Thursday, March 29, 2012

just for today

Becca is making lemon cupcakes. I had two reasonably satisfying visits with Jeff at Sunrise. The Daily Show is on in 12 minutes. So, based on an in-the-moment assessment, things are ok. At least in the moment.

Out of the moment, who knows? It is probably good for everyone, whatever her life situation, to just-be as much as possible, and not tap into the static of the surrounding craziness on your existential timeline. But Alzheimer’s likes to bring you that lesson in technicolor, so you might as well learn it. The sooner the better.

Check with me tomorrow and I’ll probably have forgotten it.

Friday, March 23, 2012

I still don't have too much to say about it.

Jeff lives at Sunrise now. It is an assisted living site, and his specific “neighborhood” there is the Reminiscence wing, first floor, Cypress Creek entrance. It’s hard for me to know what to say about this, which is why I haven’t said much as this process got underway and moved to completion.

There is a hole here in the house where his presence is meant to be. Sometimes someone walks in a way that sounds like Jeff walking downstairs. Yesterday, the timbre of a voice gave me a similar sensation.

I’ve been going by twice a day. This is easy. Sunrise is a two minute drive from my house, and--with my credit card bonus points (which I’ve been essentially unaware of for a decade plus)--I’ve ordered a bike, so I can go the eco way.

Before he moved, I played multiple roles in the confabulated parallel universe Jeff slips in and out of. Sometimes I’m my mother, Gale. Sometimes I’m Julianne Crough, his tomboyish childhood nemesis. Sometimes I’m Dr. Miller. Sometimes his sister Helen. Now, maybe there are enough other people around that I am not required to embody so many players, because so far when I drop in I’m always Emily.

Jeff assumes he’s still at home. The rocking chairs in the fenced yard are our front porch. His room is his room, nevermind that there is now a bedbound Mr. Schaller around the corner at the window end of the room.

Jeff doesn’t spend much time in his room anyway. There are many alcoves to wander in and out of, many windows to look through, and many places to stop and take a seat. I am told he was a willing participant in “RU-Fit with Sheila,” the bringer of group exercise. Three days in, I am willing to say (with cautious optimism) that Jeff is as content at Sunrise as he was at home. Maybe more. It is possible that the planned activities, and greater availability of people to interact with, use up energy that might otherwise be spent fretting about law school or other perceived goals.

He crashed in a big way in 2012, cognitively speaking. I have all sorts of thoughts and second thoughts about the “rightness” of putting substantial family funds into his care. This is one of the two things I just can’t really think about too much. The other thing is what will I begin to fill my life with? I don’t know. Yes, I’ve had plenty of fun with existential angst in my life, but now I will just have to be a zen master. Best option.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Broadcasting live from Queasy Square...

I’m not doing much this week. Well, a few things...I’ve loaded a laundry basket full of Jeff’s clothes, gathered hangers, toiletries and picture hangers, prepared a small photo album, and designated a comfortable IKEA chair as the one which will initially occupy a little of the space in Jeff’s room at Sunrise.

Jeff just asked me if I’d like to go back into broadcasting. Thinking of how to answer...”I’m not sure I’d like broadcasting,” I say. “I guess I wouldn’t mind working behind the camera.” What I don’t say is “Who do you think I am today?”

Soon I will pause, mid-paragraph, and follow him down the street again. Today, he is identifying every house in our neighborhood as being either “the old WBAL weather-station,” or “the new WBAL weather-station.”

There was a lot of paperwork. I’m pretty good at paperwork and convening the necessary documents. My accountant always thanks me for being organized. My contact, Kim, at Sunrise also seemed surprised that I got everything together so efficiently. I rarely feel either efficient or organized. I think I’m just apt to latch onto tasks as distractions.

Sunrise is 2 minutes from my house. 10 minutes if I walk. I can be there often. I can provide context even if I’m a broadcaster. Everyone from my Alzheimer Spouse cohorts to the move-in staff at Sunrise tells me that this will be more difficult for me than it is for Jeff. I don’t care how difficult it is for me. I’m used to difficult. Mainly I don’t want to bring him any distress. But if he stays here and I completely lose my equanimity (and it has threatened to depart many times recently,) I will be of no use.

Thursday, March 08, 2012

Otterbein

Most of my yesterday was spent on guard, trotting outside as necessary to walk with Jeff as he strode purposefully down the street, on a hunt for the “New Otterbein Street.” The house Jeff built from the ground up, and which we lived in for our first two years of marriage (as he completed it around us...a theme was to recur in our lives,) was on Otterbein St, in Baltimore. But I can’t tell you precisely what this “New Otterbein” was meant to be, and I’m sure that even in his head it was little more than a waking dream, believable to him, but connected to reality only by the most tangential of threads. I can tell you that there was, apparently, a sign in virtually every yard we passed telling him that this one was the “Old Otterbein.” A distracting dish of ice cream bought me a few minutes, but mostly, yesterday, I stood guard.

I could tell it was destined to be a tricky day when he first asked me about Otterbein Street, and I told him that Gordon still owned it. “Which Gordon?” he asked. Which Gordon? This would be his brother and business partner to whom we sold the house at Otterbein (which was serving as a rental at the time,) when Jeff’s powers began to fail.

2012, the year of change. Maybe that’s all the Mayans meant. That 2012 would be the year Jeff lost any grip on reality or the ability to be remotely re-oriented to the world as we know it. Fortunately, I am able to find life funny, ridiculous, and sad all at the same time as I remind myself how much, in 2011, I was wishing for an end to the “doldrums.” So, okay...thanks? I believe I will have to be buying my way back into life soon. I hope Jeff will adapt.

Sunday, March 04, 2012

I will say though...

...as each day comes and goes, it feels less premature.