Category Archives: Memories

Connection between loneliness and Alzheimer’s?

I read an interesting study today that suggested there may be a connection between loneliness and Alzheimer’s. What was most interesting was that it was those who felt lonely versus those who lived alone but didn’t express feelings of loneliness that had a higher incidence of Alzheimer’s.

It was a surprising result to the researchers. I’ve read numerous studies about social isolation leading to everything from dementia to depression. I wonder if these studies have some inbuilt bias towards extroverted people. There are some people who need constant company or they feel lonely; others can interact socially with people once or twice a week and be perfectly happy.

I’m not sure if Dad felt lonely before Alzheimer’s set in. Dad certainly had a passion for “alone time” activities like reading. He also had a solitary job as a security guard for many years. So like me, he was comfortable being alone and entertaining himself. Did he yearn for more socializing? That I will never know.

But what is clear to me is that once Alzheimer’s took hold of my father, he was whisked away into an isolating world, where we really could no longer connect with him in a meaningful way. And I saw that same isolation play out on the faces of every patient in the dementia ward of the residential facility where my dad spent the last year of his life. I remember so many residents reaching out, touching my arm, trying to communicate with me, hoping to make some kind of human connection. I often felt like I let them down when they shuffled away after an awkward, confusing exchange.

I hope there are more studies investigating social isolation and dementia, and I hope they take into account that both introverts and extroverts exist, and that the definition of loneliness is different for every human being.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

The caregiver’s curse

Mom is recovering in an amazing fashion from her major surgery that was just performed yesterday. The surgeon came to check on her today and sketch out a plan for the next few days.

Mom took the opportunity to tell the doctor about how she had cared for Dad at home for 2-3 years until his dementia became too much for her to handle at home. She had been healthy for 74 years, and then all hell broke loose.

The surgeon nodded sympathetically. “I have heard so many stories just like yours. There’s a certain level of adrenaline that kicks in to handle crisis situations, and surprisingly, that level can stay quite high for long periods of time. Then once the loved one dies, the caregiver completely loses that adrenaline boost, and that’s when sickness can kick in.”

It seems particularly cruel that the reward for doing something so selfless and loving as caring for a loved one with a disease can end up causing you to get sick, but that is reality.

Even doctors are admitting that caregiving can be hazardous to your health, but what real alternatives are there? Residential facilities are extremely expensive in the U.S. and out of the financial reach of many families.

I’m an only child. My father passed away a year ago. My mother is now sick. I quit my job to take care of her. Sure, I could put her in a facility and her life savings would be gone in a few months. Home nursing options are limited to a couple of visits per week in the small, rural town Mom lives in. I live in a big, expensive city. There are no easy options here.

We must do better for our elderly, and their families. We need more support, emotionally, physically and yes, financially.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

A storm of emotions

Today was Mom’s surgery day. We had to be at the hospital before sunrise, and the air outside was swirling eerily, a rush of warm wetness with an undercurrent of bitter cold wind. A winter storm warning was in effect, but no one knew quite what Mother Nature would bring.

It was a relief just to get Mom to the hospital. Then she was taken and I was left to sit and stare at the clock in the waiting room, and try to occupy my rushing thoughts like I had done so many times before with Dad. It began to rain, with the skies dark and bruised with clouds.

hospital

Almost two hours dragged by before I receive word Mom was out of surgery. The doctor rushes out and lets me know Mom did great and everything went as planned.

The rain began to pound harder, and the wind picked up with it. Ice pellets start to pop off the ground in the hospital’s garden.

I am led back to see Mom in ICU. She is calm and peaceful, just like Dad had been when he was sedated last year while on a ventilator. There is a serenity that could almost pass for death, but the machines and Mom’s rising chest prove she is quite alive. She opens her eyes and recognizes me. With Mom, I expect this more, but I remember being caught off guard when Dad seemed to recognize me a little over a month before he died.

CNN was just beginning to report the Connecticut school shootings while I was stroking Mom’s forehead in ICU.

I walk back out to the hospital lobby to let Mom rest. People are gathered around the huge windows, staring out into a winter apocalypse. The driving rain has turned into a wet snow, which is being blown sideways by the 40 mph + winds.

The weather reminds me of the winter storm we slogged through last year to see Dad’s body at the mortuary. We barely made it back home before the roads became impassible.

And the same thing happened today. I hated to leave Mom but the nurses said she was doing quite well and I didn’t want to get stranded at the hospital overnight. There were a couple of scary slides and heart-pounding moments on the way back to Mom’s place, but I was finally able to close the door on this emotionally draining day.

3 Comments

Filed under Memories

Mom’s new dream of Dad

Mom is having her second major surgery of the year tomorrow. Of course, she’s having a great deal of anxiety about it. Major surgery carries plenty of risk factors that can lead to death, and as you get older and have other complications (like Mom’s blood clots) that potential brush with death seems even more real.

This morning, Mom wanted me to wake her up so we could go for some pre-surgery blood tests. I stopped in the bathroom first, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep. Suddenly, through the door, I heard a plaintive plea:

“Pat! Pat! Pat!”

Pat was my Dad’s name.

I rushed out of the bathroom and Mom realized that she was having a dream and it was actually her daughter in front of her. She said she was having a dream about Dad, and had mistakenly called out his name instead of mine.

Perhaps Dad is sending supportive and loving energy from wherever he is now. I know he wouldn’t want Mom to suffer, and would do whatever was in his power to make her better.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

The secret lives of hospital staff members

When a loved one is in the hospital, you come into contact with a whole array of professionals that you might not meet otherwise. During Dad’s November 2011 hospital stay in Albuquerque, we met a fascinating respiratory therapist.

While he was twirling dials and recording data off of Dad’s ventilator machine that he was in charge of managing, the respiratory therapist told us about the novels he had written. One was about a serial killer, and I can’t remember what the other one was about, but it had a complicated plot line. He said the two books had TV rights picked up by HBO. There was no particular reason to lie about it, so I guess he was telling the truth. With all of the events that have transpired this year, I haven’t had time to follow up on his projects to see if they ever saw the light of day.

But beyond discussing his writing, he was just a fascinating man in general. He could fly helicopters and would help in search-and-rescue operations. He was an intriguing mix of risk and responsibility.

Since I would love nothing more than be a successful writer, I had to ask why he was still working at a hospital. He simply replied that he loved the work. I was glad to know that someone so dedicated to his work was personally taking care of my dad’s breathing needs while he was under sedation.

Recently I thought about this interesting man again, and wondered if he’s still working at the hospital or if his writing career has really taken off. As a writer, I hope for the latter, but for the patients’ sake, I hope for the former.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

Cheap cologne sets a reminder of Christmas

I had the misfortune of finding myself shopping in Walmart today. Mom wanted to stock up on some things prior to surgery, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it when she is released from the hospital after her surgery.

Any kind of giant store like Walmart makes my vertigo go crazy. The entire store is sensory overload, and then there’s the constant dodging of other customer’s carts. Mom went to get her hair done so I was left alone to shop. (And if you’ve ever shopped with an elderly woman, you know it’s preferable to shop alone!)

cologne

As I sped through the Christmas gift section, to get from the pharmacy department to the grocery side of the store, my gaze picked up a gift box of men’s cologne. It immediately gave me a pang in my heart. Every year, I would buy Dad one of those box sets of cologne. I would usually get Stetson or Grey Flannel. It was an easy to select gift that I honestly never put any thought into. Dad wasn’t into presents, so he never asked for anything specifically. I didn’t want him to feel left out so I tried to get him almost as many gifts as I would get my mom, who would gush over every little cheap trinket I would get for her.

Dad always seemed to appreciate the cologne, even if all he did was mumble a thanks when he opened it. He definitely used it every day, and the scent of men’s cologne will always remind me of my father.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

First snow brings sad memories

Last night, the first snow fell at Mom’s house. I’m staying with her until she has her colostomy reversal surgery this Friday. In 10 days, it will be the first anniversary of my father’s death.

snow-edit

The snow is beautiful, but also is a silent and stark reminder of the sad events that have plagued my family over this past year. I wrote about this more on Cowbird.

Over time, I’m sure I will be able to enjoy the beauty and pleasure snow can offer, but right now, it’s just a reminder of difficult times.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

Pretending to be normal

As I mentioned in my post on Christmas cards, no one wants to be Debbie Downer during the holiday season. I’m now facing back-to-back depressing holiday seasons. It is an added strain to smile and say “happy holidays” to well-meaning strangers right now.

I think Dad was always a bit melancholy because his mother passed away pretty close to the holidays and that loss haunted him for the rest of his life.

So I cannot just pretend that the sad events of the past year didn’t happen, but it does make you rethink your priorities during this season. It should be less about gifts and more about spending quality time with those you love.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

The fruitcake follies

Neither of my parents were able to see their relatives during the holidays. They all lived across the country or across the globe. So my mom started a family tradition by sending her relatives in Tennessee fruitcakes for Christmas.

Did her family really like the annual gift of the holiday dessert that has long been the butt of jokes? Well, one of her sisters said she froze it, so I’m not so sure. (I think it may still be sitting in her freezer!)

fruitcake

Well, after watching Mom order a slew of fruit cakes each year for her family, Dad decided he wanted to get into the fruitcake-ordering frenzy. Of course, things were a bit more complicated because Dad’s relatives were in Ireland and Australia. So there were some shipping snafus (and expenses) involved. I remember hearing nothing but fruitcake ordering drama for a week or so, until it all got straightened out. And Dad’s family never received another fruitcake! (I’m guessing they were secretly relieved!)

But I’m reminded of our family’s fruitcake story every time I see an ad for Collin Street Bakery.

It’s funny how something as trivial as an ad can bring back a memory so clearly.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories

Dad’s headache in the maternity ward

Dad was always a bit squeamish when it came to pain or any kind of medical procedures. So it’s not surprising that he wasn’t exactly a “hands-on” Dad when it came time for Mom to give birth to me.

Even though Mom was 37 and I was her first (and as it turned out only) child, Mom had a surprisingly easy labor. Mom’s water broke while Dad was working one evening. He rushed home and off to the hospital they went. I was born a little after 10 p.m. Mom was only in labor for a few short hours. (Well, once the contractions kicked in, the hours may have stretched for Mom, ha.)

My dad holding me as a baby. Such a happy photo.

My dad holding me as a baby. Such a happy photo.

Apparently Dad disappeared shortly after Mom was taken to a hospital room and was being prepped to head to the delivery room. He took off in search of some aspirin for his “headache.” He probably needed something a bit stronger than that to get him through my birth!

But he was certainly eager to see me on my first day on this earth, even with a knot on my head and some wisps of red hair sticking out from it. To Dad, I was a perfect, beautiful baby.

Leave a comment

Filed under Memories