The Book

I was indeed flattered when I took my mom to her geriatric psychologist and she offered me a job, told me to write a book, and said she wanted to call me to pick my brain. For a brief moment, I imagined myself winning the Nobel Prize for Dementia and basked in the light of someone thinking I had something valuable to share, even if it is a shrink fascinated by my firsthand knowledge of the world of Alzheimer's.

I told her that I already had a job watching the folks and that if and when I get back into the job market it sure won't be as a caregiver. She assured me that that's not what she had in mind, but reminded me that the vastly unexplored world of dementia needed brave explorers and creative geniuses to make a difference, especially when it comes to the travesty of elder abuse.

So I think I will begin by joining the Walk to Find a Cure for Alzheimer's on May 7th at Doheny Beach and I will also get serious about starting my book, the one titled, "Hi, Mom, I'm Your Daughter, Joyce".
I may have to change my name to protect the less than innocent and very innocent. Perhaps if it's published under a nom de plume I will be more forthright. Then when I'm asked to go on Oprah and tell all, oh wait, she's retiring...oh well, whomever takes her place, I will be interviewed as a shadowy figure behind a curtain with a deep growly disguised electronic voice.

Here is my Prologue:

Any random afternoon---

"Mom, let me help you go to the bathroom."
"Who?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you just said you wanted to go to the bathroom."
"Who did?"
"You did."
"Why?"
"I guess because you needed to go to the bathroom."
"The bathroom?"
"Yes."
"What's the bathroom?"
"I don't know, Mom, just let me help you."
"Help me? I don't even know who you are!"
"I'm your daughter, Joyce, and I'd like to take you to the bathroom."
"Why?"
"Nevermind."
"What?"
"Nevermind.".........
....one minute passes....
"Where's the bathroom?"
and we start the dance again.

Here's part of chapter whatever:

It had been a warm and sunny peaceful Sabbath afternoon. I'd come home from church and our caregiver, Jackie, said that Mom was napping; she was very exhausted, as though the mental energy of trying to figure out her world had taxed all her strength and she'd gone to bed.

Good, I thought. I like coming home from 3 hours of church and being able to read a little and take a nap myself. Especially on Fast Sunday. I said hi to Dad who asked me where I'd been. At church, I told him.
"Church?" he inquired. "On Friday?"
Uh oh. That wasn't a good sign. Dad's supposed to be the 96-year old who still has it altogether.
"Dad, it's Sunday?"
"Really? I guess I missed a few days" he replies somewhat perplexed.
"Well, you're reading the Sunday paper," I responded.
"Hmmmm" he said softly.
Jackie looked at me and said, "That explains it. He's been calling me Anna all day."
Anna is our Friday caregiver who helps for four hours while I run away and get lost in the world of the living.
Jackie left. Dad closed his eyes to sleep in his tan recliner. I went upstairs to read on my bed and feel the warmth of the sun through my bedroom windows.

An hour later Mom wakes up. Coming through the baby monitor I hear, "Yoo hoo! Anyone here?" I rush downstairs.
Mom is indeed a cheerful happy soul suddenly, refreshed from a few hours of sleeping and suggests we all go out to eat hamburgers. I really don't like to eat out on Sundays but this is the third day in a row that she's wanted to go out to eat and she's so smiley and happy I don't want to break her good mood. Dad, always ready for a ride and a change of scenery is all for it. I help Dad with his walker to the car and strap him in the back seat. I walk Mom around to the other side of the car behind the driver's side and strap her in. It's 5 o'clock and sunny with a beautiful clear blue California sky to look at.
"Where do you want to go, Dad?" I ask.
"How 'bout Carl's Jr."
"Okay. Let's go to the one by Doheny Beach and then eat at the harbor.
Off we go, everyone's happy. I'm relaxed and calculating what I can eat since I'm always trying to diet and rarely succeeding.
As we head down Golden Lantern Drive and see the glorious Pacific Ocean in the distance I mention to Dad and Mom to look at the view. Isn't it beautiful I exclaim.
Suddenly, Mom starts getting worried. "I'm getting sick!" she moans. "I'm getting sick!"
Dad ignores her. I look over my shoulder back at her and try to reassure her.
"Mom, we're going out for hamburgers and we're going to eat them by the beach."
I think all she sees is some scary random person in dark sunglasses staring back at her.
"Tony, Tony, we need to get out. They're going to try and drown us in the ocean! Let me out! Let me out!"
Think Meg Ryan at the beginning of the movie, "French Kiss."
I hear a click and the words on my dashboard read LEFT DOOR OPEN.
I quickly pull over, put the car in park, jump out, close Mom's door tightly, jump back in the car and lock all the doors with one switch.
I've got to remember to lock all the doors whenever I'm driving I think to myself and probably say outloud.

But it just gets worse from here.

Dun dun dun.....

Comments or suggestions anyone?

Around the Whirlwind in Eighty Days

It's been 80+/- days since I last made an entry to The Mercy Finder. I think I've been too overwhelmed with trying to find mercy, extend mercy, and receive mercy to write. But today, inspired by an article I read in The New Yorker, "Middlemarch and Me," I have committed to at least try to catch up on the last 80 days in a very speedy way--with photos. (However, something's wrong w/ my computer and everything about Blogger is currently goofed up)

Rebecca Mead, the author of the article, stated that the well-known maxim, "It is never too late to be what you might have been," although long-attributed to George Elliot (aka Mary Ann Evans), apparently has no historical bearing with reference to her. Nowhere in her letters or writings can it be documented that she said this. In fact, it seems to be more in keeping with her writings and lifestyle that, if anything, she believed that just being who you are is enough. Unheralded, unspectacular, unnoticed. If you should think of doing something grand, and don't do it, so be it.  In her journal entry she wrote, "The difficulty is, to decide how far resolution should set in the direction of activity rather than in the acceptance of a more negative state." Perhaps in my comings and goings, I would much prefer to have this second quote painted up, lacquered, and hanging on my kitchen wall rather than the first.

However, so as not to acknowledge my merciless/merciful state without deep gratitude,  I submit the following photos of the last 74+ days.

I flew to TX for the funeral of Krista Ralston Oakes 

Lynn Ralston Molohosky and me

Christmas Eve

Mom with Eli, very excited for the next day

   

Dad deciding which of Sawyer's Hot Wheels he wants

Sawyer thinking of Santa coming

Christmas Day

Santa made one little boy very happy



Jim, Sawyer, and Chelsea



Carrie, Eli's girlfriend



Mickey Blue Eyes



What do you get your Dad who needs nothing?  Books!


The Day After Christmas

Celebrating with the Munns

Second cousins, Samantha and Sawyer

 Joyful and triumphant



Guess it should be over 'cuz the fat lady's singing!

My "eh hem" birthday



Nancy Metcalf joined me for a grand day

Gallachers came for a few days in January



An early birthday celebration with Dad

Dad's 96th Birthday

 

The party was so wild that no matter what I do this will only post sideways



Disneyland with the Archibalds

So happy to be out of Minnesota

 

Nannie Joy with her munchkins





It's a world of laughter



My Annie Jane



My Jake Jordan



My Sawyer Daniel




My Juliette Joyce

Chelsea Married Jim Flanagan

The Aftermath

Jordan's 33rd Birthday

Saying Goodby to Part of My Heart 

Jim Got Baptized

A very wonderful day

Okay, that's it. I'm done.

 

Fruitcake

I am working on submitting my will to God's. I am working on being obedient. I am trying to do what's right and be good and be unselfish and give service. Whenever the Christmas season rolls around I feel like I need to make penance of some sort for an ancient act of revenge and retribution. And what is the dirty little deed I carried out so long ago?

When I was in Kindergarten my best friend told me the "truth" about Santa Claus. I couldn't believe her. I couldn't forgive her. That memory is still so very clear and burned into my mind. And I knew at that point I would get her back. I didn't know how or when but I knew, someday, some way, I would return the favor.

And I did. The next year, after a little conversation which my mother initiated and to which I was sworn great secrecy, I promptly told my friend, standing there at the corner of Fairmount and Ashbury Avenues in El Cerrito, CA, about how babies were made.

And I have felt moderately guilty ever since that I was such a cruel force in collapsing her world, as she knew it, just as she had destroyed mine the year before. I suspect almost 55 years later she never gives this a single thought. But I am still tortured by it.

So I try to be good and give to the poor and feed the hungry and clothe the naked and shelter the homeless.

And then I take my grandson to the mall to see Santa Claus. Just to reassure myself that, really, I was right all along, and my friend was, well, just plain nuts!

I'm feeling better, once again.

Celebrations

Two celebrations with two times the fun for a boy turning two and a Thanksgiving feast that followed the next day. Welcome to my photo gallery of two days of merriment.

Happy Birthday, Sawyer!!! We're so glad that you're TWO!

Lucky boy to wrap up nice and warm in a towel from Aunt Britty

After starting the party at Sawyer's house, we moved on to Nannie Joy's for dinner and more presents that night.

Jimmy Storey, Holly & Masa arrived for the dinner party and the Thanksgiving weekend, along with the birthday boy, Nannie Joy, Chelsea & Jim F.

Then Nannie Joy brought out the big guns!

Sawyer played with cousin, Jake's, Geo Trax last summer. We knew it'd be a hit!

Ooooooh!

A quick few hours sleep, then on to Thanksgiving Day. Hooray!

The Munns have arrived and we're just about ready

This didn't start out to be the little kids table but turned out that way

Jay and his granddaughter, Samantha

The food was delicious if I do say so myself

The best place for Ian to be after so much food--running around the yard.

Morgan, Melanie, and Maddie Munns

My sister, Cheryl, and me

Holly chillaxin'

Jim, the Pied Piper

Second cousins Samantha and Sawyer, and no, I did not give her the Barq's

20 for dinner and everyone left the table fat and sassy

Jeremy, uncle and nephew extraordinaire, including photographer of some of these pictures

Nothing brings such joy to us as Jay's piano playing

"Upside Down Boy" just before the Hokey Pokey

Dad and Mom enjoying Jay's after dinner music

Aren't teenagers just truly amazing?

The only thing that would have made the day more perfect is if we had just a few more people, like Eli, Carrie, Brittany, Jordan, Annie, Jake & Juliette! Maybe next year?