friendship.

 

Not Giving Up Yet

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Whew, a long few months.  It’s amazing how mom’s dementia (plus her stress fracture and UTI) and my own bout with some stomach/digestive issues have twisted my thinking and weighed me down. But I do believe that warmer weather and signs of spring are lifting me out of the darkness.

I am learning how to balance it all. John O’Donohue helps, too:

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets into you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green
and azure blue,
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

The Great Escape

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When you can’t remember that you don’t remember, life is frustrating. Last night Mom needed an MRI to see why she was struggling to walk. She winced at every step.

But the good people at the imaging center were running behind. At 10 pm, Mom was ready to go, not sure where she was, or why we were there. The results  will be ready on Monday, but until then, we need to keep her off her feet. That’s not easy when you forget that you aren’t supposed to walk.

David sensed that I needed a break, so we took a 20-hour trip to VA Beach. Seeing this made the quick trip totally worth it:

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@notesfromyourtherapist

That relaxing feeling didn’t last too long. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to figure out why Mom is having trouble walking (aching hips) and more confused than usual. I got hung up on the walking part until two days ago when someone suggested a UTI. Duh! She has had three already, but she’s never had physical symptoms so I hadn’t considered that. Last night we finally got a urine sample to test, so we’ll know more this morning.

I’m not sure why everything takes so long, but I’m trying to learn to push gently and know that everyone is doing what they can. So that, plus Mom’s 93 year-old boyfriend who thinks he knows better for her than I do, is making me a little crazy. I had to laugh a little when I walked in her room last night and she was on the floor saying, “They told me to get down here because we are under attack.” If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.

This IG post from @notesfromyourtherapist hit home. Did you grow up feeling like you were responsible for someone’s emotions? It’s a lifelong pattern and one I struggle with. Knowing about why I do what I do doesn’t necessarily make life easier. But seeing her post reminds me– I don’t have to fix this this.

https://scmorgan.net/2019/04/02/4887/

Sea, Sun, Sand

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I am rejuvenated.

What is it about walking in soft, white sand, staring at teal water, or slipping through gentle waves as we sail?

After a long winter of health issues, mom issues, and freezing cold weather, I am ready to — well, ready to continue on. The problems don’t change, but they are certainly easier when I’ve had a break. I’ve enlisted the help of experts for the next few weeks to guide me through some decisions about caring for mom, and that will help. Also, I’m setting up a regular schedule of visits with her so I can designate some printing time. I’ve missed that.

But this morning, my thoughts are back in Turks and Caicos. What a gift.

The mind should be allowed some relaxation, that it may return to its work all the better for the rest. Seneca