Driving is a Hazard to your Health

Driving is a hazard to your health particularly if you have Alzheimer's as my husband has.  He has voluntarily stopped driving. Not gradually but a quick and deliberate decision that the time has come. Hooray for Walt!

A person with Alzheimer's gets confused easily.  They have to focus on one thing at a time or the thought process is compromised.  They end up frustrated and angry. 

Walt is on anti depression medication which is a godsend because it helps to keep the anxiety under control.  He can thereby think a bit more clearly.  He also takes meds believed to slow the progression the the disease

The problem with his not driving is that means that neither one of us can get us from pillar to post!  So, we had to make some serious adjustments to our lives.
Our church has a bus, so we can go to church .  My daughter will come over on Mondays, so we can run errands.  When we need to mail a package, the Post Office will arrange a next day pick up.  I do a great deal of Internet shopping, so Brown does a substantial business delivering to our house.  So much so we are on first name basis.

Walt says he will be able to relinquish the car in a couple of weeks.  Our beloved Camry will be going to a grandchild for further enjoyment!

Wish us luck as we continue this life's journey.  Lord knows, we will probably need all the luck we can get!

My gut tells me

that rough days are ahead for me and my husband.  He is on a downhill slide.  I know it, however, I have no idea what to do to stop it or how to slow down the process.  His Alzheimer's has been a challenge for a long time, but this week, wow!  He has spent the majority of the last three days asleep on the couch.  He has eaten very little and no longer can remember which key opens the car door.  We have endured two temper tantrums and I find myself apologizing for bad behavior that cannot be attributed to me.  He almost smirks when I apologize as if he has been vindicated.  None of the unacceptable behavior is his fault. So I get to be the fall guy.  He apparently does not hear what I say, instead twists my words to suit his paranoid idea of reality.  I am learning to button my lip and let it be.  I want to maintain peace.  For the first time in my life I do not argue a point.  What for? It will be misconstrued.


The time is rapidly approaching when I get to be the bad guy and insist he not drive any longer.  Oooooh boy, that should be fun!


My daughter and her family are planning on moving close by.  I can hardly wait.  I have explained that she will be in for a rough ride since Walt is only going to get worse.  She seems willing to accept the prospect of that responsibility.  We will give her our Camry in exchange for her aid in grocery shopping, etc. I know we can work it out.
Lord above, give us strength.  

My Never Ending Battle with My Weight!

Several years ago my husband and I started Weight Watchers. My neurologist recommended that program pronouncing that they are the best. I managed to lose fifty five pounds and Walt lost fifty. He has kept his svelte figure and I have gained 10 pounds in three years. So folks the battle commences once more, for the umpteenth time.

All my life, since I was a little kid I have had a weight problem. When I was little all the way through my teen years my mother would watch my weight like a hawk. She lamented that I was too big. I would lose only to gain it back. The most I lost was when I was sixteen. I lost sixty pounds. Of course, my role model, my mother, stood 5'6" and never weighed more than 135 pounds. I, on the other hand, was 5'8" and 140 pounds at twelve!

It became a continuous losing battle. There was no way I would ever be as small as my mother. I would always want that, the child aiming to please her role model. I know I was a disappointment, not only to myself but my Mother. It took me until she passed away to get over this particular feeling of helplessness. Why oh why was she so insistent that I be what she hoped me to be? No wonder my self esteem turned into self pity and remained that way for a long time. Come to think of it, she always expected way too much of me. I wonder why. She was self assured and convinced she was right. My dad always thought she was slightly nuts. (That is another tale to be told).

I am not trying to please my mom anymore but I still have to lose the weight I have gained. I will feel better and look better. The formidable influence of my teen years is a ghost who, I must admit, still whispers in my ear what she feels is best for me. As luck would have it, this time she is correct in her admonishments.

The trouble with dyslexia.......

I started life in a half- ass way... Jaundice, half blind, left handed and dyslexic. I was born with yellow jaundice. My mother had kidney problems. The other three were discovered before I was five.

I learned to read when I was four and hence came the half blind and dyslexia. The half blind was discovered by my dad. Remember when taxis used to have mini billboards attached to the trunk of their cars? If you don't remember then you are too young and this story is definitely anecdotal. Anyhoo, my dad and I were in the car one nice day and since I had learned to read he was always ready to test my new skill. He asked what the sign on the back of the taxi said. Are you kidding, I could barely see the sign much less what was written on it! Off to the eye doctor who pronounced that I could not see, probably had been unable to see since birth and coke bottle bottoms were in order.

The diagnosis of dyslexia came when I started school and was expected to learn how to write at least my name. Mirror writing, anyone? plus I was left handed, much to my teacher's chagrin.

We shall see about this left handed stuff, Rachael much be switched at once! " Over my dead body," pronounce my mother. Words flew, my mother won. However, the mirror writing had to stop.

I remember going to my pediatrician , Dr. Sam (I have no clue as to what is last name was) who patiently explained why I could not write from right to left and had to switch it around so the rest of the world could read my attempt at prose (maybe poetry, though I doubt it).

All my life I have struggled with dyslexia and thank the Lord for the brains to be able to interpret most every written word. However, I have always had difficulty explaining myself verbally. I was never one to answer questions in a classroom. When asked if I had in questions about this or that I could and can never find a question to formulate. It has been rough. How I managed to get through 16 years of schooling is beyond me. Not to brag too loudly, intelligence must factor in.

I have managed. Some folks have not been so lucky. There are those that are so dyslexic that they cannot read and have to rely on pictures when doing such mundane tasks as grocery shopping.

Last week I finally heard a decent explanation as to what dyslexia is. The explanation came from Henry, The Fonz, Winkler. He said that dyslexics are very intelligent and can always think of what they want to say, however, they have no way of getting the thought out so that others can understand.

Whew! at last, an explanation that makes sense! Now this jaundiced, blind as a bat, left handed dyslexic can breath a bit easier. Please don't ask me to explain myself!

Color of hair... indication of ..... what?

I was always a blonde, until I turned grey, and then almost white and then red and then whiter and now back to red. Phew! Every significant phase in my life has followed my hair color. Surprisingly, leastwise to me, the folks that mean the most to me have liked as a redhead except for one who told me with great emphasis: " I have experience all of your hair colors, it matters not one whit to me what color your hair is as long as you and I are as one ." Romantic, yes, true, hardly. He gave up that ideal early on. I was too stupid or wishful to believe it.

Never mind, I have digressed before even getting started. I like my hair red. I think a lot of my being satisfied and content with red hair has to do with my need to gain my mother's approval, even thirty odd years after her death. She was a red head, born with it and then out of the bottle when her hair greyed. . My mom was uh, interesting, bright and conflicted.

I like my hair red because there are very few of us around.... young or old. I have always marched to the beat of a different drummer. I am a left handed, dyslexic, too bright, too tall, blind as a bat, and after several attempts, really like myself. I want to stand out from the crowd. How boring to be "ordinary" or plain.

I have a penchant for hats and wear them well on my red head. I can get away with this idiosyncrasy because, after all, I have to guard my locks from fading in the noonday sun. Like I go out in the noonday sun, hah, don't be silly. I live in Florida where no one in their right mind partakes for noonday sun bathing!

I shall keep my red hair for as long as I like... it suits my personality and my wonderful husband loves it.

Florida, ah, warmth again!

It has been a long, long winter here in the Sunshine State! I imagine that folks from other places have the same complaint.

I have been busier than a one armed paper hanger building a web store. I really would like to get off of Ebay and just have a non brick and mortar store. Of course, it may take me until the day I die to get recognized but, I am going to have fun trying!

I am truly enjoying my pain free days. This Cymbalta is truly a miracle, leastwise for me. Now, if someone kind and caring would invent a fantastic new drug to stop, dead in its tracks, my husband's and other sufferers Alzheimer's! He is slowly fading away... I suppose his medication is contributing to the pace, at least I hope so. May it be ever so slow, don't wish for him to fall into the abyss that so many others have fallen into. Every week he has always loaded a week's worth of pills into a pill box that is labeled for every day of the week. Here, recently, that has become my job because he gets confused as to which day and what pill goes where. Simple tasks are no longer simple for him. When he talks on the phone he cannot remember what was said as soon as he hangs up. I have warned family and friends that if they have something important to say, please ask to speak to me. Oh my!

Meanwhile, life goes on and time passes, it is warm again in Florida and most everything is right with the world.

I dread what might be ...

My ever attentive husband has Alzheimer's disease and the monster is getting ever worse. Little by little he is becoming more and more confused.

All of last year we talked about going to Pennsylvania in the fall of 2010 for my 50th high school reunion. I was really looking forward to seeing my classmates. Well, looks as if my plans have changed. All of this year my husband has been making plans for doing some traveling to see his sons and grand kids. This journey will take him all of 30 plus days to complete. Going to Pennsylvania is no longer in the thought processes. He has totally forgotten the many conversations we had all of last year.

Remind him, you might suggest. Are you out of your mind! Dealing with certain aspects of this person has become quite complicated. On one level he is the adult male that I adore. However, the other levels include a petulant child. A side of him that I rather not have to deal with. This child is very good at sulking and throwing what would be termed as a temper tantrum if were not so sad to witness. No, I shall keep my mouth shut and bear witness to the many convoluted levels of the man with Alzheimer's.