5 Easy Ways to Keep Your Brain Sharp

5 Easy Ways to Keep Your Brain Sharp

Happy Father's Day

6-20-10

I wish that Dad were home with us (he is in a rehabilitation facility). I have been keeping notes on the events of the last 10 days and hope to catch everybody up some time soon. Life is a giant roller coaster right now and it makes it hard to find time to sit down and write. Today, I will spend more than my average 6-8 hours with Dad. I will encourage him to get stronger so that he can come home (even though I do that everyday). But mostly, I will simply love him as I thank God that he is still with us.

It's Been a Long 10 Days

June 5, 2010


I am going to encapsulate this the best I can. I went out of town on Thursday, May 27th. Dad was very anxious about my leaving him. He understood that I had to go (my sister had surgery and I needed to be with her and I was taking one of my grandsons to see his mother) but he really wanted me to stay here with him.

On Friday, I received a call saying Dad had fallen and had cuts/scrapes on his arm, hand and head. Richard had gotten the bleeding to stop but needed to know how best to provide first-aid. I was in a panic and wanted them to take him to the ER but they insisted it wasn’t that bad! I called to check on him every day and he insisted he was fine but missed me.

I returned Sunday night but Dad was already in bed. Monday morning (Memorial Day) Dad awoke and was thrilled to have me home. He summed up all that he felt when he hugged me tight and said, “I am so glad you are home. I missed you. Everybody did ok but things aren’t right when you aren’t here. They don’t take care of me the way you do.”
I was not so thrilled to see that he had what appeared to be Conjunctivitis in both eyes. The cut on his arm had been cleaned and bandaged, as was his hand. His head had a small cut but no bump. I called the doctor but they were closed for the holiday.

On Tuesday morning, I called and got us an afternoon appointment. I was right about the eyes, he had a case of good old Pink Eye. Oral antibiotics 3 times a day for 7 days and antibiotic eye drops 4 times a day. The doctor was unconcerned about the small cut on his head but he decided it was time we explore the reasons for the falls more thoroughly. At this point, we have pretty much ruled out medication as a reason (we have cut out virtually anything that could cause dizziness or loss of balance in the last 2 months). He scheduled Dad to do Lab work on Thursday.

On Wednesday, we met Dad’s new Dermatologist. He explained that they were going to do Moh’s Micrographic Surgery on Dad to remove the cancer on June 30th. Dad has Squamous Cell Carcinoma (sometimes referred to as non-melanoma carcinoma). Although generally more aggressive than Basal Cell Carcinoma, this cancer is highly treatable. The procedure can take anywhere from 1 ½ hours to 5 hours. There is no way to know ahead of time exactly how long it will take.

On Thursday, we went in for the ordered lab work. Now, we wait until our appointment next Tuesday to find out the results. We are still trying to get in with the Neurologist to have him tested for a host of Neurological possibilities for what is causing his loss of balance, dizziness and fainting. The lab work makes me feel like we are taking a more active role in finding the problem. Deep in my heart, I fear that it is simply a matter of “old age”.

Friday was rather unremarkable since we didn’t have any appointments and Dad has been sleeping a lot all week because his eyes are bothering him.

Today, he rested a lot again. Jordyn spent the day trying to find ways to involve Dad, ways to get him to communicate or connect with him. He did play several games of Gin Rummy with Jordyn (which I take as definite progress). He also let Jordyn make him a grilled ham & cheese sandwich for lunch. We have got to get Dad interested in doing something, anything! I am surprised and delighted that my 11 year old sees the importance of this and takes an active part in trying to help. As I point out frequently to Dad, I need him to spend time with Jordyn... Jordyn needs it. Once again, I am reminded that we can do anything as long as we work together as a family to accomplish our goals!

The Biopsy Results Are In

May 26,2010

Last night, between 2:30 & 3:00 am, I heard a noise upstairs that woke me up. I went up and peeked in on the boys who were all sleeping peacefully. As I turned back toward Dad’s room, I heard something. It was one of those noises you know you should recognize but just can’t quite put your finger on. I tiptoed as quietly as I could down the hall and stopped short of the doorway as I saw Mom’s wheelchair roll into view, followed by Dad pushing it. It only took an instant for me to register that he had her cremains in it and was pushing it around the bedroom. He was talking softly to “her”.
With the definite feeling that I was intruding on something incredibly precious and extremely private, I began to back my way out of sight. It wasn’t until I reached the stairs that I realized tears were flowing down my face. In that moment, I missed her more than I have since the moment she died.
This morning when I went to wake the boys for school, I glanced in on Dad. Her remains were back in their place on top of her jewelry chest and the wheelchair was back in its place. I would have been able to have convinced myself it had all been a dream until I noticed that one of her favorite shirts (the only piece of clothing Dad had insisted on keeping) was draped over the back of the wheelchair and one of her porcelain dolls was in the seat. I knew he had found his own way of connecting with her in the wee hours of the morning and I was happy for him.


Just after lunch today the phone rang. It was Dad’s primary physician’s nurse. The test results from the biopsies he’d had last week were in. The good news is the results on his wrist were normal. The bad news… on the cheek was a definite malignancy. She explained that he was being sent to a Dermatologist (who would determine if it was simply skin involved). The fear is that it has already progressed enough to be in his cheekbone. At his age, and in his state of physical health, Dad cannot have Chemotherapy. My heart shattered yet again as I absorbed the ramifications. Arrangements were made for the Doctor to call my cell phone over the next couple of days to schedule an appointment (I will be out of town for the next several days). We were going to move very quickly on this.
As soon as I got off the phone, I went and sat down on the floor next to Dad’s chair. I put a hand on his arm. “Dad, that was the doctor’s office. They got the results of your biopsies back.”
“Well, what did they say?” His eyes were so clear and aware. His voice was strong when he said, “What happens now?”
I replied, “We go to a new doctor. We are being sent to a dermatologist and he will tell us where we go from here.”
He grinned. He actually grinned and patted my hand, “Well, we are just going to have to make it clear to him that we can’t have him cutting my face all up. My public demands that I look good and I’m sure Hollywood will be calling any day now with my new contract.”
I couldn’t help but smile (this has been a running joke as long as I have known Mom and Dad). I saw the worry enter his eyes but he put on a brave face. “If we have to go to a new doctor, then we have to go. But I think it’s all a waste of time.”
“Dad, we have to fight this thing.”
“Ok, if you say so. I guess I don’t have much choice if I want to stay alive.” He smiled again as he winked. “But we have to call my agent first thing in the morning.”
My heart sang as I realized something… Dad wants to live!

Kidneys, Tears and Fears

May 24, 2010


The last few days have been intense to say the least. Friday afternoon (May 21st), we went to see Dad’s Kidney Specialist for his quarterly check up. I found out at the last one in Feb., that Dad’s kidneys are severely damaged. His latest test results indicate that his kidneys are only functioning at about 35%. Reality check… there is nothing that can be done to stop it but there are a few things we can try that might slow the deterioration down. The first of which is several medication changes starting with his high blood pressure meds. He has been on one med that could be the reason for the declination in his kidney function. Ironically, it’s one of the ones his primary doctor had cut in half a few days before. We won’t know if it’s working until the end of July when he goes in for lab tests again.

On Saturday afternoon, Dad was watching TV and Jordyn was walking through to get something from the kitchen. Dad told him to “come here”. When Jordyn approached his chair, Dad struggled to his feet and wrapped Jordyn in a big hug. “If I am not here this summer, and I might not be. You never know…” Dad told him. “I want you to know I love you and I’m proud of you. You are going to set the world on fire if you will just stay on track.”
Jordyn was blown away and immediately came to find me. His eyes filled with tears, he relayed what had happened. “Nonni, was Pop trying to tell me he is going to die?” his voice quivered. “I mean, I know he’s old and stuff but he was acting really weird. Is he going to die… like soon?”
I turned to face him and tried to be as honest as I could, “Honey, he IS old and nobody has a clue when he, or anybody else for that matter, is going to die. He’s just missing Munner very, very much right now.”
Before I could say another word, he threw himself down on the couch and pulled a pillow over his head as gut-wrenching sobs wracked his body. I ran to him, “Honey, what is it?”
His reply was muffled so I wrestled the pillow from his grasp. Between sobs he cried in such a lost voice, choking on his tears, “She really isn’t ever coming back is she? Munner is really dead and I am never going to see her on earth again. I just realized… And Pop… It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!”
I knew it would eventually hit him I just never thought it would take so long or hit so hard. I pulled him into my arms and let him bawl it out.
He eventually wore himself out crying and hiccuped as he gulped in air. “Nonni,” he asked in a subdued voice still full of tears, “I didn’t get it before. I don’t want Pop to want to die.”
I squeezed him tightly, “I don’t either, Jordyn. But, it’s like Pop’s said through all of this… Whatever happens, we just have to believe it is God’s Will. And we have to love him even more now that Munner is gone. We have to keep making him want to hang on for as long as we possibly can.”
He nodded solemnly and went to his room. He was quiet the rest of the night but there was a deep sadness that hadn’t been there before, every time he looked at his Pop.


On Sunday, Damien (the only one of our grandchildren that lives out of state) arrived to stay with us for a few days. His other grandparents, GiGi and Grandaddy, who he lives with, brought him. As soon as they left, Dad wanted to know why he hadn’t been introduced to them. I pointed out that he met them when they were here in Dec. He walked around grumbling that people are always telling him things that are “bullshit”. 20 minutes later, he again asked who those people were that had been here. I explained that they were our ex-son-in-laws parents, that their son had been married to our oldest daughter. He doesn’t remember Allen at all and informed me he isn’t even sure who my children are. I went through it with him again (we do this quite frequently).
Dad has been very confused by this new child in the house. I keep Melissa’s 3 children Mon., - Wed. and having an extra kid around really messed with Dad. I can’t begin to count how many times I answered the “Who do these children belong to again?” question on today.
Also of notable mention, Dad was off balance after dinner tonight. I waited until he headed to bed before coming downstairs, to be on the safe side. About 15 minutes later, I heard a small thud and then I heard Cameryn say, “Pop, did you fall down again?”
I raced upstairs and there he was lying on the floor between the sofa and his desk. “Dad!”
He assured me he was fine, just dizzy. As soon as I had determined that he wasn’t bleeding from anywhere, he tried to get up. He couldn’t do it. I had to get behind him and physically pick him up (he was complete dead weight in my arms) and get him seated on his walker. “I didn’t know you were so strong,” he said.
Then he leaned forward and grabbed something from the seat of his desk chair and handed it to me. It was a folder we had spent a great deal of time this evening looking for, a folder that he had insisted somebody had gone into his desk and stolen. I insisted no one had stolen it, he had simply misplaced or moved it himself.
“On the bright side, I found this on the floor under my desk. I might not have found it if I hadn’t fallen. Guess nobody stole it after all.”
With a shake of my head, I put it where it belongs and helped him back to bed. Admonishing him again to use the walker if he got up during the night at all.

May 20, 2010

I got up this morning excited at the prospect of going for a long walk on the beach. My solitary walks have become a vital part of my mental health routine. I haven’t been able to resume the habit since 3 days before Mom was hospitalized (over a month ago).
I realized I had neither hat nor sunglasses as I headed home from getting the boys off to school. I decided to go home, change into my swimsuit (might as well get some sun) and grab both. But, when I arrived, Richard was up and getting ready to go job hunting. I, of course, have to be here so I settled on a compromise of going later when he got back home.
As usual, God had a plan. If I had gone, I would have missed a very important telephone call. Just before Richard left, the house phone rang and he said it was for me. I absolutely never get calls on that phone. He brought it to me and sat down to see who it was.


It was the State Attorney’s office calling to tell me, “In light of your mother’s recent death, we don’t have enough evidence to take Ms. M (T, the infamous ex-caregiver) to trial. Her deposition is null and void because she can’t testify now.
We want to offer her a diversion package that would, of course, include a stipulation that she can never have contact with anyone in the family again. If she did, she would be incarcerated.”
“But what about stopping her from being able to do this again?” I asked as I felt panic begin to rise inside me. “Don’t you get that she preys on the elderly? She takes their money and drains them dry!”
“Well, we do not have the authority to take away her license.”
“What license?” I was almost shrieking. “She is not licensed to practice in the medical field. She let it lapse a couple of years ago and hasn’t renewed it as of last week. Look it up on the internet. I do every couple of months! Her business license???”
He interjected, “You would have to get in touch with the licensing bureau about that…”
“Look, Mom couldn’t have testified anyway. I have tried to tell you that before. She had DEMENTIA. I want to know what can be done to stop T from going out and doing the same thing to other elderly people?” I cried, “The elderly need protection from people like her! I don’t care whether she goes to jail or not. I just don’t want her doing this to anybody else!”
His voice filled with compassion at my outburst, “I will see if we can get a condition set into motion that she can NOT work with the elderly again. I’ll see what I can do and give you a call back, probably this afternoon.”
“I’m here to help you,” he reminded softly. “If this goes forward, your dad is going to have to come in and give us a deposition.”
My voice with thick with the frustration I felt, “He isn’t capable of that! He has Alzheimer’s. He is so confused on the T issue, he thinks she was stealing their pills and going to Mexico to sell them. Half the time, he will tell you that and the other half of the time, He will tell you he thinks she is in jail. He can’t remember what he ate for dinner 5 minutes after he leaves the table!”
“If we attempt to prosecute, we won’t have any choice. His condition will be taken into consideration but he will HAVE to give us the deposition. Let me see if I can get the no elderly condition to go through first.”


As I hung up the phone, I was livid! I get that Mom was T’s main victim. I get that maybe T shouldn’t go to jail over the missing pills (I still think, with good reason, someone else was stealing them). But what about the unauthorized charges on Dad’s credit card? What about the evidence of neglect (and her poor judgment) as time went on? What about the things that were stolen from the house (yes, I know it couldn’t be proven but she and her employees were the only ones here when the items of considerable value went missing)! I do not get why she should be allowed to have ANY opportunity to EVER prey on another elderly person again.
I am indignant! I am furious! I am in physical pain at the thought that she will get a slap on the wrist after all she has put this family through. And I am sickened by the possibility of not being able to prevent it from happening to someone else…

***** If you are lost about T and how she fits in, please see “It Only Takes One Bad Caregiver to Ruin You” **** originally published on this blog on March 22, 2010.

Oh, What a Night

May 17, 2010

Dad has been very quiet today and it is obvious that he is not feeling well. He ate a good breakfast but he went to sit in his chair immediately after. He went back and forth between the chair and lying down on his bed until lunchtime. He ate a good lunch and promptly went to lie down.
I repeatedly told him all day that we had a doctor appointment at 3:15 with his primary physician. So when it was time to leave we slowly made our way into the car and off. The speed limit in the Village is 15 mph most of the way. The instant I inched it up to 17, Dad started lecturing me, “The neighbors want things a certain way here. You can’t go speeding through the Village and not expect somebody to bitch about it.”
I kept it at a steady 17 mph until the limit went up to 23 mph. I wasn’t trying to antagonize him, but I didn’t have my foot on the gas pedal and I didn’t feel like riding the brake. He fussed all the way to the front gate (exactly 1 mile from the house). As we were turning out onto the Hwy, he asked me how much it was going to cost to bury Mom. I explained that he had already paid for everything.
He suggested I call our pastor and ask him when he thought Mom should be buried. As soon as I agreed he announced, “I guess it’s kind of crazy to keep her sitting on the dresser (it’s actually on top of a large free standing jewelry chest). I just kind of like having her there. Tell Pastor Pete I think we should get her in the ground.”
I told him we would do it all however he wanted things done. I repeated everything I had discussed with the pastor about it the last time I spoke to him.
“Well, maybe, as soon as we get everything paid off, you can put us both in the ground. I want to be buried next to your mother as soon as it’s paid off.”
“Dad,” I said calmly. “Mom’s is already paid off. You don’t owe any more money for anything including burial. Yours is being paid for by the accountant every month. And you could easily be alive when it gets paid off. I can’t promise to bury you as soon as you pay it off.”
“But once I pay it off, there won’t be a reason to hang around. So I’m just going to have to see how long it will take to pay everything off,” he made it sound eerily feasible. “Then I will know when it’s ok for me to die.”


The subject dropped there as we finally arrived. Dad insists on loading and unloading his walker from the car. He isn’t capable of it most of the time but he is a gentleman and it rankles him to have a “girl” do it for him. Today was no exception. He struggled to unload it, pushing me out of the way, until he got light headed. He refused to use the ramp and he refused my help picking it up over the curb. When I opened doors for him, he tried to insist I go through first.
He was acting out in a rather childlike manner when we sat down in the waiting room. I offered him a magazine. He declined. He began fidgeting and glanced around the room making a variety of noises for several minutes before he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, SHIT!”
All six of the other people in the room turned to look at him, me included.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” I asked softly.
He pointed to his feet. “I guess I should have put my shoes on to come here.”
I smiled at his slippers and touched his arm. Several people around us smiled and looked away. “I’m sure it’s ok. At least you are comfortable, right?”
“I didn’t even notice it…” his eyes were clear for a moment and infinitely sad.


He turned away and resumed his fidgeting and noise making until we were called to the back. We went into the room where he gets weighed and he proceeded to begin to unzip his pants. As he reached to push them down, the nurse laughed gently and asked him what he was doing.
He shook his head as if to clear away the fog and zipped up his pants before stepping on the scale. The nurse glanced at me with a question in her eyes. I shrugged while shaking my head. My expression clearly said, “It’s just one of those days.”
In the examining room, his blood pressure was taken. I saw the nurse’s concern and asked what it was. 108/47 and his pulse was 49… still too low. The doctor came in and did the biopsy on his cheek. When he finished, he cauterized it. When he was finished he looked over Dad’s hands and arms and decided to do a second biopsy on his wrist, he cauterized that one as well. With Dad’s bleeding history, he didn’t want to take any chances.


On the way home, Dad asked what we were supposed to do with Mom. I asked him what he wanted to do with her. “I really don’t know,” he replied. “I like having her in my room with me. But somehow, I think she is supposed to be buried. How am I supposed to know what to do?”
“Dad, you have to do whatever feels right to you. And you don’t have to decide today. It’s all paid for, so whenever you want to, we can bury her. And if you want her with you, that’s ok, too. I promise, if that’s what you want, I will bury you both at the same time.”
He looked at me as relief washed over his face. “Then I won’t decide today,” he declared as he sat back lost in thought for the rest of the ride.


After dinner, I changed the dressings on Dad’s arm, and on his biopsy sites. I was relieved to finally see signs of healing (after only 10 days this time). As I rose from the table to throw away the mountain of trash that accompanies dressing changes, Cameryn came running into the room.
“Nonni, G’dad said don’t put anything away. Jordyn cut his foot really bad and you got to bandage him up when he’s done washing it.”
I hurried to the bathroom to find Jordyn running water on his bloody foot. As soon as it was clean, we headed for the dining room table to bandage him up. I assessed the cut, knowing he needed stitches but positive I could steri-strip it and he would be fine. I was right so it didn’t take long to patch him up.
As soon as I finished with him, I noticed Ayla curled up in a chair in the living room. I asked her if she was sleepy. She shook her head no and made a funny sound. I looked up at Melissa who asked if she was ok. The words were barely out of her mouth before Ayla threw up all over the chair. Thankfully, it turned out to just be an upset stomach and she has been fine since. Wow, what a night…