Hi guys,

Yesterday while I was visiting him in ICU, Brad asked me if I was OK. It was typical of him to think of others while he almost died from a bad case of the flu which developed into pneumonia.

Physically I'm OK but since we got back from visiting Carol, I'm having some delusions.

The other evening I went to sleep around 8pm, and the dogs woke me up around 10 to go outside. I let them out and then went into Carol's bedroom to check on her. Her bed was empty, so in a panic I started searching the house. I was at the front door getting ready to go out and look down the highway before I realized that she was at Conifer House in Corvallis. I don't know if I was sleepwalking or just confused.

A few nights ago I fell asleep in the living room recliner and when I woke up I swear Carol was on the couch sleeping. When I got up and looked closer she was gone. At night I keep seeing her face with the blank look I got when I tried to hug her at Conifer House. She still doesn't recognize me.

All I know for sure is that I miss her terribly and for now I can't bear to see the state she's in.

This disease has affected our family so much, it's hard to even think about her being gone, but at least she's being cared for, which I'm ashamed to say I failed at. If it hadn't been for Donna and Brad things would definitely been a lot worse. Most of the last six months I've been in a daze and pretty worthless.

Here's a link to Conifer House in Corvallis.

http://www.coniferhousealmc.com/

After experiencing my wife Carol's dip into Alzheimer's, caused by her dementia combined with a UTI, (Urinary tract infection,) I realized what it was like to be the sole keeper of our precious shared memories. I could no longer ask her something like “Remember celebrating our anniversary at the El Tovar in the Grand Canyon? Was that our 9^th or 10^th?”

A memory can be a lonely thing if there's no one to share it with.

It's a terrible experience to lose a loved one, but I believe having a loved one lose their memory of you is just as bad or maybe even worse.

Thankfully Carol's full blown Alzheimer's symptoms were temporary and she has recovered her long term memory. She's taking drugs to alleviate the symptoms, (there is no cure,) and her memory loss now is mostly short term. She loses and misplaces things all day long, but I'll take that any day compared to her not remembering who I am.

Now when I ask her “Remember the moonlight on the snow that night at the ranch in Colorado? We played music all night long.”

“Yes, I remember! Every time I hear the theme from La Dolce Vita I think of that night.”

Learning to Live With Alzheimers

After the shock of realizing that my wife of 52 years no longer recognized or remembered me I was at a total loss. Should I go along with her delusion or should I argue and try to prove who I really was. Arguing proved to be pointless as she couldn't be convinced that I was anything more than a stranger. I didn't think that it could get much worse than that but I was wrong.

We got along fairly well for a week or so (as long as I didn't try to hug her or show any affection,) and one morning I asked Carol if she wanted to go to the grocery store in Newport with me or stay at home. She said she would rather stay at home with the doggies.

When I got back home with a car load of groceries and tried to take an armload into the house she met me at the door and said, “I'm not letting you in, you can't stay here!”

“I live here!” I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say, except, “At least let me bring in the groceries!” Reluctantly, she let me in, and while I unloaded the car and put the groceries away she shouted that I was not her husband and that as soon as I was done I had to leave.

She was sobbing while I got on the phone and left a message on our son Brad's answering service asking if he and his wife Donna would come over to help. By the time they arrived Carol had calmed down some and between the two of them talking to her she finally relented and agreed to let Brad take her to the emergency room at the hospital in Newport.

Later that day Brad called and told me that they diagnosed her having a urinary tract infection which for some reason, is known to cause big problems, including anxiety attacks in Alzheimer's patients. Brad brought her home with a prescription for Cipro, an antibiotic.

Several days later the four of us went to our family doctor and he prescribed some medicine to help ease Carol's anxiety and panic attacks and hopefully help with her memory loss. We're getting along pretty well now, I guess she thinks of me as some kind of family friend and we seem to do OK with that unspoken understanding, but I sure do miss those good morning and goodnight hugs and kisses.

I hope her memory of me comes back. I keep playing oldies on the boom box and looking at family pictures with her but for now I just have to nod when she asks me if I ever met her and Bob's son, Rick. I think to myself, yes honey, I watched him being born. Dammit! I'm Bob!

Legend

This morning I had to call 911.

Carol was having a bad anxiety attack, and I couldn't help her. She wanted “to go home to her family” and take the dogs with her. She was sobbing and having trouble breathing.

When the ambulance arrived and they were checking her vitals one of them said,”Oh my God! Do you guys know who this is? She's a central coast legend! She logged more volunteer hours than anyone!” He looked at her and asked, “Do you remember me? You helped break me in on driving the ambulance.” When I saw her face light up I almost cried.

In a few minutes it was old home week and Carol's anxiety slipped away as they remembered people they had worked with and where they were now.

Her vital signs had returned to normal and the head paramedic said that he didn't think that a trip to the hospital was necessary. I agreed.

After they left I asked Carol where her award certificates were. She found them in a paper grocery bag behind a chair in the living room. We sat down on the couch and looked at them. There was a whole stack of awards for 3,000 hours of volunteer service for a year. Only one of them was framed, and I leaned it up on a shelf where everyone could see it.

Alzheimer's Disease

Alzheimer's

We started out calling Carol's constant misplacing and losing things “Forgetfulness,” or the then humorous, CRS (Can't Remember Shit!) or CRAFT (Can't Remember A Frigging Thing!) As it got worse, we got serious and called it “Short Term Memory Loss.”

A trip to a Corvallis neurologist resulted in a diagnosis of “Progressive memory loss and Dementia” and a recommendation to the DMV to revoke her driver's license. (Which they did.)

For a few years we coasted along, hoping that the symptoms wouldn't get any worse, but there was always that Gorilla hiding in the shadows called Alzheimer's Disease. It wasn't so bad, going on treasure hunts every day looking for things that Carol lost or misplaced. I had a checklist of likely places to look, no matter what we were looking for: Refrigerator, freezer, microwave, couch cushions, under her pillow, trash cans, it was almost a game.

Then the Gorilla came out and punched me right in the heart.

It was a normal evening. We'd had our once a month lunch at the Salty Dawg and we were at home watching TV when Carol looked at me and said, “Who are you? I don't remember you!”

At first I thought she was kidding but when I saw the look on her face, I knew.

I knew.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I, I'm retired.” I stammered, at a loss for words.

“Huh, so is Bob,” she said.

“I'm Bob!” I answered, “We've been married for 52 years!”

I'll never forget the blank look on her face when she looked at me.

I was a stranger.

The Last Walk

I enjoy walking...always have. Especially on a beautiful day like this.

They told me that if I wanted to walk, I'd just have to go up and down the hallways. That's not the same thing, so today I left.

    This noisy highway isn't exactly my favorite place, but maybe I can find a more peaceful side road. Just because my memory fails me every now and then, they put me in that “home.” I hate it. The doctors say I have Alzheimer's and that I can't live by myself at my house any more. I was doing just fine until I got lost that time.

    Say, this gravel road is much nicer, I must have turned off the highway without realizing it. I can smell newly mowed grass, wood smoke and someone's backyard barbecue. The houses are farther apart now, and I'm getting into farm country.

    There's a white horse!

Zitz!

That's what we kids used to say whenever we saw a white horse while we were out driving in my dad's old Ford. And we used to read the Burma Shave signs, too.

THE BEARDED LADY
TRIED A JAR
NOW SHE'S
A FAMOUS MOVIE STAR
BURMA-SHAVE

How can they say my memory's gone if I can remember things like that!

     This is the one of the most enjoyable walks that I can remember, it's warm, a nice cool breeze is blowing through the trees, and my arthritis hasn't bothered me at all. In fact, I feel better than I have in years. I think I could walk forever.

     Sometimes when people come to visit me at the home and I don't know who they are, they get upset and cry. I try to remember them, but to me they're strangers. Other times, I remember my family when they visit. The doctors say I'm getting worse, but I don't believe them. No matter what they say, I can still remember lot's of things, like the music from the ice cream truck when it came around the corner of our block when I was a little kid, and my first kiss.

    I must have taken another side road while I was day dreaming, and this one is even prettier. There's grass growing between the tire tracks and the trees on the sides are almost touching overhead. It looks like the road ends here in a grassy turn-around. The moving sunlight and shadows on the ground are so mesmerizing that I think I'll sit against this tree and rest for a while. There are birds singing melodies that I've never heard before, or maybe I just don't remember them. It's cooling off as evening falls, but I'm warm and comfortable.

    I'll just sit here for a while and enjoy the sunset.

    I can remember everything now.

Our Soap Opera

Lately we seem to be living in a never ending soap opera.

The days of our lives are overshadowed by illness and heartache. As the world turns on it's axis, we spend much of our time in the dark shadows of General Hospital. We only have one life to live, but all my children are still among the young and restless.

In last seasons episodes:

Carols C.R.S.* problems worsened, and Roberts cancer was deemed “non aggressive.”

Adam was lost in a boating accident in Alaska and Aiden swam to safety. Nicole, Aiden and Isabell moved into their new house.

David and Allison moved into a new house. David started a new job. Walker started walking.

Brad also started walking (without a cane) and passed his drivers test using hand controls. He discovered that he can run when being chased by wasps. Donna is studying at Community College and awaiting an MRI for her episode of *C.R.S.

Don and Dianna split up, dividing their kids; Austin with Don, and Shelby with Dianna. Don had a stroke and began physical therapy. Don and Austin got in a fight and Austin moved out.

Taz got a hot spot on his butt and Squeak found new neighbors to bark at.

Expect more intrigue and excitement in the next seasons episodes.

*Can't Remember Shit!

Getting old sucks!

I've had Biopsies, Cat scans, MRI's, Echo Cardiograms, a Colonoscopy, Cystoscopy. an EGD (whatever that is) Xrays, countless blood tests and I still keep finding more things going wrong with my body.

I can't sleep on either side anymore because of arthritis in my hips, and I can't sleep on my back in bed because of apnea and snoring so loud I wake myself up, so I moved into the den and onto my recliner. It keeps my head and upper body elevated (to avoid acid reflux) and my feet elevated (for edema in my ankles and feet). Hopefully my Urologist won't advise me to elevate my junk, because my recliner won't bend that way.

I'm taking four different prescription pills, one and a half four times a day for Parkinson's, one three times a day for the nausea caused by the Parkinson's pills, and two once a day for prostate cancer. I quit taking the one for the constipation caused by the one that...Oh shit, I lost track.

I wear compression stockings, (Geezer squeezer socks) for the edema. The first time I tried putting them on I almost wiped myself out. It was like getting into a wrestling match with myself and losing! I finally found a Youtube video that showed a better way to put the damn things on. (It still ain't easy!)

I have alarm clock software in my computer that tells me when to take my pills, which I keep in a pill minder to keep track of what pills to take when the alarm goes off.

I know it could be a lot worse, I'm lucky to get around as well as I do. A lot of old timers who are hurting much more than I am will probably laugh at my meager list of complaints, but then, I'm probably not through yet!

I wrote lyrics several years ago about Parkinson's Disease; if your old enough you might remember Monty Python's “I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK.” If you don't, here's a YouTube link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zey8567bcg

I'm a shaky guy and I don't care

I drool on my pillow here and there

My jaw wiggles every time I yawn

I'm way too tired to mow the lawn

It's quite a sight when I try to eat

My fork keeps dropping that piece of meat

Everything I say is answered by What?

My voice is a whisper I repeat a lot

My writing is tiny of this I'm sure

I can't even read my own signature

It could be worse I do know that

I just sit here in my cowboy hat

drinking red wine in my favorite chair

I'm a shaky guy and I don't care

How To Mispronounce Colorado

I don't know when it started but somehow the pronunciation of the state name has changed. When I was a kid growing up and going to school there, everyone pronounced it Col as in doll, a as in duh, rad as in dad, o as in oh. Colorado!

    I first noticed this insidious change while watching Joe Buck announce a Bronco's game on TV. He repeatedly said Cal a raw do. I thought maybe it was just Joe Buck being ignorant as usual but when I started paying attention I realized that even the local news casters were mispronouncing it.

   Maybe since I left, (I live in Oregon now) too many Californians have moved there and changed it to Calorawdo, which is easier for them to remember.

    Don't get me started on Oar a gone!

Egg Hunt

At our age every morning is like an Easter egg hunt.

    A leprechaun or something comes in during the night and hides, among various other things, the TV remote, slippers, one sock, dentures, our favorite coffee cups or my reading glasses, (I have three pair, one for the computer, one for reading and one for really serious things like watch repair or brain surgery.) Sometimes all three pairs get hidden, and then I'm searching with a real handicap.

    No matter what's missing, I have a search pattern that I go through with varying success – (any of the above missing items have at one time or another, been found in the following places)... dishwasher, microwave, refrigerator, refrigerator freezer, bathroom medicine cabinet, under a bed, fireplace, patio, or in one of the dogs mouths.

    Once we say “Oh screw it!” and give up the search, the leprechaun (or whatever it is) usually takes pity on us and lets us find whatever we were looking for, usually in the last place we look. (Funny how you always find things in the last place you look!)

    Oh well, it's an every day challenge and it's kind of fun!)