Silly Pleasures

I've heard of people with dementia having wandering behaviors, and I just naturally think of them taking a walk through the neighborhood...actually someone else's neighborhood by the time they get through. Police are often called to assist in these haphazard excursions of the elderly.

But I would like to declare another genre of wandering behavior. It might be called telephone wander lust. Every time Dean sees an 800-number lately he feels compelled to call it. I can't tell you how many times I have rescued him from being a scam target.

The nurse at his doctor's office even called me the other day, wondering if we had put in a request for a back brace. I timidly explained that it was the result of one of his calls, answering a TV ad. It's getting downright scary what he might get himself involved in. And I don't know how to reel him in from this silly and potentially harmful practice.

Most of the time he just gets them to mail us information, as if we don't get enough junk mail already. And speaking of mail. I've also had to be careful of his mailing in postcards and ordering "stuff" with any postage paid invitations that he happens to come across. It doesn't matter what it is, if the word "free" is on it, he wants it. I'm trying to be the first one to the mailbox these days, but it isn't always easy.

I'm not sure why these activities are so enjoyable to him. I think he just has a desire to reach out and feel like he's still a normal human being, who can conduct business on his own.

Perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh with him and allow him these pleasures as long as I can. My first instinct is to get rid of the television, toss out our landline phone, and get our mail delivered to a post office box. But then again, I'll probably just wait and see where it all goes.

After all, isn't God just as patient with some of my silly pleasures?

The Phone Call

There was a voice message on my phone I finally saw and listened to yesterday. Dean had already given me the number to call someone back the day before, but I had no idea how much labor went into the process of getting that number.

The recorded message told it all. Dean was so slow in answering the phone that it went to voicemail and recorded their conversation. The poor phone operator was so patient with him. It took him forever to get the pen and paper to write down her number. And she had to repeat it numerous times for him to get it right. He kept reversing digits, reading it back to her wrong, and she had to correct him. It was almost comical--I kept holding back laughter while listening to it. Why she didn't just hang up and try to contact someone else, I'll never know.

It seems to me that God must have just as hard a time getting through to us sometimes. We drag our feet about answering His call, about getting the message, and even mess up getting it right. But He's a patient operator. He wants us to succeed, no matter how sin has disabled us. I hope I can be a better listener from here on out.

Phone Misuse

I've been having issues with Dean's phone use lately. First of all, a presenter at the Alzheimer's meeting that I attend now and then told us about all the scam artists that prey on seniors, many of them via phone calls. It's made me nervous about Dean answering the phone on his own. He's pretty vulnerable to that sort of thing, as we all are. Even though he doesn't have a credit card number to give out, he still knows his social security number, and on good days other personal information that shouldn't normally be given to strangers.

The other issue is when I get personal phone calls. I've caught him listening quietly on the other line--in other words, eavesdropping. He's lonely, so I understand his need to listen, but it's been very hard for me not to be impatient with him about this. I've admitted to listening to some of his calls (see first paragraph), but told him I would try to make sure he knew I was listening. And he should let me know the same. It's not polite to listen on the sly.

But what about our conversations with God? Isn't it wonderful that the Holy Spirit is there to make sure all our prayers are only heard by God Himself? No scam artist can reach us on that privileged prayer line. And no one can eavesdrop without our permission. Our personal prayers are always just that, very personal. I'm assured that one area of my life, my relationship with God, will always remain private.

 

Spinning Tires

As always, with the first, fresh snow on our streets, I joined the many cars today who found themselves spinning their tires and not getting enough traction to make it out into the intersection after stopping. At least not with the first try. One is forced to rock back and forth, going from drive to reverse, turning the front tires different directions, in embarrassing attempts to grab onto something that allows you to move forward with the traffic.

That's kind of how my whole week has felt. The challenges of Dean's medicines, their side effects versus their benefits, getting his lift chair approved, searching the internet, playing phone tag with doctors, nurses, the pharmacist, the medical supply store, and not really getting anywhere. I feel like I just can't get any traction and get myself out of this slippery slide of caregiving.

But thankfully, tonight is the beginning of the Sabbath. A whole day designed to help me get some traction and move on with my life with a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude. When the Sabbath is done, I'll feel a sense of relief once again. Just like it felt when I finally got into the intersection today and started moving toward my destination. And it especially feels good when your destination is heaven.

That BIG Tractor

I almost hate to write about Dean's pills again, but it is the all-consuming thing in my life right now. Instead of being awake all night, now he's sleeping night and day. He slept through breakfast. But it blew me away when he wouldn't wake up when his Meal on Wheels arrived. It was time to try and reach his doctors and nurses on the phone again.

He got up an hour or so later though, ate lunch, and then I had him help sign some Christmas cards, just so he wouldn't go right back to bed. The notes he wrote on them were a bit undecipherable, but I got a laugh, hearing him read one out loud as he was writing it. He was reminding someone about the big tractor that ran over him. "I mean it was a big, Big, BIG tractor," he wrote. Just comical how he said it.

At least I did have two small accomplishments today, since I seemed to be a failure at trying to talk to anyone about his pills. I got some Christmas cards ready to mail, and I gave the dog a bath.

Jesus gives me small spiritual victories too, even while there's these big, Big, BIG ones out there waiting for me to tackle. I'm not in the battle alone, even though it feels like it some days when no one seems to return my calls. I'll just "make do".

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.

The Clueless

Last night at a little after ten o'clock our son-in-law called and asked if we were alright. He was watching the local news on television and it showed the apartment complex at the end of our block with fire trucks and a "haz-mat" team onsite and the entire apartment evacuated outside.

I felt pretty clueless, because we hadn't heard sirens or any kind of alarm, and the action was taking place almost right across the street. How could we be unaware of something that significant almost on our doorstep?

It reminded me of the closeness of Jesus' Second Coming. Will I be totally clueless when that event takes place? Or will I be on my toes and watching for reports, ready to evacuate when needed? Only by reading my Bible and daily talking with God will I be able to hear the sirens on that day. Lord, don't let me be one of the clueless again.

News story about apartment emergency 

What's Your Name Again?

Some of the pleasures in life my husband says he still enjoys are bringing in the mail, locking the door at night, and answering the phone. It's sometimes risky to let him do these things--such as when he applied for his own credit card and started using it; or when he can't remember who called, except that it was important.

I got a real chuckle today when he answered the phone. The caller said, "This is Jennifer from St. Elizabeth's Home Medical. Is Teresa there?" He hollers to me in another room, "Teresa, it's Elizabeth from Home Medical." Jennifer and I both had a hearty laugh out of that one. She has met Dean and understands.

I always get a kick out of how he tries to remember his home health nurses' names. Poor Carla has been Kyla, Kayla, Kay, Carlene, and about every derivative in between.

When our granddaughter Julia was born a couple of years ago, he was having a terrible time remembering her name. So we told him it was the same as his favorite actress, Julia Roberts. The next day he called her Sophia. I forgot Sophia Loren was another one of his favorite actresses.

Thank heaven, there is Someone in this universe, who remembers our name. Isaiah 43:1 says, "...'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name. You are mine.'"

God remembers when we can't.

"Hey, G-pop, this call's for you," says Sophia, er Julia.