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.

 

Dean's Prayer-Song

One way that I know Dean has worsened dementia, due to his brain injury, is that he now has a harder time with repeating the same song over and over. He did that a lot the first few years after his accident, but now it is one of the "symptoms" that has come back to haunt us.

I say haunt us, because although my voice is not solo quality either, I've at least been able to muster a decent enough sound to sing in choirs. I'm not sure Dean would fit in a choir. Let's just say he's able to make a joyful noise with a congregation. I'm sure his hearing deficit is mostly to blame though, because he does have a rich, low voice that I mostly love. (He did remind me the other day that he sang in a choir once. I'm thinking--high school academy, maybe?)

In any event, the song he seems to be stuck on recently is called "An Evening Prayer". It's a beautiful song. When I was "complaining" about his humming it all the time recently though--after humming my own different songs all day, in a futile effort to get him to change his tune--he told me that it's not just a song to him. It's really his prayer. When he said that, I gave up, and just let him have "his prayer-song".

An Evening Prayer

If I have wounded any soul today,
If I have caused one foot to go astray,
If I have walked in my own willful way,
Dear Lord, forgive!

If I have uttered idle words or vain,
If I have turned aside from want or pain,
Lest I myself shall suffer through the strain,
Dear Lord, forgive!

If I have been perverse or hard, or cold,
If I have longed for shelter in Thy fold,
When Thou hast given me some fort to hold,
Dear Lord, forgive!

Forgive the sins I have confessed to Thee;
Forgive the secret sins I do not see;
O guide me, love me and my keeper be,
Dear Lord, Amen.

 

Ernie's Tribute

Yesterday I attended the funeral of someone many in our church would call a spiritual giant. He was just-turned-98 Ernest Long and he was a favorite for people to visit, because instead of blessing him, you were always the one who felt blessed. This was mentioned repeatedly by those who spoke at his funeral.

Ernie attended my Sabbath School class many times over the past few years. I sometimes made it a point to speak to him privately before class, because he always had a wise thought gem about the lesson that he wanted to make sure got shared with the class.

Pastors found that their prayer for Ernie after a home or hospital visit was followed by a passionate prayer by Ernie for the pastor that often brought a tear to the eye. His name certainly described his prayer life--earnest.

One of the secrets to this fervent prayer life of his may be attributed to a book he shared with me on one of my visits. The author was E.M. Bounds. I found this Christian classic of the nineteenth century a powerful guide to revitalizing one's prayer life and something I really needed at the time.

Ernie's life of devotion to family, his country (as evidenced by his many military honors), and most of all to his faith will be a powerful legacy to all who had the privilege of knowing him. The church yesterday was not packed, but was definitely full. If all of the lives he touched over the past 98 years could have been there, they would have had to rent a sports stadium. May you rest in peace, dear friend, knowing that you were loved and will be sorely missed.

Of all he had, Ernie was most proud of the roses in his yard!

Close Buddies

As I look over the past week, the past few days actually, I've noticed an improvement in the "dream" area. Dean hasn't been living his dreams, like he was there for awhile. It's been nice not to have to worry about him waking up, ready to act out whatever he was dreaming about. I like it when he knows who I am in the morning.

It may have been the last medicine we stopped entirely. It was only a pill we split in half, but it must have made some kind of difference. He also went to Easterday (his adult day program) on both of his scheduled days last week. Much to my enjoyment.

He's still taking quite long naps, like five or six hours, as opposed to eight or nine. And occasionally getting up in the middle of the night and not going back to sleep for several hours. A problem I've had myself recently. Maybe it's the weather.

One thing I have to share that just happened early this morning. Out of the blue, it seemed in his sleep as we both lay in bed (I was lying there awake, trying to go back to sleep myself), Dean said a very brief and heartfelt prayer to God. It was so sweet and I just felt God's presence in the room. Usually his prayers of late have been very long, slurred, and repetitive. But this one was just as clear as a bell.

What a blessing it is to have the Holy Spirit convey our prayers to God. He does all the translating for us, even when we are at a total loss for words. I do believe it will be easier for me to trust Dean to God's care today. I know they are still close buddies.

Dean's new lift recliner (it seems to do more reclining than lifting these days)

A Way of Escape

A few years back one of Dean's annoying behaviors was his taking that little sticker that comes on fruit and putting it on the toaster, microwave, or other place around the kitchen when I wasn't looking. By the time I noticed where it was, it usually required scraping to get the offending sticker off. I repeatedly asked him not to do it, but to no avail.

Then one day it hit me that all I had to do was remove and trash the stickers myself, while I was unloading groceries and putting them away. It was so simple. For years, I have been practicing changing Dean's environment, rather than changing Dean himself. This is one of the first lessons for family members of people with brain injury or dementia, but I had failed to apply it in this simplest of problems.

Lately, another problem has presented itself. Dean loves to feed the dog at the table, dropping her choice bits of the food off his own plate. She has put on a few pounds now and I know it's not good for her teeth, but I just can't convince him not to do it. Then I got smart and lately I've been putting the dog in a bedroom by herself while Dean's eating at the table. That will cut down on most of his "sharing" at least.

Both of these examples illustrate good strategies for resisting temptation of any kind. Removing yourself from the temptation or removing the temptation from you would work in most cases, but we fail to think of it in time. That's where prayer comes in. Ask God how to extricate yourself from the tempting situation. He says He will provide a way of escape. And that's exactly how it's done. Simple stuff and effective. But often we go years without thinking of a way to practice it.

Remember the Landmarks

I just happened to find myself downtown today, looking for a parking space somewhere near the State Office Building, so I could attend a coalition meeting for caregivers there. Having just changed purses before I left the house, I neglected to include in it any coins, so was hard-pressed how I was going to get parked and inside before the meeting started.

Finally, I saw a parking space close enough that offered easy access and room for the big Lincoln I drive (my dad's old car). The meter showed I had about a half hour left, so I planned on finding my meeting place inside and letting someone know that I would have to get a dollar changed and get my meter fed before I got a ticket. I'd just be a little late for the meeting.

Wearing a visitor tag fastened to my coat, those I was meeting with cautioned me to just act like I knew where I was going and I could get in and out of the building easy enough to take care of this business, without having to return and pick up another visitor tag.

No problem. I thought I indeed did know what I was doing and where I was going. But when I took one of the many the elevators back down to the first floor, and hurried outside to feed the meter, I suddenly found myself lost, which was preferable to my car being lost, heaven forbid. Although that thought did occur to me as I proceeded to walk frantically all around the block to the other side of the building, where I hoped my car would be obediently parked.

As I made my way back inside and up to the fifth floor, I consciously remembered landmarks this time, so I could truly know where I was going, instead of taking the wrong door out, when it was time to go home. I'm ashamed to admit that I was concentrating so hard on finding the correct way out later though, that I neglected to return my visitor tag.

Let's just say that at that point I knew where I was going, but didn't know what I was doing.

How easy it was for me to get lost in the small confines of a city block today. I pray I can do better on my trip to our heavenly home. It's obvious that my only chance is with Jesus Christ, my Divine Navigator and G.P.S. And how nice that at this heavenly destination, there won't be any visitor tags to worry about returning.

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!

Another Foot Injury

Last night I managed to get a rather long glass shard stuck in the bottom of my foot. It came out easy enough, bled for a bit, but despite all my first aid cleansing and bandaging, hurts pretty bad every time I take a step today. I have to walk on the heel of my foot, so once again I find myself hobbling around the house--reminiscent of last spring's foot fracture fiasco.

I've tried to use my injury as an excuse to get Dean out of his chair more often today, telling him he should be waiting on me, instead of the other way around. But it's a lost cause. He's staying pretty immobile these days, either in bed or in his recliner, except for the two days he goes to his adult day program or the few times I take him to the library, the bread store, our monthly support group, or our weekly Bible study.

So at least for today, Dean and I are both trying to stay in a reclining position. But he has obviously found more success than I have. He's had more practice.

Practice does seem to lead to more success. Even in our spiritual lives. The more I do to feed my faith, the stronger I feel in my Christian walk. Use it or lose it, as the exercise buffs tell us. Bible study, prayer, and witnessing are exercise for the soul.

Hopefully tomorrow my foot will also enable me to just walk around the house without pain. My whole body does feel better with exercise. And so does my soul.

Dean's Memory

I have a list and a thousand things to remember and do tomorrow to get ready for Women's Retreat this weekend. In addition to remembering my oxygen equipment, the Bi-pap machine, tubing, and portable container, I will have my laptop and notes for conducting a seminar on Sabbath/Saturday about caregiving.

Then there are things to remember for Dean while I'm gone. Even though he won't be totally alone in the house, my nephew is here, I'm sure Dean will feel alone with me gone. I will be making frequent phone calls, so he won't feel so lost. I really am his "memory" these days.

I just pray that God will use me in this seminar. Non-caregivers don't have a clue about what it's like to be a caregiver. I will probably mostly have caregivers come to my "break-out" session, but I'm hoping the information will spread out, even from the few who will attend.

I will report back next week. Keep me in your prayers.

No Blocks Left Behind

The Scrabble game has been left out on my kitchen table for about a week now. And numerous times the board has been filled with words, with any passersby able to offer words and fit them in the crossword puzzle it creates.

It's been easy to spot Dean's words. Most of them don't make sense, or don't fit in correctly to make words from all directions. I've noticed that the more nonsensical words on the board, the harder it is to use all the blocks and finish the game. Isn't this how life is though? The more dysfunctional our life becomes, the harder it is to get to the finish line?

I find it helpful to use the dictionary or ask someone, when I'm playing Scrabble, when I'm not sure about the spelling or meaning of a word. But some people are not comfortable seeking help. It is an admission of failure, of not knowing something.

Let's don't ever be hesitant to ask our Bible and our heavenly Father though. They can give us answers and help us get to the end of the "game", with no "blocks" left behind.

I think you can guess which side of the board Dean filled!

Prayer Works!

The most outstanding part of my day was when I got some news about my brother-in-law's father, who has been sick in hospital ICU this whole last week. He's had a fever of 102-103 for several days, which they could not get lowered, plus couldn't eat, stay awake, and had low blood pressure. And did I mention he's 87-years-old? He was fading fast.

After many tests, they finally determined today that it was West Nile, which is often fatal, especially for the young and old who contract it. So, this afternoon some elders of his church arrived and anointed him with oil and had prayer. By 5:30 his fever broke and it appears he might be on the road to recovery.

I will say that Vern and his wife are probably more healthy than the average 80-year-olds of today. Their healthy, vegetarian lifestyle has kept them active in service and in this case, it may have just kept him alive. But, of course, we aren't downplaying the part prayer had in his healing.

This modern-day miracle is just one reason I have faith to carry on. It gives one the shivers, to think of what God can do for us when we put our trust in Him. God knows what He's doing!

Remembering to Ask

It amazes me what Dean has the power to remember and what he forgets, as he struggles with his dementia memory loss. No matter how conscientious we are about asking a blessing before we eat, for instance, there are times when we all forget to say a blessing before a meal, and this is not considered out of the ordinary. Once in awhile, Dean even forgets.

But there is another time when Dean virtually never forgets to ask a blessing. It is whenever he is about to open the Word of God or study anything of a spiritual nature. He always opens and closes our worship times with prayer to ask the Holy Spirit to guide our minds to a right understanding of the Scriptures. In all our years of marriage, I have seldom seen him forget this very important practice.

As we began our worship just this morning, I took note that it is usually Dean who remembers to ask for the blessing of our spiritual food, the Bread of heaven. His presence is always welcome, but I know even God likes an invitation. Jesus counseled us to form this habit when He said, "If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?" Luke 11:13

There you have it. We have only to ask.

P.S. During our closing prayer this morning, Dean almost forgot MY NAME! I told you it was amazing.

Sweet Dreams

Yesterday afternoon Dean was asking me repeatedly for something sweet to eat. I had nothing in the house for his sweet tooth, but was almost glad I didn't, because the other day we found a bag of Tootsie Roll pops hidden in his closet and he proceeded to finish them off in a couple of days.

I did remember and gave him a "stashed" Hershey candy bar that our daughter gave to me last time I babysat for them though. Was keeping it for one of his emergency "gotta-have-it" meltdowns. It seemed to satisfy him, at least for a couple of hours.

Then Dean pops his head in the door of my room while I was writing my blog in the evening and offers me a big glazed donut. Evidently while he was taking out the garbage, our neighbor came out and gave him a box of six bakery donuts. So I assumed that Dean would have one and so would I.

Later I went out to the kitchen and all but one of the donuts were gone from the box! I was a bit awestruck that he wasn't reeling from a stomachache or about to pass out from so much sugar in his bloodstream, but he seemed to be handling the sugar onslaught quite well, on top of all his medications.

So I just smiled and said the good Lord must have heard his prayer for something sweet to eat. Then Dean gave me a big smile too, as he ambled back to bed for some very sweet dreams, I am sure.

Fitness Goals

I just finished my daily online food diary, and I was alerted to the fact that I have not consumed enough calories for the day. Sounds like something to rejoice in, but it also stated that I was likely not getting enough nutrients and that my body could go into starvation mode by changing my metabolism, which would make it harder to lose weight. Oops. Will have to think of a good nutritious bedtime snack to get me back on track with my fitness goals.

I really hope I'm getting enough nutrients with the SPIRITUAL calories I consume each day. One could really fall short in this area. How easy to skip my breakfast of Bible study, then barely touch anyone with my witnessing, and finally to give a condensed, rehearsed, lifeless prayer as my evening meal. I'm starving myself, when God offers a full buffet of nutritious dishes for me each day. Look at what it cost for us to have God's Word, printed in our language, in all our homes. And how many people God gives me contact with every day to witness to. Finally, the Holy Spirit is available to translate my prayers into eloquent petitions. They only have to come from the heart.

I'm missing out on God's full blessings, and it may prevent me from getting fit...fit for heaven.

Blogpost #265

This is my 265th blogpost, so just one hundred more to go for my goal of a year's worth, per my sister's suggestion. Writing this blog has been a great faith builder for me. And even a stress reducer. It is relaxing to sit back in the evening and meditate on what has happened during the day and how I can use that event to make me think about God and the part He plays in my life.

I hope as you read these posts, it has inspired you to look for God in even the simplest happenings of your day. God uses our environment to communicate so much to us, if we will just pause, listen, and learn.

The Bible plays a part in this too. I would not be able to make the connection of my physical life to my spiritual one were it not for the many Bible stories and lessons I've enjoyed over the years. So, I would encourage both Bible study and meditation/prayer as a means of really incorporating God into your everyday life.

This isn't my Bible, by the way, but someone sure has the right idea!

Storytelling and Prayers

Another sign of Dean's increased dementia is the repetition of his old stories. After his brain injury in 1999, it was several years before we saw the "old stories" drop off and he would be able to give variation to his storytelling, making it more bearable for family members and those who knew him well to listen with more enjoyment. His stories now are taking on the flavor of a tape recording in his brain again that only allows him to tell his stories one way, word for word, and please don't interrupt him!

On the other hand, his prayers still have some freshness and eloquence, and I know he must be putting a lot of effort into his conversations with God. (Some of our family members are getting doubly blessed, by the way; but at least no one gets left out.)

I, on the other hand, must remember not to let my prayers take on that trait of being repeated monologues that God has heard from me countless times before. Let them be fresh and deeply thought out, as if I was talking to a very important friend. I know God is a polite listener, but I don't want to take advantage of His graciousness.

My prayers must be the very best I can offer, just like Dean's always are and have been. I thank God for a very spiritual husband. In that, he will always be the head of our house, the patriarch in our family.

on Father's Day, 2012

How to Thrive

Just inspected our garden, or what's left of it, and it's a sad sight with this summer's drought. I decided about a week ago it wasn't worth it to keep watering, with voluntary water restrictions being called for in our city. We had been getting a fair crop of tomatoes up until then, but I was watering every day.

Likewise, I can't expect my spiritual garden to thrive when I fail to "water" it with prayer and Bible study every day.

This is how things looked in June, lush and green--

 And here are the same plants now, brown and dried up--

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!?

Holding on to Holding Hands

Once again, I went to church alone today. It does seem different without my husband sitting by my side. When we pray, Dean used to reach over to hold my hand and of course, I miss that. That and his booming voice during the hymn singing. There even seems to be less Amens without Dean's fervent ones ringing out. Church just isn't the same without him. Even though for some, it might be less scary, and for me, less stressful, due to his dementia.

Years ago when Dean and I were talking about our engagement while I was in college, I mentioned to him that his proposal was such a surprise to me because, up to that point, he hadn't even held my hand. He reminded me that he most certainly had held hands with me. It was during prayer! Well, who would have thought that would have counted? I stood corrected.

Thirty-six years ago I married this wild cowboy from Idaho. His hands were calloused and so masculine back then. I did remember holding hands the first time we went to church after his accident twelve years ago. When I took his hand during prayer that day, I noticed how soft and smooth it was, and almost cried. It was like holding the hand of a stranger.

The cowboy had changed. But he's still pretty wild. And I'm still glad I married him.

Battle Position

I'm taking a cold lying down today. Seriously, I don't feel like getting off this pillow, so guess I'll stay and do battle in a reclining position. The only thing that gets me to rise is a coughing spell or to blow my nose, and these are becoming more frequent as the day progresses. My colds morph me from a well person, almost instantly to a very ill and frail old lady. I've been on oxygen so much today, I may float away into a cloud by tomorrow.

I can only hope for a short duration cold. But that is the exception, rather than the rule around here. So, guess I'll get back to my battle station and pray myself well. God knows when the caregiver needs care. Being the Sabbath, I think I'll rest on that promise.