Author: edebock

Alzheimer’s is robbing me of my mother

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I originally started this blog to chronicle our travels when we moved to Japan to teach English for a year. For the past several years, our family has also been on a journey of a very different kind as we’ve watched my mother gradually spiral downward and disappear into the depths of Alzheimer’s disease but I haven’t felt at liberty to blog about it until now. Until recently, my father, who is a very private person and also Mom’s primary caregiver, has been one of my most faithful readers. Out of respect for him, I didn’t share our journey publicly but now that his very old computer has died and he’s discontinued his internet service, I feel free to write about it.

I still remember the summer visit several years ago when I first had an inkling that something was wrong. I mentioned one of Mom’s grandchildren and she had no idea who I was talking about. Her question, “Who’s Jessica?” was for me one of those life changing moments when my entire world seemed to shift on its axis. I lay awake at night wondering what the future would hold and experiencing for the first time a deep sense of anxiety that has become more and more familiar to me.

Over the ensuing years, the mother that I grew up with has disappeared and parent has gradually become child. It has been a fairly slow decline. Many times, Mom would seem to slip very noticeably and then plateau for a time giving us a chance to get used to the changes before more drastic ones surfaced. Unfortunately, Dad seemed to be in denial for the longest time making it impossible for us to discuss the situation with him or to be of much help. It’s only in the last year that Mom’s condition has been clearly identified as Alzheimer’s disease and that we’ve been able to talk about it openly. The situation is made worse by the fact that my sister, my younger brother and I live in Alberta while Mom and Dad are here in Vancouver. Only our older brother, mentally handicapped and himself living in care, and our oldest son Matthew are here at the coast. We really can’t saddle Matthew, in his second year of a law career, renovating a house and parenting two very young children with the responsibility of watching out for his elderly grandparents. He and Robin visit as often as they can and do their best to keep us informed of any changes or problems that they notice.

The blessing in all of this, if there is such a thing, is the fact that Mom’s decline didn’t begin until she was over 80. Dad retired at 59 and they spent the next two decades following their dreams and travelling the world. They visited over 60 countries spending more than a year in Europe and 9 months in Australia. (I come by my gypsy blood honestly!) They took their last big trip 8 years ago when they flew to the Dominican Republic to celebrate their 55th wedding anniversary.

For the past few years, it’s been a chore to get Mom to leave their apartment. Now, at 89 years old, she is incontinent, legally blind and confined to a wheelchair. Though these infirmities are fairly recent developments, in Mom’s mind she’s suffered from them for most of her life and she’s constantly coming up with fanciful explanations that are in no way grounded in reality. Last night she told us that people are trying to poison her with peanut butter which has always been a favourite of hers! Sometimes all we can do is laugh. It’s either that or cry. She’s clearly in the sixth of the seven clinical stages of Alzheimer’s and needs constant care and supervision.

After 63 years of marriage, Dad refuses to allow them to be separated and insists on caring for her himself. He’s clearly wearing out and we don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep this up but he’s of sound mind and has the right to live life the way he chooses. There are those who suggest that we, as a family, should try to force him to put Mom into care but we are firm believers in the fifth commandment and we know of no other way to honour our parents than to allow them to live out their final years the way they want to while being as supportive as we can given our own circumstances.

This, of course, means more frequent visits. This is our third trip to Vancouver this year and each of my siblings has also been here. When we’re here, we thoroughly clean the apartment, a job that Dad has a hard time keeping up with these days, and try to provide opportunities for him to get out and have a break. This week, he even went on a forest adventure with great grandson, Sam!

Having Matt, Robin, Sam and little Nate here in Vancouver is indeed a blessing at this time in our lives. Visits to Vancouver would be much more difficult if we didn’t have them to stay with some of the time and, of course, grandchildren provide such wonderful stress relief!

Mom with her youngest great grandchild, Nate, in March 2011

Focus, Confidence, Hi-Ya!

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Wikipedia defines writer’s block as a condition in which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The writer may be greatly distracted and feel he or she may have something that needs to be done beforehand, it goes on to explain.

That would be exactly why I haven’t blogged much lately! Not only have I been busy with all the usual Christmas preparations… shopping, wrapping, baking, and decorating… but I took on a bit too much at the church finding myself responsible for three events in a ten day period! Individually, none of them was too much to handle but three coming in such a short period of time at an already busy time of year created a lot of stress. When I flipped the calendar page over to December, I suddenly found myself waking up at odd hours and lying in bed worrying about details that still needed to be taken care of. More than once, I was at the kitchen table writing lists at 3:30 in the morning! As is so often the case, things looked much better in the light of day. Others stepped in to help and everything went without a hitch. Now I’m free to relax and enjoy the Christmas season.

One of the best things about Christmas is time with family. That started this week with a pre Christmas trip to Calgary to visit our daughter, Melaina, her husband, Aaron, and our grandchildren, Drew and Jami-Lee. On our way home today, we stopped in Red Deer for lunch with Richard’s sister, Sue, and some of her family. As her five-year-old grandson, Kale, told us about his tae kwon do lessons and pantomimed breaking a board, he repeated the mantra Focus, Confidence, Hi-Ya!

I couldn’t help thinking that that’s how I should approach life’s challenges! I’d add one crucial element, however. So, in the coming year, instead of lying awake and worrying when life gets stressful I plan to face my challenges with

Focus, Prayer, Confidence and a mighty Hi-Ya!

Thanks, Kale!

Bethlehem Walk

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We went to Bethlehem today without ever leaving Alberta! West Edmonton Christian Assembly, just off Anthony Henday Drive on the western outskirts of the city, is hosting its second annual Bethlehem Walk and it was well worth the four hours of driving to get there and back. 81 000 square feet of indoor space have been converted into the streets and shops of ancient Bethlehem. More than 450 volunteers dressed in period costumes add authenticity to the scene.

We started with the shepherds in the fields outside Bethlehem where angels high above our heads sang out the good news of the Messiah’s birth. Inside the gates, the streets of Bethlehem were crowded just as they were on that first Christmas some 2000 years ago. Wandering from shop to shop, we enjoyed the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of the busy town. We sampled dates, honey, buns and tea; smelled frankincense, soap and spices; watched the potter kneading clay and saw wheat being ground into flour and olives being pressed for oil.

   

I lingered longest in the stable behind the Bethlehem Inn. There, amidst the pens of goats, sheep, donkeys and oxen… yes, live goats, sheep, donkeys and oxen… we found Mary, Joseph and the wee baby Jesus. When we arrived, he was sound asleep in the manger. I was especially moved by the little golden haired girl who stood in wonder and repeatedly asked, “Is he real?” Yes, sweetheart, He is real! I thought as I remembered the line from my favourite Christmas song…

Mighty God and fragile baby, here a lowly manger holds.
And it’s still the greatest story ever told.

This, I thought, is what Christmas is really all about and I stayed until the baby woke.

Moving on, we passed the blacksmith making nails and, finally, the cross maker chiselling and forming crosses to be used by the oppressive Roman authorities to execute criminals on; not by choice, he hastened to tell us, but because the Romans had conscripted him to do so. Locating the blacksmith and the cross maker immediately following the stable was clearly the result of careful planning and was very effective. After all, what is Christmas without Easter? the manger without the cross?

 

All I want for Christmas

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Six months ago I couldn’t do a push up; not even one. In fact, in spite of all my years of weight lifting, I’d never been able to do one; not even a so-called ladies or knee push up which, in my opinion, isn’t really a push up at all. When the tendonitis healed and my frozen shoulders thawed, I decided it was time to learn. I found a great little instructional video on YouTube and got to work.

Beginning with wall push ups, I worked intermittently over the summer months, gradually moving down from doing push ups against the wall to the kitchen counter to the bathroom counter to the three step landing in our entrance. By fall, I was using the coffee table. That’s when I decided what I wanted for Christmas… ten perfect push ups… real ones, on the floor! Today I struggled through seven fearing that I was going to collapse face first on the floor at any moment. It wasn’t pretty!

Can I eke out three more before Christmas? I’m really not sure but I’m going to give it my best shot.

From drab to dramatic

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It’s amazing the difference a change of colour can make. After visiting Matt and Robin last month while they were in the midst of renovating their new house then stopping at Melaina’s on the way home and seeing how a coat of paint had taken her small bathroom from drab to dramatic, I came home all fired up to do a bit of redecorating of my own.

I began by tackling the feature wall in our bedroom. Down came the 1980’s wallpaper and on went several coats of paint. Choosing the colour took awhile and involved consultations with several friends. I wanted a colour somewhere between brown and burgundy but who knew that there would be so many shades to choose from. We looked at colours with fanciful names like Avent Garde and Arabian Nights but settled on Burnt Brick. It isn’t easy to imagine what a finished project will look like based on a 2 inch colour chip but I’m delighted with the outcome.

Before

After

Did you notice that we also raised the headboard on the bed?

So, if a new colour makes that much difference, is there something here that I should change? So far, I’ve chosen not to cover my ‘silver highlights’ but what do you think?

   

A changing view!

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Exactly one week after posting my latest rant about the unfinished house across the street a crew pulled in and started working on the exterior! I feel sorry for the men working out in the cold but finally, after sitting untouched for three years, the house going to be finished! I feel as if I’ve been given a gift. We’ll finally see something more attractive than that ugly monstrosity every time we look out our front windows. I’ve always loved the style of the house and I think the grey siding is giving it a very classic look.

I don’t think my rant had anything to do with the sudden change even though I did send a link to the new town administrator. Unlike her predecessor, she replied almost immediately telling me that the property owner had been given until December 20 to finish the exterior or the town would hire someone to do it and charge the work to him.

Rumours abound in small towns and one never knows for sure what to believe but we’ve been told that work on the house came to a standstill because the property owner was dealing with legal and financial issues that started when one of the subcontractors failed to complete his portion of the job correctly and then had a lien put on the house when he wasn’t paid in full. Apparently those issues have finally been resolved and work can now continue.

As a future neighbour, I tried to be patient and only complained to the town a couple of times. Like the rest of our neighbours, we would probably have been much more sympathetic if either the property owner or the town had communicated with us and given us some idea what was going on and when we might expect the situation to be resolved. I was startled recently when an acquaintance told us that that was none of our business! I’m trying to be generous and assume that that’s because he’s never lived in town and doesn’t understand why there are things like unsightly premises bylaws.

What do you think? What should a good neighbour reasonably expect to put up with?

Channelling my inner W.O.

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When I wrote about the things I like about winter, I mentioned that we auditioned for parts in W.O. Mitchell’s play, The Black Bonspiel of Wullie MacCrimmon, last week. I didn’t get the part I wanted but I wasn’t overly surprised or as disappointed as I thought I’d be.

Flagstaff Players has always had trouble recruiting men. We usually pick scripts with fewer male roles than female but this time we really went out on a limb. Black Bonspiel has nine male roles and only one female one! Could we do it, we wondered. Amazingly, men came out of the woodwork and we had no problem filling all nine roles! Competition for the one female role was fierce, however, so I knew that my chances weren’t great.

One of the reasons that I’m not too disappointed is the fact that Richard scored the lead role! He’s playing Wullie MacCrimmon himself! I’m so delighted for him that my disappointment pales in comparison. I’ve had lots of lead roles but this will be his first.

The second reason that I’m not feeling crushed is that I think the directors did an excellent job of casting the female role. It went to one of my former students, a delightful young woman who was an active participant in the high school drama club back in the days when Melaina and Nathan were involved. Following high school, she went on to become a teacher and it was she who was hired to take my position when I retired! We acted together in A Christmas Carol two years ago and I know that she’ll do a wonderful job.

I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed though. I love to act and I really wanted that role. The friend who phoned to give us the news knew that and tried to soften the blow by telling me that they were looking at writing in some bit parts for some of the women who auditioned and didn’t get roles and that I would definitely have one of those. That’s not what I wanted but what could I do? I could wallow in self pity, I could accept the situation gracefully or I could channel my inner W.O.

Not only do I love to act; I love to write. What if I put the two together and wrote my own part? That’s the idea that hit me late last night when I couldn’t sleep. The part of Lucy Tregellis was an obvious one. She’s really Mitchell’s creation, not my own. She actually appears in the script but only in disparaging remarks made by the other female character. What if we brought her to life and put her onstage? I knew it could be done without changing W.O.’s story line and I knew I could do it. I messaged the directors and they loved the idea. It will only be a bit part but it will be mine, all mine, the first role I’ve ever written for myself!

First snow

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Winter’s first snow fell this morning; tiny flakes sifting down and gathering on the streets and between the grass. I’m not a fan of winter. Here in Alberta, it’s long and bone chilling cold with temperatures that drop well below -30 Celsius (-22 Fahrenheit). This year’s snow came late. It’s often here before Halloween and it doesn’t melt away again until sometime in April. Roads are often icy and travel can be treacherous. I almost did a full circle in an intersection this afternoon and that’s with good winter tires on!

It’s easy to dwell on the negatives but this year, as winter approached, I began thinking about the things that I like about winter. It’s not a very long list but here are a few.

Winter sunrises

I’m sure that there are beautiful sunrises at other times of the year but that’s another thing about Alberta, long hours of daylight in the summer and equally long hours of darkness in the winter. I’m never up early enough to see the sun come up in the summer but, as difficult as it is to crawl out of bed in the dark of winter, I’m often rewarded with a glorious sunrise.

Cross country skiing

Winter can be pretty depressing but when the weather allows, getting outdoors and getting active is invigorating. There’s nothing better than the swish of my skis under a crystal blue sky with snow sparkling all around me to lift my spirits.

Drama

Drama is my other favourite winter activity. This winter’s play will be The Black Bonspiel of Wullie MacCrimmon, a story about curling, the quintessential Canadian winter sport. More than a few curling fanatics would consider selling their souls to the devil for a chance to compete in the national championship known as the Brier. Set in small town Alberta in the 1930s, W.O. Mitchell’s hilarious story tells what happens when main character, Wullie MacCrimmon, has the opportunity to do just that! Auditions were held on Wednesday evening and now I wait to find out whether or not I get the role I really want.

Boots

Last but not least, one of the best things about winter is boots. I’m not sure why but I really like wearing boots! My absolute favourites are my old well-worn brown leather ankle boots. I loved them the moment I first saw them and was thrilled when Richard gave them to me for Christmas many years ago. They’ve been reheeled and resoled and fit like a glove. Then there’s my brand new pair of tall black fashion boots. The slouched look and the strap detail around the heel give them an edgy look that I really like. Of course, when the temperature plunges neither of these pairs would keep my feet from freezing for long so I also have my trusty Cougars. With warm insulated lining and deeply treaded rubber soles, they’ll easily take me through the long snowy winter that lies ahead.

      

 

The haunted house… two years later

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It’s time for my yearly rant about the monstrosity across the street. I figure that since I wrote about it last Halloween as well as the one before, I might as well make it an annual tradition, at least until something is done about it. Imagine looking out your front window at this year after year!

We used to joke about the flock of pigeons that lived in the house and suggest that someone should put up a sign at the entrance to town advertising it as the world’s largest birdhouse. That was before I read an article in the Edmonton Journal last April about a New Brunswick woman who is permanently blind after contracting cryptococcal meningitis, a potentially fatal disease that is carried by pigeon feces. When I realized that the birds posed such a significant health hazard, I wrote a letter to the town and included a link to the article. There was no response until a month later after we talked to a town councillor at senior golf one morning. The very next day, I received an email from the town administrator apologizing for failing to respond and assuring me that the town was “trying to work through the legal issues to have a successful conclusion to this long-standing situation”. There was no mention of the pigeons and they continued to inhabit the house until sometime after we left for Saipan in June. Had they still been there when we returned in August, we would have lodged a complaint with Alberta Health. I’m not sure what took place during our absence. We still see the occasional pigeon perched atop the roof but they’re not flying in and out anymore and we no longer hear the house cooing when we step outside our door.

Late last month, we met the mayor while we were out for a walk. She told us that the property owner had been given until the end of September to begin work on the exterior of the house (siding, garage doors and landscaping) or the town would have it done and charge him for it. Since he’d ignored every deadline he’d been given in the past, we didn’t hold out much hope but there was a flurry of activity for 2 or 3 days at the very end of the month. Most of the time, he appeared to be pressure washing the inside of the house. Getting rid of pigeon poop, no doubt! As far as the exterior is concerned, he replaced one small piece of board that was badly deteriorated and applied house wrap to a small corner of the lower storey. It looks like it was hung by a group of kindergarten kids and I’m sure the only reason that it wasn’t torn off by the first strong wind that came along is the fact that that part of the house is so well sheltered.

Apparently, he must feel that that should be enough to satisfy the town as he hasn’t been back to do anything else! Sadly, given what we’ve seen so far, he might be right.

We’re at our wits end wondering what to do. Obviously complaining to the town does no good. At this point, I’d just like to see the eyesore torn down but how do we accomplish that?

What influences your sense of self-worth?

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This post has been brewing for awhile. In fact, I started it once, discarded it and now I’m starting it again. Richard and I are doing a weekly Bible study with two other couples using Charles F. Stanley’s How to Reach Your Full Potential for God. One of last week’s questions resulted in some serious self examination.

What influences your sense of self-worth?

The study guide offered the following list of possible responses:

  • ___  entertainment
  • ___  relationships
  • ___  education
  • ___  hobbies
  • ___  goals
  • ___  possessions
  • ___  employment
  • ___  appearance
  • ___  service
  • ___  God
  • ___  other: ______________

I don’t have a problem with low self-esteem. In fact, I feel pretty darn good about myself. Many factors on this list contribute to that: healthy, affirming relationships; hobbies like writing and drama; and of course, my relationship with God, to name just a few.

At the bottom of the list, my “other” is my children. I am so proud of the fine young adults that they’ve become and it irks me when people say “You’re so lucky that your kids turned out so well”. I have news for you, folks! It isn’t luck! Parenting well is hard work. I know that there are no guarantees and even some of the best parents have troubled kids but I believe that I (we) did a great job and yes, knowing that definitely adds to my feelings of self-worth.

So why is it that something as superficial as appearance influences my sense of self-worth so strongly? The next question in the study guide asked “In what areas of life are you most likely to compare yourself to others?” and I had to admit to myself that for me it was appearance. I know that this is true of women in general but why? This question has led to a lot of soul searching on my part.

Donloree onstage

One of my favourite bloggers is figure competitor, Donloree Hoffman of Bikini or Bust. As I’ve followed her blog for the past year, I’ve come to the conclusion that I, too, am a figure competitor. Oh, I’ll never stand onstage in a spray tan and a bespangled bikini (too many stretch marks and scars from multiple abdominal surgeries make that an impossibility) but I compete with other women all the time. I’ve come to the realization that it’s not my hair, my make-up or my clothes that I look at when I’m comparing myself to others; it’s my body, my physique. I don’t look at a healthy, fit looking woman and think ‘I wish I looked like her’. In fact, I can truly appreciate and admire a well toned body. No, it’s the overweight, out of shape women that make me feel like a winner! How pathetic is that? I’m absolutely certain that this attitude doesn’t please my God, the one who created each one of us and who loves us just the way we are.

Twiggy

But why do I feel this way? I think there are many reasons. Our culture, of course, teaches young girls and women to value physical beauty above even good health. I grew up in the age of Twiggy, the emaciated looking fashion model of the 1960s. She became an instant sensation and suddenly, skinny was beautiful. In those days, my mom was overweight. She wasn’t obese but she definitely carried a few more pounds than she should have. “Just wait until you’ve had babies,” she’d tell me. “You’ll look like this too.” No, never, I vowed to myself! My father, who exercised regularly, often gave her a hard time about her weight. Is it any wonder that I grew up thinking that thin equalled beautiful? Then came marriage to a porn addict. Obviously I had to compete physically, or at least that’s what I told myself. Those are all things of the distant past now, but clearly they had a profound impact and helped shape who I am today.

So, what does all this soul searching and self-evaluation mean? Am I going to stop striving toward a better physical body? Absolutely not! There are many very good reasons to continue eating clean and exercising regularly. I believe that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). God has blessed me with a healthy body and I plan to do the best I can to keep it that way. I hope to live for another 30 years or more and I want them to be good years filled with action and adventure. Staying physically fit has so many benefits. No, that’s not something I’m about to change. I feel good and I like what I see in the mirror!  What I do hope to change is my attitude. From now on, I want to look at other women, even those who are obese and those who haven’t taken care of themselves, with compassion. I want to see the beauty that God sees in them and I don’t want my sense of self-worth to depend on them any longer.

So, now that I’ve bared my soul, let me ask what influences your sense of self-worth?