Monday, August 31, 2015

The Sun Rises in the Morning

This is a thank-you note to you, dear readers, because I know you have been praying for us. How do I know this? As bleak and hopeless as my last post seemed, the sun came up yesterday morning. It was a spectacular day. Bright sunshine was accompanied by cool breezes. And I got some sleep. It's amazing how sleep and an encouraging Sunday message can rejuvenate a person.

It was a good day for my husband, too. He laughed at all the pastor's jokes and even participated in the singing. He said he was happy, and he acted like it. He liked the food I cooked. He was pleased to know I wasn't just here for a visit. He held my hand as we talked. He thought I was 15 years younger than I am. (I didn't see any reason to correct that notion.) And he gave me lovesick looks between kisses all day, like a newlywed.

That's the weird thing about this disease. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Or today, either, for that matter. One minute, you want to throw in the towel. The next minute, there's no reason to. And vice versa.

I am grateful to have had this respite, a reminder that things can still be good, even when they're not so good. And I thank you again for your prayer support. Prayer changes things. Don't stop.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Praying for the End of Time

Meat Loaf's song "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" has been keeping me awake at night lately. Tom Cruise did such a great lip synch job of it on Jimmy Fallon's show, and now it just seems to run on and on in my mind like a broken record at 3 a.m. (Here it is, in case you missed it...about minute 5.)

But that isn't actually the subject of this post. Some time ago, one of my "dear readers" posted some terribly discouraging words to me. I won't repeat them here, but you can read all about it in the comments section of this post, His True Self. Those words have also been playing in my mind over and over, ominously. I'm sure the person was simply writing out of personal pain, and I was just going to delete the comment. But then I saw my daughter's reply. It was stellar and so true.

I am writing these posts partly as a diary for me, but also as an encouragement (or at least as information) for others. I am selective about what I share, and I don't post every negative thing that happens. I'm trying to find something positive to say in each situation, so I usually wait until I'm able to see that before posting. That's why you don't always hear from me regularly. I'm waiting.

Lately, my husband obsesses about "his" things even more than he used to, especially when he's frustrated and confused. Naturally, that's happening more and more. When he gets in one of these "moods," this is "his" house. Not the home we've both lived in for almost 33 years, but his house that he's lived in since long before I came into the picture. He angrily asks me what I think I'm doing here. When I explain that it's my house, too, and that I've lived here with him the whole time, he is no longer calmed by the information. This conversation happens every day, multiple times a day.

Today, for the first time, he told me to leave, get out, and "Get the f***" out of his house. I don't care who you are or what you're going through, those are some hard words to hear. I didn't react well. I haven't yet reached the point where I'm teflon and words don't stick or hurt. I'm just doing the best I can, and sometimes that just doesn't seem to be good enough.

If there's anything I'm learning as we walk this rocky path called Alzheimer's, it's that giving up sometimes looks pretty good. An "escape plan" is enticing. If you're walking this road too, I want you to know you're not alone. Don't give up.

And so, "dear reader" from months ago, if you are still reading my blog and not just a troll, I pray that your pain is less and your grief is eased. I hope you will also pray for me as I travel this lonely and heartbreaking road. The rude awakening you mentioned happened long before you wrote to me. In fact, it's been happening every day for a very long time.

For the rest of you, I'm sorry that this hasn't been the usual half-laughing, half-crying stuff you're used to reading from me. But sometimes, I'm just "praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive."