Reflections On Memory Loss

One year ago Joan was yet at Rakhma House, a residential home for ten persons dealing with Alzheimer's Disease.The staff surrounded her with love, compassion and genuine friendship. I found that visiting Joan did not work out. The occasion was too disruptive  for fellow residents, the staff, and myself. So went life for about three months until death came to Joan on August 5, 2014.

Some reflection on the experience is now becoming possible for me. I certainly have no answers for anyone else going through the experience. The inevitably of the pain on all sides is becoming more evident to me. My reflections here are one way for making a contribution. 

Go on line and ask for Grand Canyon web cams. What will appear is a picture in real time of the vastness of that space. Being there gives a bit more perspective but not much. The haze gives a  shaded view of cliffs, towering headlands, the open spaces,  and a tiny flow of water away down at the bottom. The Colorado River is mostly a figment of the imagination for the viewer. The distances disorient the mind.

When viewing the Memory Loss scene as a care giving participant one has that same disorientation of the mind. It is too much to comprehend. Months after direct involvement a person still has a certain nausea when reflecting on the experience. At least I do.

I have the greatest respect for those who have intimately taken part as Care Givers and have survived the experience. I think of those who take a raft on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. They have experienced guides who know what to do and when in order to survive to another day. The Alzheimer's Care Giver simply does not have comparable guides. And the trip inevitably leads to death for the person with the disease.

Today there came in the mail a magazine published by Hamline University in St. Paul, Minnesota where Joan attended college. It is noted that she was Phi Beta Kappa with a degree in Education graduating in 1953. She lived for over 80 years extending her skills and warm person to many people. 

This post by Delton is in honor of Joan.   

Access to Nature by Jim Brandenberg

Recovery after Care Giving is a long and tumultuous journey. Unpredictable feelings make consistent plans impossible. Taking the necessary time to rest seems so wrong. The desire to fix life stands in the way of letting nature takes its course and accepting the here now as it is. 

The natural world is remote for so many who are in urban areas - most of us these days. Being out on the prairies or in the forests or on the lakes is a distant dream. Now a creative person has given anyone who needs nature access.

Jim Brandenberg is a world renowned photographer. He lives near Ely, Minnesota in the Forests and by the Lakes. He befriends the wolves and ravens of that area. He calls his home Ravenwood in honor of the smartest of the birds. 

Now he offers an option for the nature starved. The project began just weeks ago. This is a series of 1 minute videos new each day for a year. The location is nature365.tv 

Be patient. You will not be disappointed. 

Like The First Sounds of Springtime

The faint sound of water drops under the snow on a south facing slope is a signal that the sun is a few degrees higher in its daily round. A cloud comes and a chill breeze stops the living sound of the water drops. In the north country the message is clear to all with ears to listen. Warmth comes gradually. It will take a while and freezing cold will interrupt fond dreams of springtime. 

That is the way it is in recovery from the harsh coldness of the death of a beloved one.  

The timing varies person to person. For me it has taken six months to reach the first faint sensations of spring time of the spirit. My whole person was awakened for a short time today. Then came the return of the cold shadow. Was that good feeling just imagined? Once the warmth is experienced there is an inner assurance that the process of recovery is actually happening. 

This part of life seems to have a pattern of its own. Counselors speak of this experience but a person in the midst of it all simply does not believe them until that "water drops under the snow" sensation actually happens. Even then the cool breeze and shadow seems to deny the sense of warmth. My sense is that this is the time to hang on and bring to memory those moments of lovely warmth.

The north woods of Minnesota are a showcase of this dynamic process. Late winter and early spring are times when trees, plants, animals, birds and people crave spring with their whole beings. Thick ice on lakes and streams; deep snow in the forest; smoke from snug homes - all seem to prove that cold is permanent. But we listen and when the dim sounds of melt water comes, we perk up and say, "Maybe it is true that spring will come. Would that not be a wonderful event. Just hang on!"

The 6 month anniversary of the death of spouse Joan

Death has come for Joan as the only answer to Alzheimer's Disease. On August 5, 2014 the quiet step from being to not being happened. Family and I were present. Since then we have all been into dealing with the transition to a life when spouse and mother is no longer here. At first it seemed as if this could not be and then our minds would say that daily life would no longer include the bright presence of Joan.

Just today I learned that the six month point in time, plus or minus, is medically defined as time when the depths of the hard work of grief comes. There is value in knowing this since one begins to question so much about self stability and health now.

It is said that the first year after the death of a dear person is a roller coaster experience. This has been and is true for me. Suddenly tears come. Appetite is dulled as it was during the Care Giving. One wonders if this time of grieving will go on for the rest of personal life. Sleep is disturbed. What is the use of anything.

As I move through coming months I intend to write more reflections on how the Care Giving process goes for me. Perhaps I can speak as one of that host of people who are dealing right now with Care Giving, Grieving, and Survival. We do need to speak up. Only we can put into words that which we have come to know so well.
Delton

Care Giver Recovery Takes More Than Time

The process of recovery from Care Giving in Memory Loss is for the long haul. Let me be personal. I am now in the fourth month of Recovery and new challenges are daily. Every personal account is different. This is my experience.

The shock of separation comes first when it becomes evident that one's spouse will need more care that can be provided in the home. Gradually one deals with the separation experience and the terror that goes with it. Then daily life begins to take over and other thoughts break through. It will take longer than expected for anything that counts as normal happens.

The inevitable feelings of guilt, anger and remorse persist. By talking with family members, a professional counselor, the ALZ Help Line 1-800-272-3900 and other resources the rawness of the helpless state of mind is gradually made more livable.

In due time glimmers of gratitude can be seen. There are bright spots, especially if the Group Home or Care Center where your spouse lives has a compassionate and effective staff. Experiences with other people at church or other groups may be helpful, especially if people do not desire to "fix" the situation or give advice. If they do, know that their intentions are good but they simply do not understand what is going on for you. Make an escape from them.

And all of us get tired and weary so easily. Like right now I am feeling exhausted and will leave off for another time.

Delton

Separation

When a couple married for 61 years are separated by Memory Loss, the Care Giver has times of overwhelming grief as time brings around anniversaries of special annual importance. 

 

The internal time device says, "I recall vividly the events and moments we shared at this time last year and before that as well. Why can't we be doing that again now? What has gone wrong? Explain all you want about the disease but that does not comfort my grief.  I am isolated here in time on an island that is lonely and this will not be changed until consciousness is completed."  

Here is grief that cannot be avoided or comforted. All that is possible is to live through it, if possible, and let the feelings become familiar and perhaps less painful. There is no point in denying the reality of the situation. 

Emotions apparently have to be allowed to happen. Living in the moment means recognizing the feeling for what it is and accepting the sadness. When the moment is so encrusted with over 60 years of repetition it seems likely that life will prevail in its effort to recognize the power of relationship.

I have nine months of observing these times. It is a pilgrimage. Perhaps this is the way to observe such times. Stop and reflect. Look at the present surroundings. Let grief have its way. Don't hurry past the moment. 

So Simple and so Welcome

Words cannot encompass the reality of persons experiencing serious illness or accident as well as immediate care givers, involved families and close friends.

Words are tools of expressing meaning so that contact can be made between  people.  Words are public tools. Words complement body language as well as guttural noises that arise from the primeval brain. When events, conditions and chance place any of us where we are handling deep human emotions we by naturally reach for what nature provides. 

The experience of a glance of the eye or a more expansive eye to eye "look" provides for exchange that is voluminous.  Apparently there is a contact between the vision centers of the brain and the branches of meaning that make up the personalities of  individuals. Vast realms of meaning are exchanged in a fraction of a second.

We humans can well learn from our companions. Dogs in particular exchange meaning with each other and with humans through the glance and the look.  Dogs are said to be able to "read the minds" of their people.  Dogs do not have words so they guide us humans to the basic necessities. With a dog and a human it is the glance of the eye and the physical touch that is profoundly intimate.

From the viewpoint of this care giver, the most welcome expression is to look me in the eye and say, "I'm so sorry".  No words of sympathy or condolence are needed.  Just three words and a look. So simple. So welcome.