Tag: #AtoZchallenge

A to Z Challenge: Chance

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He had ridden his bike for 20 minutes in the sweltering heat so his dark skin was wet with tiny droplets, which he quickly dispatched with the bottom of his T-shirt.

“How ya doin?” he said with an enthusiasm she could hardly imagine him having. She noticed he was sniffing in the direction of the kitchen. “Cookin’ up somethin good tonight?”

He was a pretty good cook himself, an expert actually, at the kind of food he liked best. When he was given free reign in the kitchen there was usually a lot of tasty fried chicken, and a lot of greasy pans to wash.

But he wasn’t there for the kitchen. The piano was where he was headed. He slid to the middle of the bench and started chording and doing small riffs with a rhythm right out of a black church choir. That’s where he had taken a job, at the St. Stephen’s African Methodist Episcopal Church. Too many names to even fit on the sign.

He had started experimenting with the keyboard after coming to a small hymn sing in the park near his home. His name was Chance, and that’s what she had offered him, a chance to learn. He was short for his 13 years of growing, and there was one hand that hadn’t grown normal fingers, not that it kept him from learning the chords he was taught. He loved playing on the black keys – his fingers had no trouble landing on those.

“You going to teach me to read notes today. We got to work on that. They want me to be able to play printed music and I’m fakin’ it now.”

He could listen to a tune and play it accurately after one go. With soul. But he wasn’t familiar with a lot of church music and had to hear it played first. That’s what she did for him. “Wish I could do like that Miss Allie. Let me hear that verse part again.” But no matter what the lesson was, he would end up playing his favorites, quickly tiring of practicing notes on lines and spaces.

He would make it look so easy, going up and down the keyboard with chord progressions that were not the usual, but so compelling. She had told him that the piano was in the percussion family of instruments – hammers hitting strings inside a box – but his brand of percussion was foot on the pedal. It felt like the room was moving, and more than once she had to remind him to go easy. He had broken the inner workings of the sustain pedal once already.

He sang too. Quite well.

It was the beginning of a long acquaintance that branched out into lots more than music. Not all of it was easy or pleasant, but his optimism and bravado rarely failed him. Well, there was that one time…

A to Z Challenge: Very Tough Times

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Alzina Boone, widowed at a young age and with a family of four children to support, finds herself struggling to be a teacher at school, and a mother at home. In the early days of Kansas settlement, life was not easy for anyone, much less a single parent. Her faith in a caring God, and sheer necessity kept her going when others might have given up. She was my great grandmother and these are her true stories.

1904 – 1905

Alzina moved the family 45 miles away to Eskridge for this fall term. Her brother-in-law, Ora, was trustee on the board of Eskridge Bible School and she contracted to teach there in return for $15 a month and room and board for herself and the four children. She was not always paid when it was due and things got tough.

“The trustees failed to pay me the $15 agreed upon, and the matron of Faith Home objected to my discipline of her twelve year old daughter and tried to get the trustees to dismiss me. Two trustees stood for me, so the matron and her daughter left about the middle of the year. I had become inspired with the vision that more than half of the supporters of the Eskridge Bible School had for the future of the school, and I decided I would stay with the work as long as I had evidence of God’s approval and of these good people. I had the work of the Faith Home to take care of after the matron left. There were four children beside my four, all near the same age as mine. In addition to this was my work as teacher of four grades.

Alzina (far right) and a group of her students.

There were times when we didn’t know where we would get anything for the next meal. It was truly an adventure of faith for me, but I had felt that God wanted me there, and would see me through. So I didn’t complain to my parents, or to Ora, my brother-in-law, though he was a trustee, but was having his own tests and persecutions and adventures of faith, of which we may write later.

The trustees sent a basket of bread to us each Tuesday, and my cow gave two gallons or more of milk each day, and pasture was provided by friends. The closest test was one day when, at noon, we had eaten the last boat of bread or any kind of food in the house. I told the children about it and said that we would meet in the dining room right after school to pray as did the orphans in the London Orphan’s Home, of which much had been read and told in the Faith Home Circle.

At 4 o’ clock, after all pupils had gone home, I put away my papers and closed my desk to go home. As I passed through the door from my room to the hallway, Mrs. Cody, who had seemed to join in opposing me, was coming down the steps, and she handed me a 25 cent piece, saying “The Lord told me to give this to you.” So I was happy to tell the children to thank the Lord for answering before we even called.

I bought a sack of cornmeal and we had mush and milk for the evening and the morning meal. And the basket of bread came before noon next day. I cannot say that God would have one teacher bear such a load of responsibility and faith with so little cooperation, but I am glad for this experience which proved that God honors those who dare to sacrifice for his cause, and trust his promises.

In the spring when school was out, we rented a four room cottage in the northeast part of Eskridge at four dollars a month, where we lived six months or more.

As Stanley had learned to set type in the office of “The Old Paths”, founded by Ora as organ of the Eskridge Bible School, he applied and secured a job at the Eskridge newspaper office at $5 a week, ten hours a day for six days a week. While Stanley had a job, it seemed best that we should stay at this place until something else opened. Thus the three other children could be kept in the Bible School. I was not invited to teach there.

John raised some garden and chickens, and took good care of the cow, and by little jobs here and there, he usually had some money in his pockets. It seemed almost magical and we laughed gaily about his always finding money to his surprise in his pockets.”

Random Spring

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Today it is raining and blustery. Will it snow once more in the hours ahead? It’s possible. I never know how to dress for my daily walks – down coat, rain jacket, only a sweatshirt, hat? So I put it all on and take it off and carry it if I have to. For our spot on this planet, the month of March is never sure whether she is winter or spring, which leaves us waiting in various ways. Life is just a little more eclectic and full of random activities, waiting activities.

We watch the snow melt. I know it’s hard to imagine that being exciting, but when you’ve seen nearly five months of whiteness, a little bare ground is a big deal. It has disappeared from the roads and most of the yards except for the deep snow banks that the snow plows left. There are still patches of snow in the woods where the sun doesn’t shine. The lakes are still covered with rotten ice, but the geese are arriving and looking for any open water in the streams and marshes.

We are cleaning closets, emptying boxes long forgotten, and making decisions. Spring cleaning, it could be called that but it’s much more. It’s like taking trips down memory lane and we spend a lot of time talking about what we are remembering.

We (I) are finally putting December behind us. I turned off the winter lights on Daylight Savings day. The sun is coming up earlier and in a different place on the horizon. The patio furniture is out on the east porch and we are ready for the first day that allows us to sit outside for morning coffee, no longer in the dark and cold.

For some odd reason, I’m finding puzzles to be more than usually comforting. They have appeared in greater than usual numbers too, thanks to friends who have dropped them off. This is the first year that I’ve done puzzles alone since there is no one in the house who cares for them like I do. When my brain needs a break from daily duties, the puzzle is there waiting, demanding nothing, requiring a different kind of focus, full of color, visually interesting, solvable and just challenging enough.

Even the cat is waiting to be let outside. She watches the squirrels at the bird feeder and gets all excited, but only spends a few seconds in the cold when I let her out. She is waiting for the warm times she remembers, and as I watch her sitting in the sun I am reminded of spring window washing duties. I cleaned this window this week and it looks much better now.

Everyone’s chickens are laying eggs now and it is easy to get them fresh from the farms. I get a strange delight at boxes like this one from a chicken breed called Rainbow – for obvious reasons. I am having time to pay more attention to our nutrition and exercise needs. I feel healthier and ready for summer, ready for the sun, and work in the garden.

I am writing, although finding it hard. April Challenge is coming up and I would like to have my posts finished beforehand. It is slow going because my theme is so interesting and personal. Stories of my great grandmother and her family are so thought provoking and absorbing and I find myself spending days thinking about one episode before actually nailing it down. It is hard but I know it will be worthwhile.

And amid all the projects that didn’t get done this winter, there are a few that are getting done. I’m sealing the beautiful outdoor chairs that my uncle made for our patio, and I sawed the backs off my kitchen stools and painted the seats barn red. Now they fit under the counter better. I swept under the stove, vacuumed out the truck, and put away the snow shovels in favor of the rakes. I am even finding time to knit, and that amazes even me. I am grateful for all there is to do that makes waiting an interesting part of life, almost like a season in itself.

I can almost forget I’m waiting,… just sayin’.

#A to Z Theme Reveal

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April is nearly here. For me, that means spring and the end of winter, it means birthday month for me and youngest daughter, and it means the April A to Z Blogging Challenge.

Choosing a theme each year for the blogging challenge has usually been a chore. This year I have tried out several ideas and rejected them, because they required extra time in addition to the writing that I actually have started and want to continue. But wait! I can combine what I am already doing with the A to Z and maybe accomplish both at the same time. First, here’s what I am already working on.

My great grandmother was an amazing woman for her time, feisty, brave, resourceful and independent. And she was a writer. I have her story and will be magnifying her tales of midwestern life in the late 1890’s up to her death in 1954. I have to call it fiction because she leaves room in her story for imagination of the times and circumstances, but it is historical fiction. Hers is a story of family, of faith, of women’s place in society, of handling hardship and sorrow, even of living through pandemic times. I am proud of her and love her story. I think you will too.

The A to Z Blogging Challenge consists of a post every day in April, excluding Sundays, following the alphabet in some way – twenty six days, twenty six letters. Short stories from my great grandmother Alzie’s life will make up my daily posts and I’ll get the alphabetical thing in there somewhere. I look forward to any feedback from readers, because that has been my favorite part of the A to Z in all of the years that I’ve participated. The challenge has been a great tool to stimulate creative ideas, and to develop a consistent writing habit so I recommend it to all writers or readers who want to do something interesting in April. Follow this link (http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com) to learn more and see for yourself.

My favorite April picture from a print at youngest daughter’s house. Creator unknown to me, but I would gladly give credit if I could. Cute.

Reflections on A to Z 2020

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I’ve done the A to Z Blogging Challenge for six years now, and enjoyed it every time. I’m proud that I’ve finished them all, because learning to finish a writing project was my main goal. I was especially grateful this year to learn that I could take a theme, caregiving, and make a cohesive body of information, based on my own experiences. That’s almost like writing a book, and I did it! (A very short book however…)

I truly felt “cheered on” by a group of readers who read most all of my posts. This was valuable since it showed me that my topic did have an audience, and was possibly serving a need. All the comments were kind and helpful, and they weren’t even all from my family and relatives! So good. (That is not to say I don’t appreciate comments from family too – that didn’t come out quite right.)

I think the challenge was well managed and designed this year. The sign-up, master list, badges were all easy to access. Perhaps the smaller number of blogs participating made it seem more streamlined – it was easy to go down the list to find topics I was interested in. I was surprised by the number of blogs I went to read and found they weren’t taking part.

Thank you so much, organizing team and readers. Appreciate you all and hope to read more of you on the Road Trip.

A to Z Challenge: Z for Zeitgeber

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The last letter of the alphabet! This was an interesting and challenging experience, as always, and I am so grateful for all the connections and comments. Thank you all for reading and encouraging me, and other caregivers.

Zeitgeber

I ran across this interesting word as I was studying a book called “The Paleo Approach” by Dr. Suzanne Ballantyne. Zeit means “time” in German and geber means “giver”. A “time giver” is “anything that influences your circadian clock”. Your circadian clock is all about your body’s routine. And routine is one of the most important tools of caregiving.

Examples of zeitgebers are the light and dark cycle, food intake and activity. Regular times for meals, for exercise and for sleep are beneficial to all of us, but especially for the very young, the elderly and for those with dementia. Being able to depend on a routine gives the impression that things are under control, and having any sense of control is comforting.

Routines

Routine is not the easiest thing for me as a caregiver. I am the queen of spontaneity, and will usually go out of my way to break up a routine. But now, I have things I do pretty regularly. One of the most important reasons I’ve developed routines is because they help me not to forget stuff I would otherwise probably forget. Routines also cut down on decision making because we have already decided what and when. And of importance, the routines help my husband know what to expect at various times of the day.

Circadian Rhythms and Sleep

The light/dark cycle is probably the most important zeitgeber, and the one I have the most trouble with. Being outdoors in sunlight during the day, and in the dark at night greatly affects circadian rhythm, which in turn affects the immune system, mental ability, mood, alertness and energy level. Ideally, the husband and I should get as much light exposure as possible during the day. We both should cut down on our screen time at night as well. Blue light from our computers, phones, TVs, and LED fixtures signals our bodies much like daylight does. It suppresses melatonin production. Blue light not only signals through the retina of our eyes, but even our skin has sensitivity to it. In contrast, low light and darkness signal the production of melatonin and bring on relaxation and sleep.

It is dark outside. Due to my circadian rhythms, I am getting sleepy. Take care of yourselves as we go through these strange times. Good night to all.

_____________________________________________________________

This evening Dennis, my husband, came out where I was sitting and apologized. Not knowing what he was apologizing for, we talked and I discovered he had read the X post. He was saying that he was sorry for making things hard for me. I was surprised that he had not read other posts this month, even though he was aware that I was writing on the subject of caregiving. He was sweet, and humbly aware of the impact that his illness has had on me and on our relationship. It’s moments like this that make me know that he is more than just my patient. He is still very much my husband.

Forty-seven years and counting…

A to Z Challenge: Letter Y for Yelling

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Well, it’s not just about yelling. It’s about communicating. When communication is not easy, and is possibly frustrating, yelling can be involved and it begins with Y. I am an opportunist when I have to be. Most of these problems have to do with diminished hearing, poor eyesight, and diminished attention.

Yelling makes people look mean.

Is there a lot of missed communication going on at my house? Sometimes it feels that way. Here are some common scenarios…

The husband thinks I’m listening to him (he may have seen me close by) and starts talking to me while looking elsewhere. He doesn’t know I’ve left and am two rooms away. When I realize he’s talking away to an empty room, I come back, frustrated and have to ask him to repeat.

In the morning when he comes out for his cup of cocoa and sits in the corner recliner. He doesn’t usually have his hearing aids in yet. I ask him what he wants for breakfast but he doesn’t hear. I raise my voice until he tells me I don’t have to yell. We both feel embarrassed.

In the morning he comes out for his cup of cocoa and he DOES have his hearing aids in. I ask him loudly what he wants for breakfast and he jumps and puts his hands over his ears.

“What?! You didn’t tell me that!” This is often said about something that was being discussed in conversation with a group of family or friends. I can understand that it’s hard to admit (or even know) that you’re not hearing what you can’t hear. It’s easier to fake it and assume that someone will get your attention if it’s important. But, dear hard of hearing person, no one knows you haven’t heard…

If you’re caring for an elder, it’s safe to assume that most everyone who is up there in age has some degree of hearing loss. Okay, I don’t have young ears either.

Hearing in noisy environments or over a phone are other risks to good communication. My uncle, who hears fairly well in face to face conversation, gets a little nervous with phone conversations. He sometimes asks me to join him on calls with his financial advisor, not because I’m a financial genius either. He wants to make sure he is hearing things correctly. And who hasn’t faked it in a noisy restaurant? Nod and smile, that would be me.

To make matters more complicated, people who are hard of hearing often hear their own voice through bone conduction. It sounds very loud, so they talk softly and can barely be heard. The husband does this with the result that he can’t hear me and I can’t hear him either. Somehow, even when I’m not angry, having to yell makes me feel like I’m being mean. I don’t like yelling.

We are getting better at communicating. Here are some things we’ve done to lessen the volume and make sure important things are heard.

1. I try to get the TV volume or other noise, turned down before I speak.

2. I look at the person I’m talking to so I know if they are listening, and if they know I’m talking to them. I try to get my husband to do this as well.

3. I communicate plans for the day, important news, etc… directly when there are no competing voices. I try not to assume something has been picked up from conversations with others.

4. Whenever I see confusion, I ask questions to see if there is a misunderstanding.

5. I often leave a written note.

So, back to yelling. I don’t like it. It doesn’t make for good communication and most of the time, even if I’m not mad or frustrated, it makes me feel like I’m being mean and ineffective as a caregiver. When I’m well rested, in my right mind and remembering my above mentioned tips, the communication is much improved. Just sayin’…

A to Z Challenge: X for Exasperated

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(Ex is how you spell X, so this counts.)

Today I am exasperated. It’s a degree of frustration right before one’s head explodes. It happens fairly often in my caregiving world, particularly with my husband.

It’s not that this never happened before, when he was well. We were a fairly normal couple and we had our ways of getting past the rough times and keeping peace. We were both responsible and expected to act like mentally competent adults. Now, as with any situation where a spouse has a mental deficiency of any kind, doubt enters the picture and roles may change.

Many days I am so conscious of having to watch over our world, unaided, while my husband (my patient, is what it feels like) does what he can do, sits and watches TV or looks at his phone. When he wants to talk to me about his angst over politics or his ideas of how to conquer coronavirus, I want no part of it. I want him to do some meaningful task that would help get chores done. I want him to show concern about finances or make a “to do” list like I have to do most days. It exasperates me to have a live-in patient instead of a husband.

And at the same time I begin to feel very guilty for being angry. I am not the only one missing out on our retirement plans. He is sick and I am well, at least for the moment.

For these reasons, caregiving for a spouse, or a live-in family member is not easy emotionally. It usually starts out being a 24/7, 365 days a week job, until burn out sets in, so it’s not easy physically either. I need support and this is how I get it.

1. I have identified people that I can talk to safely, even when frustrated – ones that are regularly available to me and don’t mind if I vent.

My physically present support group that I could not do without.

2. I have joined a couple online support groups. They understand what it’s like and have encouragement/advice for all situations. They always show me I’m not alone in the way I feel.

  • Facebook group: Lewy Body Dementia Carter’s
  • Facebook group: LBDA Care Partner Support Group

3. I have a place I can go, in the house, to get away to watch a movie or read a book while the husband is occupied or napping. It’s a true multi-function “she room”.

4. I haven’t had to do this, but if needed I would hire help to cook or clean, or just be in the house for a few hours while I escape.

5. I try to spend time with my husband doing something we both can enjoy (like reading a good book) to give attention and alleviate guilt (mine).

6. I give myself grace to not be perfect, but to try again to do a good job and to love well.

A to Z Challenge: Letter W for Washing (Feet)

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You will believe this more as you age, but truth is that something as simple as foot care gets really difficult when you can no longer bend over and get close to your feet. Problem feet should go to a podiatrist, but most elderly people, like my mom and my aunt, can be cared for at home quite easily. I soak their feet for a few minutes in a basin of warm soapy water (and I always hear “oh, that feels so good!”) then gently clean under the nails and clip them. I finish with a foot and lower leg rub with lotion. If you’ve ever had a pedicure, that’s basically what it is, without the polish.

Your person’s feet are pretty important and it is good practice to look at them carefully. The best time is when you are washing them. Look between toes for cracks that indicate fungal infection, which is easily treated. Check heel and ball of each foot for callus buildup and remove some of that dead skin with pumice stone. Toenails that get too long are like having little daggers on the feet. They get caught on pant legs, wear holes in socks and even cause bloody scratches on legs. That’s when I usually get requests for some foot care.

Circulation is often poor in the lower extremities which leaves feet open for pressure sores on the heel and other bony parts. I know what it’s like when I start to get a blister from shoes that rub, or when I stub a toe and rip a nail off. It hurts, but your elderly person may not even feel the pain if they have neuropathy. It is a tragedy when an injury progresses to an infection, or even worse, to gangrene. Good caregiving means catching these problems early (even better, preventing them).

There is a surprisingly spiritual side to taking care of feet, which usually rank low on the list of body parts that get cared for. It’s an act of service to wash and care for another person’s feet, as Jesus did, recorded in the Bible. It’s also kind of hard to let someone do such a common, lowly act for you, which is how Peter felt when Jesus did it for him. Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t help but think of that when I’m helping someone in that way.

Another benefit I’ve noticed, as I sit on the floor with someone’s foot in my lap (I do it that way but you can be a bit more professional if you want). My people talk to me. There’s something that happens with caring touch that makes others feel safe, and open. Maybe it’s just because they know I’m an audience that won’t be jumping up and running away any time soon. Talking is therapy. It is good and requires nothing but that I listen.

Caregiving for other’s feet has made me aware of how important my own feet are to me. I have to take care of them if I want to be mobile. Yours are important to you, so take some time and give them some care, caregiver.

These are actually my feet and I am proud to have all my toenails grown back after losing some of them on last year’s Grand Canyon hike. It takes a long time!

A to Z Challenge: Letter V for Vagus Nerve

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I wrote many of my A to Z posts back in March when coronovirus topics were just ramping up. Since then I have begun to weary of anything virus related, and so for my own comfort I am trashing my previous topic “Virus” and opting instead for something I care more about “Vagus nerve”. How odd, you may think, but I am okay with you thinking that.

This has nothing to do with my post. I had a hard time finding pictures of the vagus nerve so instead you’re seeing this favorite barn picture that I’ve wanted to post for a long time. Like it? (It’s so wonderful to have my own blog where I can do whatever I want. )

Caregiving for people with dementia is one of the hardest and most frustrating roles. It is only going to involve more people as time goes on. Here is your daily dose of statistics:

– 5% of people over 65 have dementia

– 20% of people over 80 have dementia

– 60% of those having dementia have Alzheimer’s

– 20% of those with dementia have Lewy Body Dementia

So you can see that a sizeable number of people are going to be affected both as victims of dementia and as caregivers. It’s pretty important that general knowledge about these conditions increases and that is part of my aim in sharing my caregiving life.

Research is bringing much to light about how dementia develops, its causes, and its treatment. I am amazed in particular at the early signs and symptoms that are often not recognized as such. How much could be avoided if we knew early on what our bodies were trying to tell us.

So, what about the vagus nerve, you are probably wondering? This summary article (click here) gives a good overview of this most important nerve in our bodies. It’s divided into right and left to serve different sides of the body, but spoken of as one. It is the longest nerve in the autonomic nervous system and the major parasympathetic influencer. It regulates heart rate, blood pressure, sweating, digestion, and even the mechanism of speaking. That’s a lot of essential stuff. It is the 10th cranial nerve. It starts up there where all the dementia problems start.

If there were definitive tests for dementia, ones that could detect it early, before it had devastated cognitive areas of the brain, how great would that be? We would be more concerned about chronic constipation, hard to control blood pressure, low heart rates in non athletic persons and other symptoms that get tossed into the “old age” bucket and treated with a pill.

The husband had all these problems years before his cognitive symptoms, the ones that got his attention, began. I remember the many blood pressure medications that he went through, and the multiple times he would react to them in extreme ways. He would have drops in pressure that would leave him dizzy and weak, and spikes that would alarm us. This continues now and is one of the fluctuations I’ve come to expect from LBD.

And I don’t know what his heart rate does to him but I know that having 50 or less beats per minute would make me feel strange. He tires so easily and complains of dizziness on a regular basis.

I’m not into writing about other people’s digestion or bowel habits but don’t we all know what problems can arise in these areas?!! Think honestly. There’s also the difficulty that dementia victims have in swallowing and speaking that results from impairment of the vagus nerve. There are days when my husband knows that it feels hard to swallow and he needs to be extra cautious about what he eats and how fast he eats it. I notice his weak voice and how some days it will be unexplainably stronger, making him sound like his old, normal self again.

Research is showing that up there in the brain where it all gets important is where we find protein deposits, call them plaque, Lewy bodies, or whatever. The vagus nerve is commonly affected and is responsible for many early signs.

What I say to myself about all this, and what I say to readers is that you can change what is happening in your body by lifestyle changes – simple things that take will power and determination but cost little and mean a lot over time. We cannot rely on pharmaceuticals to come up with remedies because it is not in their business interests, and they are businesses. We are people and we must investigate and do what is in our own best interest, whenever we can. We are the guardians of our own bodies. When we choose stress, poor diet, lack of sleep, and a multitude of other poor choices, we get the bad things that come with those choices. It can be sad.

Aren’t you glad I didn’t write about ventilators?