Getting past the grief

I’m still trying to get past the grief of losing my husband, and the physical overcomes me.  After falling 10-12 times in May, I find myself in a live in physical therapy facility with having had a concussion, a fractured humorous in 2 places, and stitches above my eye with a beautiful black eye which runs into my side hair-line.

I shouldn’t complain too much about it, but they won’t let me go home at this time. I’ve been told there are several issues or reasons I can’t go home and they are; there is a memory problem, I can’t be trusted Continue reading “Getting past the grief”

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Comments on “When Calls the Heart”

It’s hard for me to get back to writing again since it’s been so difficult to get through the days and months since my husband’s death early in December of 2017. Thirty years of marriage is not wiped out easily in a few days or even a few months. I still look towards Bill’s chair and almost begin to speak before I see and then remember that he isn’t there and he won’t be back. Even though this still brings tears to my eyes, there has been help along the way.

I have had the help of a Hallmark channel series called “When Calls the Heart” I do not have the Hallmark Channel so I have only seen the first four seasons on Netflix. I have caught part of season five on You Tube. Daniel Lissing did a wonderful job in building and becoming the character Jack Thornton, the Mounty. Erin Krakow did the same wonderful job in building and becoming her character, Elizabeth Thatcher, the school teacher. Other than the very strong chemistry between the two of them, no other description needs to be told. The first four seasons are still on Netflix.

My original thoughts were to write this as a personal message to Daniel Lissing, except I don’t know how to get a hold of him. I wanted to let him know what his part in “When calls the heart” has done for me. I know that I would like to know if my part in something effected or changed an important part of someone’s life.

I watch these four seasons almost continually and have for four months now. The reason for that isn’t because I’m a #heartie, which I’m not, I just wanted to let both of them know that how they played their parts affected me during my time of sorrow. Comments made by Lori Mcloughlin on air let me know that I’m not the only one that has been helped through a time of sorrow.  For now, I will just keep the help I received from them a secret to myself.

Now, about all those comments about Jack dying in season five. If you really think about the story line, it was about the right time for Jack’s role to end. We all rooted for Jack and Elizabeth to get engaged, they did. Then we all rooted for Jack and Elizabeth to get married, and they did. Why would Jack be needed for the rest of the series? They got married, and Elizabeth was widowed with child. Jack Thornton will never be forgotten, they will talk about him and his past heroic deeds, and Elizabeth will certainly talk to their child about him. Dan had other things that he wanted to get involved with and no one should want to hold him back from pursuing those goals. Of course he will be missed for quite a while, but this too will pass.

There are many things that would make the show interesting without having the need for Jack himself to still be in the series. I would love to see what happened to Wyatt Weaver (the genius) he graduated at the age of 13 and at 16 could read through college textbooks “as if they were picture books” commented Elizabeth in astonishment to Abigail. He built a model of a machine that would clear out some of the bad air in the mines and help keep the men safer. Elizabeth told him that she would call her father’s patent lawyer and Jack would take a photo to send to them. What happened with that? I for one would like to see that. What about the dyslexic boy (Beau) who made airplanes from memory? What happened to him as he learned to read, and his father who became amazed at his son as the story revealed who also was unable to read? What about the other kids whose lives Elizabeth changed? I for one would like to see what happened to them.

Who could Elizabeth get to know and fall in love with in time? What about Michael Gleason, the Mounty? He came by twice, once he asked Elizabeth if she wanted him to give Jack a message for her. The other time he came by was when he told Elizabeth that her fiancée talked about her all the time and even showed them her picture. In those brief encounters he revealed that he was under Jack’s command. Suppose he had been under Jack’s command long enough to learn how Jack thought, and some of his leadership skills? There are so many scenarios that could be pursued; Jack would eventually fade into the sunset.

Bill tells all he can

Please note that nothing is in quotations because nothing is an exact quote. Bill told me how he felt, but I needed to prompt him.

 

In September, 2017

I’ve asked Bill what his world is like, because it could help other people who have loved ones with dementia. It may also help others who already have it what they could expect for themselves, and their loved ones.

Now, some may not go through the same steps in the same order, some may have none of the view of their unfortunate condition, but this may help everyone with dementia. His first answer was that it is none of their business; let them find out for themselves.

 

October, 2017

Bill had been declining on a regular basis. The time had come that he wanted to tell what was going on in his own mind. By then, he could mostly talk so that it was understandable but his sentences were still broken. He was always soft spoken and kind. Never would he get angry and push people away, never would he get angry or annoyed with me.

Since he has always had trouble finding the right words to describe how he is feeling, I thought that if I helped him find some words it might help him, he would be able to express himself.  Therefore, I asked him if the world looked normal to him

He said that it didn’t but he just didn’t know what he is supposed to do anymore. Bill also replied that he didn’t feel as if the world was normal, but I don’t know how to…. no words were able to get out after those words.  I then asked him if the world seemed upside down to him. He thought for a few minutes, looked at the floor, then at me and with tears in his eyes, his answer was yes, it kind of did seem upside down.  Once again, I asked him with tears in my eyes if the world made any sense to him at all. It took him a few minutes to answer that question too. …  His answer was that nothing made any sense to him any more.

Those were his answers. These remarks were made sporadically…. I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I asked if he wanted to go for a walk. He would always want to know where we going to walk to. I told him that it was just to the office and back. He would be okay. Today I asked Bill what his world feels like to him. At first, he said that it was none of their business. Then I asked him if his world seemed to be upside down and if it makes him feel lost. He finally answered that it was upside down and he didn’t know what he is supposed to do. I told him that I only could guess how that felt, but I thought that he was brave being in that kind of world and functioning anyway.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thurs Oct 9th

First, he had an endoscopy done of the esophagus, and stomach on Thursday. Two ulcers were found and upon biopsy, the report showed bacterial infection. The prescriptions didn’t get started until a day later which was Friday.

One day he fell and said that his ribs and back hurt him. All I had to do was touch him and he would be vocal with the pain he was in. It wasn’t with words, but it was a loud moan. I told him I was calling the paramedics and he was going to the hospital. He didn’t want to go so I had to explain that he was hurt and had to get some x-rays taken to make sure he was alright. Therefore, I called him despite his objections. They found no broken bones and sent him back home. It was hard to help him get to the bathroom, stand and walk. I helped him the best I could.

This is where everything took a nosedive. He was weak and losing ground mentally.

On Saturday, he fell again and I called the paramedics to help get him up off the floor. I had comforter over him because he was on the bathroom floor and he was cold. They wrapped him up in the comforter and used it as a sling to carry him to the bedroom and lay him on the bed. That worked well. All this time he was losing ground mentally and physically. All of this time, since Thursday, I had to help him get up, walk, and sit down again.

On Sunday, I had to call paramedics again. They took him to the hospital again. The Doctor called the social manager to see if there were any beds available for Bill. The closest one they had was in a town 35 miles away. I said no. They asked me at the hospital what I was going to do. I told them I would take him home with me. The hospital wanted to know how I was going to take care of him and my answer was that I would do the same as I’ve been doing all along to take care of him.

Oct 13th

The next day he was so sick and weak, that he could no longer help me transfer himself from bed to chair. I tried all day to help him. Again, I had to call the paramedics. This time the case manager was in the same hospital that we were in. She looked at him, and looked at me and said sternly that I was not taking him home again. They now had a bed in a local nursing home and they were going to take Bill there. I rode in the ambulance with him to the home, but I couldn’t do anything more. All I could do is follow the lady who does the admitting. I got the paper work done, and then I took a cab home.

The rest is downhill in a nosedive. I do hope that this has helped people with loved ones that have dementia to expect these types of feelings, but you can get through them.

From here and forward, I went to see him every day for at least an hour or two. I spent the night there a couple of times. I laid there hearing him call out in pain and not being able to do anything. I kept begging the nurses to call hospice because DR Sacry could give orders for more morphine and shorter intervals.

Every day I would go in and talk softly to him trying hard not to cry but not doing very well. I told him that I was there. He would always open his eyes and look at me. Sometimes a tear or two would fall from his eyes and I would wipe them away. I told him some things that I remembered that were funny, sometimes I told him memories that only we would know and were very special to us. I always told him that I loved him forever and ever. Then I would ask him if he loved me forever and ever and to blink his eyes if he did. He always blinked for as long as he could do that.

Dec 7th

Then one day shortly after that, I walked in and I could tell that he was gone. I kissed him on the forehead, felt for a pulse and there was none. Then I listened to his heart and there were no sounds. I quietly walked up to the nurses’ station and the nurse was talking to a woman, so I just told the aides to please come down to my husband’s room, there are no sounds of life left in him.

The first thing I recommend to any one is that you find a support group. They will give you more details on what is happening inside the body and mind. The thing that surprised me the most was why the body doesn’t want to eat nor drink anything.

This is the end of

“The face of dementia.”

 

Shimmer

There was a time I was shy and it was in the childhood years. The feelings within me were too much for me to bear alone, but alone I did bear them. I was only five or six years old. It’s truly strange that they were so severe that I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. I wanted to die but I didn’t know how to do that. If I could just disappear, I would have been happy. I never could do that either.

Therefore, I grew up despite my inadequacies. Along the way, there were far too many bumps, I thought. When I grew up and look back at my child hood there were some good times, and there were a few times that I did shine in my own right. Remembering an assignment that we had to do on the spur of the moment, the teacher asked us all how we would act if we found a mouse in our slipper when we got out of bed. The teacher called on each of us in no particular order. She usually called on me last and this time was no different. Each student did nothing but yawned, stretched, put their slippers on, ran and screamed. I am so glad that I was last because I thought the way they were all doing the same thing was stupid.

When finally my turn came around I yawned too, but I also wiped the sleep from my eyes, stretched, and yawned again. I then picked up one slipper put it on and put my foot back on the floor. I then slipped my other foot into the other slipper made a puzzled face wiggled my foot, and then I picked up my slipper, looked in it shook it then screamed and threw it on the floor. My teacher applauded me and said that what I did would happen in a real situation. You had to look to see what it was first. She praised me in front of the class. I did shine inside and out.

This class was on public speaking and I loved it. Another time I shimmered was on an assignment of comedy. We were all to write on a funny way something was invented. I told my dad I was stuck and didn’t know what to write about. My dad said he had an idea. I could write on how the twist was invented. I asked what he meant he said maybe an ice cube had somehow fallen down into a ladies dress. I thought about that and since it was freezing cold while it was melting, she turned one way and then other just trying to get the ice cube out of her dress. It finally fell out but not before the kids started doing this new dance. They started calling it the twist and from now on, the twist has been a big hit.

The other kids in the class loved it and the teacher was howling. Of course, I acted like what she might be doing. All were laughing so much. I walked to my seat and had to pass the teacher. I remember her asking me if I had thought of that myself. I had to admit that my dad came up with the idea, but I wrote the story. She had an A in her book, but she marked it down to a B-. I still gleamed that day, so there was another shimmer in my life. I’m sure there were other times I sparkled too. I just can’t think of them right now.

Somehow as time went on, I grew from a shy child that could hardly speak above a whisper, to a woman who could voice her opinion in a loving way. It was time, circumstances, and effort that brought me out of my shell and blossom into a writer that is able, as are many others, to put down thoughts that are understood and heartfelt

Mighty

The first thing people might say is the mighty Oak tree. It is beautiful, huge, and strong. This is probably the first thing people think of when they hear the word mighty.

Mighty can be a complicated word. For instance, if I said that superman was a mighty man who had great strength beyond that of any other person it would be a reality of TV, someone’s imagination. Isn’t that true for all the youngsters who watch the cartoons and shows that have been on? This is their view of the word “mighty.”

Others may think of Santa Clause as a mighty person that is real. He must be real because he delivers gifts all over the world in one night. I would agree that if any person could do that in just one night he would be a mighty person. He would be mighty even if forgot one house. He would be mighty because he knew all the children, what they wanted, and where they live. Children idolize him and make him into a hero.

Enormous could refer to a statue. Take the Lincoln Memorial, which is huge. No man could lift it by himself, yet people come from miles just to see the Lincoln Memorial and admire it. Perhaps it reminds them of all the things that President Lincoln accomplished during his time of the presidency. It could be that they came to reflect his entire life. From the poor farmer family and rose to the presidency. Those deeds he did in real life may make Abraham Lincoln a hero to some and others may have tried to follow his pattern, his personality, his step into politics. Intellectually he was a mighty man.

I actually shudder to think of the definitions I have read in one dictionary. I can picture the children running out the door screaming all the way home to be comforted by their mother.

When I hear the word mighty I always think of only one personage that I would ever consider huge, gigantic, unmovable, unstoppable, tremendous in power, but is so gentle and lovable that everyone man woman and child looks up to Him, worships Him, hopes in Him, and prays to Him. His title is God, but more than 20 million know him by His own personal name, “Jehovah.”

 

Why I love to write

A lifelong desire of mine has been to write. As a child I wrote, even though it needed something, pizzazz; but as a child, my abilities were very limited as you may see in the writing below:

I do not have any friends, and nobody likes me. Just Collie likes me some of the time. Not all the time. She has a mother and father that love her. she is my friend. All the kids have nice things but I don’t. I wish I could die because my mommy an ddaddy hate me. I want to die but what do I do to do thaht?

As you can see, I had much to learn, and I did that along the road to adulthood. I sure wish I kept them so I could us them for other posts. Fool that I am, I destroyed them.

There were diaries through childhood abuse, tossed out. I guess that they served their purpose. Diaries I also kept through 2 abusive marriages and where are they now? They have all been destroyed, but yet I love to write. I guess that I didn’t see any reason to keep them at the time, but as I write now, I can see the value of them. Some would have made some good stories base.

When I write now, I keep everything no matter how bad it happens to be. When I was in therapy I wrote everyday. Even if there are parts I don’t want exposed, I don’t expos it, but that is nothing new to writers. They have been doing this for years, and it works well.

 

 

A letter to my stepson

Posted on 07/28/2017 by cm writes

My dear Stepson,

From the first day you came to live with us when you were eight years old, and the cutest little boy I had ever seen. You looked like your father, walked like him, talked like him. You followed after him all the time. Your brother had come to live with us at the same time. I’ll have to admit, we had some issues settling in and thinking of us as a family. I’m not sure that either you or your brother ever did.

I know you remember the house we lived in when your dad and I were married. Remembering one instance still brings tears to my eyes, and that is when your brother got up on the roof to help your father repair some shingles. I was standing there when you asked if you could help too. Your father said “No you can’t, just your brother can.” I saw the tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at me with disappointment on your face. Do you remember what I said? I do.

I said, “That’s okay, I need you to help me shop, you are so good at finding coupons for me. I just can’t shop without you. You’re my little shopping buddy.” So off we went. You were, content while we were shopping. You helped me a lot. You and I cooked together, you helped me with dishes, and sometimes you helped with cleaning. You helped me almost all the time.

That was just one instance and it may not even mean much to you. You do not have to be someone’s mother to see your stepson is hurting and try to sooth that big scrape. You do not have to be someone’s mother to feel your step child’s pain, see hurt in their eyes, and be there when he needs you.

I was the one who was there when you were in trouble, and it was me that talked to your teacher when he cursed. You don’t have to be a mother to watch your plays, and go on field trips with your class. Do you remember who cooked for the family, changed the sheets, cleaned the house, tucked you in and kissed you good night? Son, did you hate me back then?

I’ve stuck with your dad through each stage of dementia. With each skill he lost I’ve been here to cry for him. When a thought was lost because he couldn’t get the words out. I cried for him. Every time he would get mad at himself who was there to calm him? I’ve been here all along. You haven’t seen him slip at all. You just come here and think he is fine because he is having a good day. You have not been here for anything he has been through.

Do you realize that if I had not called, you would not even know you father has dementia? I say that because you never call him. I’ve called you. Why? Because I think you should know about your dad even if you don’t think of him often. Yes, you visited us three or four times, but you wouldn’t spend time alone with your father. It was you who was telling me to get him involved to keep his mind active. I didn’t see you trying to do a thing for him.

When I told you he was coming in and out of Alzheimer’s now. You immediately wanted to move us to Phoenix. You must have thought that he was able to be moved without falling further into Alzheimer’s. Your father is 72 he needs to be in a nursing home, but I am still caring for him. I take care of his every need. I dress him, I bathe him, I comb his hair, I shave him, I brush his teeth; and I help him eat when he can’t. He doesn’t like it when he can’t see me, in fact, he panics. This goes on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 12 months a year.

Then just the other day I had to call you again because you don’t call your father. You would not even know that your dad was slipping in and out of Alzheimer’s. When I explained that your father and I talked about moving to Phoenix and neither one of us thought this was a good idea. He was worried about starting over again too.

When I told you about us not wanting to move down there, I knew you thought that I talked him out of it. You don’t really know your dad at all. I could hear it in your voice. I’ve heard that tone before. However, that Sunday your father could hardly talk. His head was on the arm of the chair, and random words ran together with no formed thought. Suddenly he snapped out of it when he was saying bye to his granddaughter. He joked with her, changed in an instant. I rejoice when he snaps out of it. That means I’ll have him with me one more day.

Saying good-bye to your father only and not just once, but several times. You made your feelings very clear when you did that. You’re not very subtle, you are very plain to read. You believe that I have not taken care of your dad very well. Let’s look at that. From the time he was in the nursing home to the day I texted you that he was slipping in and out of Alzheimer’s, how often did you even call to see how he was? I can recall the exact number of times. It is 0. Now when he is slipping away from me so fast that I will soon lose him, you think you can just move us down there and take care of him yourself. No, neither one of us wants to start over. Your dad and I have been married 29 years come the 23rd of July, and I want to have your father with me as long as I can.

I am your step mother and once you love a child you don’t just stop because he is a step child. I have no idea when you started to hate me, perhaps it was the day you screamed at me about the nursing home. Oh, it doesn’t matter. My feelings are; I was thrust into that position and I became a mother to you. Never will I ever claim to be your mother and I never did. I did mother you for 8 years. Think about these things, because lately you have burdened me with your hatred on top of the burden of caring for your father. It is what it is. I just have no more to say. I’m worn out.

Your loving stepmother