Our Most Holy Brain

Two days ago after Dean's bath aide and nurse left the house, he questioned his memory by asking me if that was his nurse Carol who just left. I gently corrected him with Carla's name. He has had Carla come to the house every week for over a year now and still has trouble remembering her name before, during, and after her visits.

Imagine my surprise and shock when Dean left the doctor's office yesterday by shaking hands and saying "Good-bye, Cori" to the young man who was shadowing his doctor. They had just been introduced once at the beginning of our session. Was it a "white-coat" syndrome? Or just a fluke? I had to smile.

With Dean's array of symptoms lately, mostly involving sleep, appetite, and memory, he's proving to be quite the medical challenge for his doctors. As a matter of fact, the psychiatrist yesterday said he wants to research the medicines out there for what would be best for Dean.

The doctor did ask if it was possible to manage his diet better. I almost laughed. My full-time occupation is managing his diet. We mostly try to have regular, healthy meals, but Dean is just hungry all the time. I mean literally all the time. And with his memory getting worse, he asks for another meal, almost as soon as he's up from the table. I have been welcoming the end of the month when our cupboards are almost bare. At least then I can honestly say, there's nothing to eat.

And then there's his sleep habits lately. I would have thought that going to his day program yesterday and staying awake all day would have meant a good night's sleep and getting back to a healthy day and night pattern of sleep. But here he is sleeping the day away again. Barely staying awake long enough to eat his meals. One day I tried three times when his Meal on Wheels arrived to get him up to eat at noon. If he's maintaining his weight, we can thank his new sleep habits. Except he's missing out on exercise through inactivity too, so muscle weakness is also a concern.

I'm not sure what the doctors can do, if anything, to fix these medical problems for Dean. Our bodies, as we age, are deteriorating. There's no stopping the natural process of life and death.

But Dean illustrates to me just how important our brain is to our overall health. If our bodies are considered the temple of God, then surely the brain must be the Most Holy Place in that temple. We communicate to God through our thoughts, our brains. He resides there as surely as His glory shone above the ark of the covenant. Today and each day, I must be careful not to defile it.

Sleep at Last

Dean finally got a full night's sleep last night. But it wouldn't have happened had I not called the home health agency and had the on-call nurse come to check him out yesterday. Hated to do it on the weekend, but in addition to sleeplessness, he has been having a lot of mental confusion.

The nurse checked his vitals and after getting the doctor paged, we were instructed to reinstate the medicine that we were trying to get him off of. I know. None of it makes sense, but we will see him in his office this Friday, so perhaps we'll solve this dilemma by then. I'm just happy that he is finally getting some much needed sleep.

The nurse did have some good affirmation for me though. She said when she talked to our regular nurse on the phone before coming over, she was told that she'd better stop for a visit, because I wouldn't have called unless there was a good reason. It was nice to hear that I'm taken seriously when it comes to Dean's care.

I try to stay on top of things, but haven't always been successful in the past. That's why I know that God is really the one to get credit for anything good that comes from my decisions. God is the One we should all take seriously. When He says come, we should go.

Pen Passion

Dean was at the height of his "caregiven" glory today when his bath aide, nurse, and chore provider all happened to have him on their schedules for the same time. Four pretty women in the room all at once, he said. Smart of him to include his wife in the count.

Most of the home health people know by now that Dean has a passion for ink pens. Every time they get him to sign something, which is at the end of each visit, he makes an effort to beg, borrow, or steal their pen. He has a thousand persuasion strategies, and he uses them regularly and systematically.

First, he tries to inadvertently lay their pen on top of his own ample stack after the signing, hoping they won't notice. Then he appeals to their pride by admiring their pen's qualities, but quickly shifts over to a pity plea by mentioning how much he needs it in his collection. Next, he lays a guilt trip on them by referring to the other nurses and doctors who have been generous in parting with their pens. Keep in mind there has been laughter, a strategy in itself, between each of his ploys, so by now many a nurse just throws in the towel and either sacrifices her own pen or promises to bring him one the next time she visits.

Isn't this how persistent I should be in wanting the Holy Spirit in my life? How many strategies should I be using in order to win the victories and peace that only the Spirit can offer? I believe my prayer tonight will not be over until I have gotten either the prize or the promise from God, the Comforter, my Holy Caregiver. Where's the passion?

One of his many boxes of pens..look carefully--one might be yours!

The Pill Organizer

Having just retrieved Dean's new pill organizer that his nurse filled earlier in the week, and replaced it with the empty one I am reminded that today, Sunday, is truly the start of a new week. When you look at most calenders I also find that Sunday does not come at the end, but at the beginning. It's even referred to as the first day of the week in dictionaries.

When I read the Ten Commandments, it's like having a pill organizer. In the very center of it, we are told with great detail to remember something that involves a weekly reminder. The Sabbath reminds us of our Creator. The world was created in six days, and we are invited to share a time of rest with the Creator of the universe. We are able to rest on that day, because it was the day God blessed.

Daniel 7:25 speaks about a world power that will change times and laws. Don't underestimate the power of the master Deceiver. I believe he has been at work on this for a very long time, with much success.

God's Zip Code

The other day when the nurse came over to dress Dean's wounds from his little fall in the driveway, as a part of her examination she asked him what day it was. Then what his zip code was (I assume to check for a possible head injury when he fell).

He quickly gave a zip code that I vaguely remember as the one we had in Idaho, and told him so. So he gave one that I was sure was when we lived in Iowa. I barely remembered either one of them myself and was surprised that he did. The nurse gave him another chance and he slyly looked over at some mail sitting on a table by his chair.

The nurse and I exchanged glances, smiled, and she made some notes. I thought he should have at least gotten credit for thinking to check the envelope for the zip code. He may not always know the answer, but he still knows the right place to find it.

Often I need answers for problems in my life. I pray that I will first remember where I've been, and then look in the right place for the answer. There's a letter from God in several places in my house. Bibles are everywhere. I have no excuse for not knowing God's "zip code".

Fix My Jeans, Please!

I was peacefully on my laptop yesterday when I heard Dean come in the front door from his adult day program. I knew the van that transports him was due anytime. As usual, he was scolding our little, yappy dog at the door, but I heard him say the words "Leave me alone, Minnie, I'm hurting."

I rushed out to the living room to see what had happened and saw him with a paper towel rapidly getting soaked with blood from his finger. Of course, he had fallen somewhere outside between the van and the house--just the short length of our driveway.

Dean's attention wasn't on his hand though. He pointed to his knee, and I was afraid of what injury might lie there too. But he informed me that his concern was for his torn jeans! There was indeed a couple-inch rip in the knee of his Levis. Peering through the hole I could see some blood from a scrape on his knee perhaps, but it didn't seem to be bleeding profusely like his finger.

He wasn't going to allow me access to these wounds, I could tell, so I went to the phone and called his home health agency and they sent his nurse over. Fortunately, it was his regular nurse and she set about getting his two injuries cleaned and bandaged. She had him "all better" within an hour, sitting comfortably in his recliner (fully dressed, without his jeans on, if you can picture that).

Shouldn't we all insist on waiting for the "Real Nurse" to come on the scene when we have an accident in our life? God is on call 24 hours, just like our home health agency. The trial or problem may still be plaguing you, but you and those around you will feel "all better" about the situation after a prayer call and His always rapid response.

Was surprised he didn't ask the nurse to mend his jeans too!

"A Word in Due Season"

Not every day you go into a doctor's office, get a diagnosis, have treatment options explained, and head straight for surgery and then home. Unless you are seeing an ophthalmologist (eye doctor) and have laser surgery recommended.

It turns out I indeed do have angle closure glaucoma, not the most common kind of glaucoma, but one that has the potential for real vision loss, if untreated. I had no symptoms, nothing to indicate any risk for it, except that I just turned 60. Those over 60 are six times as likely to have glaucoma, I discovered. But it can occur at any age. Regular eye screenings where they dilate your eyes are often the only way to detect glaucoma, so I'm glad after four years without seeing an eye doctor, I was encouraged to go to a free screening at the local aging agency last spring.

I had actually decided not to go to the free screening that day a few months ago, but Dean's home health nurse was here and she told me to go on and go. So I did, and that set the ball rolling.

God was looking out for me, and He did it through one person, a nurse, who did nothing but say the appropriate word "go".

"And a word spoken in due season, how good it is!" Proverbs 15:23 Help me speak those kind of words, Lord. The words that send others to you, the Great Physician.

Pool Meltdown

Well, we had our second visit to the Madonna Rehabilitation Hospital pool and it almost turned out to be our last. When Dean came out of the dressing room with his suit on, needing help with his pool shoes that they provide, he refused to let me help him put on the brace they also provide to help support his drop foot. I tried to explain that they wouldn't let him in the water without it. But he wasn't listening, just demanding that we go home and not stay to exercise.

The staff recognized our difficulty and his therapist came over and literally "sweet-talked" him into trying the boot on again (he had worn it the last time) and told him to let them know if it hurt too much. She explained the reason why he needed to have it on, and was very calm and courteous the whole time, letting him make the final choice. Not a bit demanding. Which is just the way he has to be handled. I could tell right away that this lady has worked with the brain injured. She was an expert!

Praise the Lord, he relented and let them help put the brace on, along with the shoes. He went from a lion to a lamb in seconds, which is just how it usually happens with him here at home. But today, I really don't think I would have won him over to wear the brace without the intervention. I wish I had a Madonna nurse with me every time we go in public. I might be braver to take him places.

I do have the Lord's assistance though. He's only a prayer away and I know He's listening for my distress signals, even before I get the prayer in the air. Thank you, God, for giving me words to say to prevent the meltdowns. Both mine and Dean's.

Here's the lady who prevented the meltdown.

Ain't she a saint!?

Choking

The first question Dean's nurse had for him today was "Have you been chewing your food?" Then I remembered last week that Dean almost choked on a piece of meat from his "Meals on Wheels" while she was here. We both heard him say that his meat was too tough to cut, but we kept on with our conversation till he stood up suddenly with a scared expression on his face and we knew instantly that he was choking.

Even though Carla, the nurse, is a good foot shorter than my tall husband, I'm sure she'd have stood on a chair to give him the Heimlich any second if she had to. But he instinctively pounded his own chest and up came a gigantic piece of meat. It was a miracle it came up. And we were all shaken and thankful that the emergency was averted.

One of the first things that Dean said after it was over was that now he knows how I feel when I have breathing episodes and we've had to call paramedics. I said yes, that's exactly how it feels. It's pretty traumatic when you can't get air.

God breathed into us the breath of life. Our breath can't be underrated. Each one is a gift of God. I feel sorry for those individuals who feel they have to supplement their air with tobacco smoke. They are poisoning the air that God gave them to breathe. I know it's a hard addiction to break, but it's also worth every effort. Recognizing the true source of help in quitting should be easy though. If God gave us our breath in the first place, He must have an interest in restoring it to us. As a woman on oxygen myself and seeing my dad die of lung cancer and emphysema, I encourage everyone to keep trying as many times as it takes to quit the habit.

In His Arms

The nurse came today to evaluate Dean after his fall this weekend. She usually comes on Thursday, but I knew she'd want to see him before then, since he has complained of pain in his ribs again. I think it is getting better each day though, so the damage must be minimal. I was glad I wouldn't have to take him to see a doctor. Am not feeling up to much myself with this cold still raging in me.

I was just looking at my old calenders  to see how many colds I have had the past few years. I've been marking them down. The amazing thing was that I never had a cold that interfered with taking care of my parents the year I was caregiving for them. But after both of the funerals were over, I caught three bad colds almost on top of each other.

Now it could possibly be explained that I was operating on adrenalin and it might have boosted my immune system. But I actually did get one or two mild colds that year during times that my care wasn't needed as badly. Once when my sister was here to help.

No, I think it was God putting a protective hand on me. Giving me the strength and health I would need to do intense work that I still can't believe I was able physically to perform. God was very close to our whole family when we needed it. I picture Him carrying us in His arms and leaving only one set of footprints in the sand, as a famous poem depicts.

How close we are when we are in someone's arms. I know He's still walking beside me now and the future holds no fear. He's going to see us through it.

Me and my oxygen in North Carolina in 2011--lots of footprints here!

Pushing Pills

I have come to see how really freeing it has been to have home health nurses visit our house every week. Our regular nurse, who usually fills Dean's pill organizer, wasn't scheduled to come last week and I forgot to ask the other nurse till it was too late. So Sunday morning I was up bright and early, sorting and filling the pill box. It felt odd doing it myself again. I had mixed feelings.

I had some guilt feelings about having the nurse do it in the first place a few months ago. It's not much work really. Plus at first I was worried she would make mistakes. It was hard to turn over the responsibility to someone else. I had so much ownership in it.

I slowly enjoyed not having to "push" the pills into that little box though. And then the feeling suddenly hit me this week that maybe I deserved to be free of the task. After all, I had done it religiously for over ten years. It's about time to turn it over to someone who will get paid for it.

The bath aides who help him shower three times a week have also been a blessing. They not only relieve my mind about him falling in the shower, but I don't have to argue with him about whether to shampoo. They keep track of it in their reports. How many years I have struggled with these issues on my own. It's nice to have reinforcements there to lighten the load even a little.

All I can say is that God knew when the time was right for the nurses to come on the scene. It wouldn't have happened if Dean hadn't fractured his foot last summer. Of all his falls over the years, this was the first one resulting in a fracture. Also, our case manager was temporarily changed, and she was experienced enough to know that we needed help around here, so she arranged for the home health agency to offer care.

All was ripe for this intervention and I have no doubt that God, our primary Case Manager, was overlooking the whole operation. And will continue to do so...

Busy Weeks

Each week since my foot injury seems to be busier than the one before. If I never have to go to another doctor's appointment or see another home health nurse, it will not be too soon. This week I'm not only caregiving for my husband, who cracked his ribs last week when he fell in the house, but now the dog is added to my list of needy family members, since I just brought her home from the vet's today after her spaying surgery.

Don't get me wrong. I'm just reporting, not complaining. I thrive on staying busy, and it is especially sweet that I'm staying busy for others. There are many theories on how to stay young, but to me the most powerful one is to keep your youth by caring for others.

Well, maybe it won't keep you young, but it will keep you alive. I'm counting on God to keep me around as long as I can be of use to somebody. There's really no reason to hang around this old earth any longer than that. Right? Heaven's too good to postpone.

Caregivers Have Birthdays too!

My birthday should trump all other topic choices for me tonight. But it really was a rather uneventful day, even with a birthday to boast of. Dean's nurse who checks on him once a week brought me cupcakes for my birthday, which was a nice beginning. I had a cake mix I could have whipped up, but this saved me from the task. She is so thoughtful that way. She's the one who has been able to sweet-talk Dean into getting his fingernails trimmed, so she'll always have a special place in my heart too. We're still working on the mustache issue. So far we're just keeping it at bay. In other words it hasn't reached his chin...yet.

My daughter then called and Jenna, her little one, sang Happy Birthday to me all the way through by herself. Pretty good for her. She usually has mom sing along. My sister and brother called three-way and they sang it too. I embarrassed my nephew by mentioning my birthday on the way home from picking him up from work. He was so upset at himself for forgetting that I felt just as special and valued after his profuse apologies. I'll get my payback from him with all the labor we have planned for around the house this weekend.

All this and over fifty birthday wishes from my Facebook friends made it a nice day. I didn't do much around the house. Only did dishes once and one load of laundry. And I had carrots for supper. Dean doesn't like them, so they were for me!

Thank you, Jesus, for one more year of life. My husband asked today what he could give me for my birthday. I told him he gives it to me every day. A purpose for living. But then again, so does our God.

Unexpected Gift

Today I received an unexpected gift from a home health nurse. She will be coming here weekly to assess my husband's medical needs. But bless her heart she noticed that his fingernails were getting pretty long and she talked him into letting her cut them for him. I've been trying to get this accomplished for six months now, so you can imagine my joy when the task was done. I told her as she left that she had just given me my best Christmas gift.

A tiny bit of normalcy has returned to our household with this one, seemingly trivial, event. I have come to treasure all the tiny details in my life though. It's like having a zoom lens on a camera. Caregiving can do that to you. Or being a parent. Or anything that causes you to focus on someone besides yourself.

Joy comes through the simplest of gifts, viewed with God's" zoom lens." Look for them. They are all around us. I'll see one of mine every time my husband takes my hand.