Tuesday, September 4, 2007
...only when I wish I had more than I have.
Oh, I still have heartache to some degree, I wrote in my journal in 2004. We all do, don't we? I just don't allow myself to be overwhelmed by heartache. Mostly, by not allowing myself to become exhausted. I find ways to take respite. Something as simple as a walk. Playing with my cats. Writing. Preparing and savoring a tasty meal. Reading a book. Talking to other care-givers at Birchwood. And yes, talking to the dementia patients that I come in contact with daily. In other words, I try to live to the utmost. Now it's 7:30 in the morning. Barely light. A windy day. I glance out the sliding glass doors. At the lake. Frozen. And suddenly, a thump. My cat Buchta just landed atop my computer. I think a little about yesterday. A nice day. Our granddaughter Erikka came to visit. We brought Jeanne home for a few hours. Listened to music. Soft, soothing melodies. Slow dance music from the 50s. When it's dark, I'll turn on the accent lamps, all over the house. Maybe 30 or 40 of 'em. All with amber bulbs. Soft, warm light. Fills the entire house. And yes, it's time for a Haydn string quartet. By a prolific composer, who lived a long and happy life. Therefore, his music is mostly happy. Gentle, too. And yes, there is still time for heartache. That is, only when I wish I had more than I have. --Jim Broede
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4 comments:
I have a blog too. I have a close friend with dementia. I love him and I don't want to deal with what is ahead, but I will.
I came to read your blog because you say a lot of positive things on the message board.
After reading every entry and comment I'm terribly upset. You have made a mess of a wonderful chance to tell about positive experiences you have had. Instead you have used your blog to write hateful things about people from the message board. Yes, they became upset with what you wrote and they wrote less than nice things about you. I can't say I would blame them at all.
You have called one a clown (no I don't think you meant it in a nice way) You have berated several for failed marriages, you were awful to one about a suicide in her family, you call them "guttersnipes" and you taunt them like they are not real people with real feelings.
My hopes of reading wisdom are dashed and I'm left to believe that the positive man I thought existed does not exist. There are far too many negative things written by you intended to "put people in their place" (your words) and almost nothing I would call inspirational. Even when I read something positive you did write I can't feel it is sincere because I have seen a truly dark and nasty side of you.
I'm sick at my stomach and feel very badly for those who have seen the blog. Isn't it tough enough dealing with a terminal illness? Must you treat others like rats in a maze? Don't tell me they picked on you first. That isn't true. It's right here in black and white.
You jabbed and they reacted.
You should start over. This is a blog I feel ashamed to have read.
I fully expect some readers of this blog to be upset – as well they should. Dealing with diseases such as Alzheimer’s and the pitfalls of life can be upsetting. I wouldn’t have it any other way. What do some of you expect? It to be a picnic? The nasty side of life can’t always be avoided. We have to learn to face up to it. To do something constructive about it. To find solutions. Sometimes, pity parties aren’t the answer. Yes, I’ve found positive ways to deal with Alzheimer’s, and with other predicaments in life. And sometimes I’ve been taken to task for it. For being unkind. Unsympathetic. Because I see things going wrong. I see exhausted and depressed care-givers. Many of ‘em on duty 24/7. Doing harm not only to themselves, but to their patients. Many of ‘em are leading very unhappy lives. In broken and failed marriages. With their own mental health problems. Yes, that’s very upsetting. To see this happening. And we all ought to be upset about it. The fact that we have a health care system that tolerates this stuff. Self-abuse of care-givers. And care-giver abuse of their patients. It’s a terrible system. Causing so much harm on so many fronts. And we as a society let it happen. Maybe because we aren’t upset enough. –Jim Broede
Dear Another Reader:
Yes, I did mean it in a nice way when I praised Maebee for daring to be a clown. Just as I praise myself for being Crazy Jim. It's good to be crazy and clownish. Heck, that's one of Maebee's assets. The ability to be a clown. Not everybody can pull it off. And Maebee brags that she comes from a family of professional clowns. That means she probably has clown genes, so to speak. She knows how to have fun, and how to make people laugh. We all need to be a bit clownish, or crazy. To let our hair down. Clowns go into hospitals. Often to cheer up chidren. I remember a clown coming to Birchwood, the nursing home where Jeanne lived. And that clown brought cheer. And smiles. Stimulated the minds of dementia patients. It's too bad, dear "another reader," that you choose to give a negative connotation to the praise heaped on Maebee for being a clown. I'm sure Maebee is a very dignified and respectable and funny clown. I'd love to see her in clown make-up. If somebody sends us a photo of Clown Maebee, I'll see that it's published here. --Jim Broede
Another thing, dear "another reader." you mentioned that you have your own blog. Send us the address to it, and I'll list it under our links. And then people will have an alternative blog to go to. Your blog may be an example of a "good" blog. And mine could be an example of a "bad" blog. Then people could see the contrast between good and bad. --Jim Broede
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