Year-End Mirth

We have been busy, busy, busy the past four days or so. On Friday, we had a fun afternoon of bowling. Seventeen friends and family members showed up at Garden Lanes. Eric scored the best, rolling two games in the 190s! Julia and Muffin bowled for the first time and did fairly well with the aid of bumpers. I have cute pictures of the young ones that I will post as soon as my computer returns from the fix-it shop. (I'm still using Adam's laptop and I'm not sure how to download pictures onto it!) On Saturday, which was Jacob's actual birthday, we were able to use Jim's company suite at Joe Louis Arena to watch the Great Lakes Invitational College Hockey Tournament. U of M ended up winning the competition. The temperature on Saturday reached a record 62 degrees, and, had it not been raining the whole day, it would have been pretty awesome. It is now cold again, and I am ready for some more snow.

Bev was released from the hospital Friday night, no closer than she was last week to discovering why her stomach hurt so badly that one day. She had test after test, including a stress test, and passed all of them. The electricity went out at the assisted living place yesterday, and Jim got a call that the residents were being evacuated. Bev ended up hanging out at Debbie's house for a few hours until power was restored.

Jim, Adam, and Jacob attended the Plymouth Whalers hockey game this afternoon. Richie is taking Jacob to a movie tomorrow, then we have the New Year's Eve party on Wednesday. I guess now is also the time to think about making some New Year's resolutions for 2009. I'll let you know if I come up with anything interesting.

Merry Christmas

Christmas Day is winding down here, but the partying will go on for another week. We had a great time last night and today, with lots of food, fun, and frolic with the extended family. We made several trips to visit Bev at the hospital in between our travels to and fro. She is set to be released in the morning, and tomorrow cannot come soon enough for her. Santa brought a new X-Box360 for Jacob and the Rockband game for Adam. We have had a blast being rock stars - we all fight over who gets to be the singer in the band.

Our busy week continues tomorrow with a bowling outing to celebrate Jacob's birthday. Saturday is his actual birthday, then there will be a huge New Year's Eve party at Wayne's house on Wednesday. The fun just goes on and on. By the way, Santa did not bring me a new computer, but I do intend to scan the after-Christmas ads in hopes of finding some sort of hot deal. Eventually, Adam will tire of me hogging his laptop.

Well, I am off to sing with the band! Merry Christmas, everyone!

Bah Humbug!

I am posting this using Adam's laptop, as my computer seems to have developed a virus of some sort. I ran a complete system scan with Norton, and discovered a high-level risk problem that "requires manual removal." But when I follow the directions to manually remove the virus, it indicates that it is "not safe to remove manually." Huh? Norton's next recommended course of action is to "review risk details on Norton's Website." Which brings me back to the "requires manual removal" page. Santa, help me! Please bring me a new computer for Christmas!

ER Adventure

Last evening, beginning around 8:30 p.m., Bev began to phone us every 10 minutes or so. For over an hour. She claimed that something was horribly wrong with her because she had excruciating pains in her stomach. She told us that earlier in the day she had developed a terrible cold – yes, this cold suddenly appeared out of nowhere – and she could not stop coughing. We spoke several times to the night nurse at the assisted living place, and she finally recommended that we send Bev to the hospital to be checked out. I think she was tired of listening to her whining.

Now, before you think I am being callous, let me remind you that Bev has cried wolf over and over again in the past. I cannot even remember how many times Jim rushed to her house only to realize that she was just overreacting and wanting attention. Jim’s sister had been to visit Bev Friday afternoon, and insisted that she looked and acted completely normal when she was there. (And I use the term “normal” very loosely!) I suspected that perhaps she was simply lonely last night, so at first I suggested that Jim or Debbie go sit with her for a while to see if that helped her to feel better. To make a long story short, neither Jim nor his sister had any desire to go assist their mother. In fact, they were bickering over the phone about who would have to tend to the ailing woman. Finally, Jim agreed, very begrudgingly, to do the hospital run with Bev. As soon as the two got settled in at the emergency room, Bev’s stomach felt instantly better. Jim stayed with her until the wee hours of the morning – well past his 10:00 p.m. bedtime.

The doctors at the hospital ran numerous tests, cat scans, etc. Probably a redundancy of many of the exams Bev had during her gastroenterologist appointments recently. So, her primary physician found nothing wrong with her, the gastro guy found nothing wrong with her, and now the hospital has found nothing wrong with her. I believe that my mother-in-law’s episodes of pain could quite possibly be psychological in nature, but no one in the family agrees with me. If a doctor does find a problem with her, I would gladly admit that I was wrong, and then, hopefully, they can make her well. But if there is no physical cause for all of this, then we should figure out a way to get her anxiety under control. Either way, the sooner we discover exactly what the issue is, the more sleep we will get around here!

Winter Wonderland - in Autumn

We ended up rescheduling our ski trip to Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We left home yesterday morning and had smooth sailing up I-75 until we were north of West Branch. It was a very windy day all across the state, but when it started snowing, the drive became quite exciting. The blowing snow caused white-out conditions, and occasionally we had to slow to less than 10 mph. We realized exactly how bad the travel weather had become when the Mackinac Bridge closed down for a time due to 50 mph sustained winds and reduced visibility. Needless to say, we arrived at the ski resort a bit later than anticipated.

Not surprisingly, the ski conditions up here are simply awesome. The slopes are almost empty, there are no lift lines, and all of the new snow has created fluffy powder. We had an issue with Jacob's ski bindings and had to rent him some skis. He was not too heartbroken, though and he, in fact, likes the rental skis better than his own. (Jacob's big news of the day: He did not fall down once!) The temperature was a tad brisk today, but we all bundled up so much that we began to sweat! Hopefully, we will remember to take the movie camera out on Wednesday and shoot some fun, new videos for your viewing pleasure. I will at least post some photos soon, as I did take the regular camera out today.

Skiing in the Rain

Jim, Adam, Jacob, and I thought that we would be clever this year, so we scheduled a ski trip up north during the less expensive “early season.” A few weeks ago, we reserved a room at the ski lodge for this Sunday through Tuesday. We were excited to hear about the unusually heavy amounts of snow that have been falling in northern Michigan. They have had more snow in the first ten days of December this year than they did the entire month last year. We looked forward to enjoying fresh powder on uncrowded runs. We dusted off our skis, dug out our thermal gloves, and even bought Adam a new snowboard for his birthday. Then we checked the weather forecast.

Rain. It is supposed to become warm and rain up there on Sunday! Normally, temperatures in the upper 30s or lower 40s are uncommonly wonderful for skiing. But, combined with precipitation, the rare, warm day on the slopes turns disastrous. And very slushy. Then, icy when everything eventually refreezes. Geez, it snows almost every single day of the month until we choose to venture to the ski resort, then it decides to rain. And, if a downpour does materialize, the ski area will actually just close, although they have informed us that we may reschedule to Monday through Wednesday if necessary. Rain – way to put a damper on a ski trip!

The Future Beckons

My niece and nephew each recently became proud owners of new fangled iPhones. From what I’ve seen, these contraptions are indeed quite amazing. They can be used to listen to music, take pictures & videos, surf the internet, update your blog, get directions, and much more. Oh, you can make phone calls, too. I always hoped and dreamed that someday an invention would come along that would enable the internet to be accessed easily from almost anywhere. I know, I know, the technology to do that has been around for a while, but it has really blossomed over the past year or two. Case in point - my own outdated cell phone can snap pictures and log onto the internet, but not nearly as effortlessly or quickly as the iPhone. Plus, I can barely see my miniscule little phone screen, much less read anything that is actually displayed. And, yes, I am often ridiculed by the under-30 crowd for still using an old-fashioned flip phone, which was actually very popular not that long ago. I'll probably always be one step behind! I have been told that these new, revolutionary cell phones are known as “smart” phones. I suppose I will just be stuck with my old, dumb phone until the iPhone becomes obsolete. Then, I can possibly afford one, and the newer generation, “genius” phones or something, will be out. I can only imagine what tasks the next innovative phones will be able to perform.

Supersized

For the past month or two, the perpetually gaunt Bev has been fussing that her “pants have been feeling tight” and that she has had “a bloated sensation” after every meal. I suggested to her that perhaps she was at long last gaining weight and was just not used to the extra padding in her midsection. She adamantly disagreed with me and babbled on and on about how she has worn the same few pairs of pants for the past twenty years - um, eewww! She was very obstinate that, although she tries, she simply CANNOT GAIN WEIGHT. Never. Ever. I explained to her that since she has been at the assisted living place, she has eaten three meals every day, and she never, ever did that before. And she gobbles down bags of candy and cookies on a weekly basis, and she never, ever did that before, either. I implied that she was merely getting chubby, but she insisted that something hideous was obviously wrong with her because her stomach never used to bulge out like it currently does. Bear in mind that when she lived at her house, meals consisted of coffee for breakfast, soup broth for lunch, and a cookie or two for dinner. If that.

Well, Bev grumbled to the on-staff physician at the assisted living place so much that he finally told her to go ahead and see a gastrointestinal specialist. Jim made Bev an appointment and took her to the gastro guy last week. One of Bev’s numerous Alzheimer’s gaffes for that day occurred when she wrote the year as “1988” on the forms she was filling out at the doctor’s office. Jim’s gaffe for that day occurred when he actually let her fill out her own paperwork. Anyway, when Bev first entered the hospital back in July, she weighed 79 pounds, and proceeded to lose weight while she was a patient there. She looked skeletal, and, trust me; skeletal is not a good look. Miraculously, she weighed in at 98 last week! So, my previously scrawny, emaciated mother-in-law is finally getting some meat on her bones, yet she is still baffled as to why her size extra-small sweats seem tight. I will just have to purchase some larger pants for her (a size small this time, perhaps?), and humor her that she simply needed a few new pairs of sweats to replace her decades-old ones. Then she can continue complaining how she simply never, ever gains weight, but, gee, at least her pants don’t feel tight anymore and that bloated sensation is gone. Maybe she will even give up the idea that her fleshy tummy is the result of some horrid disease. Hey, lady, welcome to the world of the flabby.

Country Elves Starring Pattye's Family

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Thanksgiving Recap

We had a great Thanksgiving this year. We gathered at Nancy’s house – 27 of us in all, including four who drove in from Delaware. The food was abundant and delicious. While some of the lazier individuals dozed in front of the television after dinner, the rest of us engaged in a rousing game of Taboo. We chose teams in our typical effortless and unoriginal fashion. Guys vs. Girls. We are usually quite evenly matched, and the guys ended up winning this time, but only by one stinking point. Later, my very thoughtful (and very brave) niece, Janet, took a group of the kids to see “High School Musical 3.” Some others moseyed over to the drive-through “Wayne County Lightfest.” A few people continued on to visit with other friends and relatives. Overall, it was a very enjoyable Thanksgiving.

Round is a Shape

I am half-heartedly attempting to get back on my WWND (What Would Norm Do?) diet and exercise program. Since May of 2006, Norm has hoofed around 900 days! I don’t think he is as driven as he once was about his walking regimen, but he still gets his exercise, eats well, has low cholesterol, and has kept his weight down. I meandered around the neighborhood on three separate occasions a few weeks ago, but stopped when the weather turned cold. I then decided to drag my exercise bike into the warm, cozy family room so I could ride it while watching television. Did that twice. I really wish that I could achieve the exhilarating euphoria that allegedly accompanies physical exertion. Where are those wonderful exercise-induced endorphins and when exactly are they supposed to kick in? Anyway, now that winter is on the way, we have a couple of ski trips planned. I figure that I really should get into some sort of shape so I don’t find myself whining and aching after a day on the slopes. This is certainly a challenging time of the year for me to try to stay away from snacks and goodies, but I'm going to give it a whirl. I'll keep you informed on my progress . . . or lack thereof!

Rockettes Rock

Jim, Jacob, Nancy, Richie, and I went to Joe Louis Arena tonight to see the “Radio City Christmas Spectacular.” I assumed weeks ago that most of the people at Jim’s office (Jim included) would deem this show “lame,” so I figured it was probably a good bet that their suite would be empty and available. I brilliantly finagled Jim into asking if there were any unused tickets for any of the six Rockettes performances at JLA, and, naturally, there were. Lots. Nancy, Richie, and I had planned to see the “Spectacular” anyway, so getting the free seats in the suite was a bonus for us. Jim, who prior to the show had absolutely no interest in it whatsoever, assumed that he would just go along and watch television inside the suite during the entire performance. Jacob, equally skeptical about liking it, also accompanied us somewhat reluctantly. Afterwards, both Jim and Jacob admitted that it was “pretty good,” and Jacob actually thanked me rather profusely for encouraging him to attend. And, while Jim claims that he really did like it, I think that he was probably just being a good sport and, given another opportunity to see the Rockettes, he would most likely pass. I, on the other hand, love the synchronization of those dancers and could watch them all day long.

Disco Elves

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Rainbow Fish

Jacob was able to attend his swimming class yesterday, and everything went well. His aching side seems to be completely healed, and the aquatic exercise did not bother it a bit. He twisted his ankle last Sunday tumbling down Richie’s basement stairs, though, and ended up with a huge bruise on the side of his foot. It just figures, then, that this would be the week that flippers were used in swim class. Instead of simply informing the instructor that his foot was hurt, Jacob stretched a fin on over his wound. The tight rubber proceeded to scrape against his already black and blue abrasion, creating a new red spot surrounding his original bruise. With such a multihued foot, one would hope that the boy would be extra careful not to impair it further. If he does manage to add any more colors to it, I will have to take a picture because it will surely break some sort of record for the most vibrant-looking foot injury on a child.

Senior Field Trip

A few weeks ago, Bev received permission to smoke in her room at the assisted living facility. We have to pay additional money for this benefit, and if she is caught using her oxygen while lighting up, the privilege will be taken away immediately. (Bev's solution: Just don't use that pesky oxygen!) Her apartment is now a cloudy, smelly little refuge, where the rest of her smoking cronies hang out because they do not want to spend the extra funds to smoke in their own rooms. Well, at least Bev always has company lately! Since she is not using her oxygen, with the possible exception of a few nights here and there, she is starting to huff and puff again when she walks just a few feet. Her oxygen level is low, and she is becoming more and more forgetful. The funny thing about Alzheimer’s disease is that the sufferers think that they are perfectly coherent and that no one else is remembering events correctly. It makes for some frustrating, yet still often comical, conversations.

Today, the assisted living place sponsored a trip for the seniors to the MGM Grand casino. Bev eagerly signed up for the outing last week, and told Jim that she would need some extra money for gambling. It was a four-hour excursion, with only about two of those hours actually spent inside the casino, yet Bev demanded $400 to drop into the slot machines. Jim gave her $200, but she whined and fussed so much that he caved in and gave her some additional cash. Anyway, who are these valiant employees who volunteered to chaperone, let loose, then attempt to keep track of Alzheimer’s patients running amok inside a huge gambling establishment? What brave souls! Word tonight is that Bev did not win any money, and she became quickly fatigued as she sauntered around the casino, stubbornly refusing to use either her walker or her portable oxygen. The staff members returned to the assisted living facility with the same number of residents that they left with, so the excursion was considered a success. I just hope the memory-altered gamblers were supervised enough to realize whether or not they may have actually hit a jackpot.

Costochondritis

For the past few weeks, Jacob has been experiencing sharp pains on the left side of his chest. The discomfort would sometimes come on suddenly even when he was just sitting around. Wednesday, when he screamed out in agony, I decided that it was finally time to bring him to the doctor. What a compassionate mom I am - only allowing his torture to go on for 17 days before offering to help. We went to the pediatrician yesterday, and after much poking and prodding, Jacob was diagnosed with costochondritis. Huh? The doctor told us that while it is not a common condition, it is certainly not rare, either. Evidently, the cartilage beneath his ribcage on his left side is inflamed, thus resulting in intense pain whenever it bulges out through the ribs. The cause could possibly have been an injury, a virus, or the straining of a muscle. Often, however, the origin is never determined. His treatment is 400 mg. of ibuprofen every 6 hours, and absolutely no strenuous activity. Which is kind of disappointing since his fall aquatics class began yesterday. Hopefully, he will be back in the swim in the next week or two.

Election Day Observations

Today’s presidential election was different from all of the previous ones in which I have participated. A few unusual things occurred. First of all, I wore shorts to the polls. (Ok, they were labeled “shorts” when I purchased them, but since I am short, they actually look like capris on me.) Anyway, our average high temperature for a November day is 48° or so, but today it reached 71°! It actually felt warm outside and I really enjoyed that. I arrived at my voting precinct this morning expecting to wait in a very long line. I brought along my I-Pod and four puzzles to keep me occupied. I was surprised to find myself behind only about 20 other people and was casting my ballot within 10 minutes. Adam came home from school, hurried to the polls, and only waited five minutes to vote. Jim went after work and found there was no line at all. So much for all of the dire warnings about having to endure lengthy lines. That never materialized in our neck of the woods, anyway.

I do remember specifically that in the 2000 presidential election, I did wait in an extremely slow-moving line. The reason that this is still so clear to me is because I was babysitting Jenna and Nick that day, and brought them, as well as Jacob, with me to vote. I vividly recall holding three toddler jackets, so it must have been cold outside, too. It was an interesting hour wait with a 2-year-old, a 3-year-old, and a 4-year-old grabbing at my legs and generally entertaining the otherwise bored crowd. Needless to say, today’s trip to the polls was effortless in comparison.

Halloween

Things have been so hectic lately that we almost overlooked our annual excursion to pick out pumpkins at a local farm. Fortunately, we found time to go this week and we chose some beauties – nine pumpkins in all. We carved the jack-o’-lanterns Thursday evening and they turned out as cute as ever. Jacob had a Halloween party this afternoon, went trick-or-treating at dusk, and then entertained Adam & his visiting friends in the evening. By the way, Jacob discovered one of Jim's very old costumes in our Halloween box, and decided to dress up as a prisoner this year. I guess touring Alcatraz made an impression on him, although not exactly the kind that a proud parent would envision.

The boys at the pumpkin patch.

Jacob starting to carve.

In costume.

A Wedding, Then a Funeral

The day after we arrived home from California, we received word that my Aunt Helen had passed away in northern Michigan. My cousins planned a memorial service for yesterday afternoon, so no sooner had we begun unpacking from one trip when we found ourselves repacking for another. Jacob, Irma, Nancy, and I trekked north on Saturday. We met up with some relatives, and then stopped by our farm to inspect the trees that we had planted in the spring. Jacob was able to get in some driving time on the back forty before we retired to our hotel for the night. On Sunday, we headed to Traverse City for the funeral. The weather was strange the entire weekend – we experienced sunshine one minute, followed by wind, rain, and sleet the next. The memorial service ended up being very nice, the dinner afterwards was ample & delicious, and our drive back home proved to be uneventful.

My Aunt Helen, 95-years-old at her death, had been my very last living aunt. My mom is the youngest of eleven children and my dad had nine older siblings. Out of all of these aunts and uncles, and all of their spouses, only my 84-year-old mother is still alive. Aunt Helen was, incidentally, one of four aunts that I had with the name of Helen. My parents both had a sister Helen, and two of my dad’s brothers married Helens. That name must have been all the rage back in the early 1900s.

We Love S.F.

Cousin Jenny's wedding on Saturday was just lovely. The weather was quite accommodating – which was fortunate since the ceremony took place outdoors. The bride was beautiful and the groom was handsome, and I would actually be able to prove that if only I had taken more pictures. Hopefully Nancy snapped some photos during the nuptials because I was so engrossed in the exchanging of vows that I completely forgot to take any then. The reception was great fun, and Jacob ended up pulling a muscle while busting some moves on the dance floor. He partied so much that he still has some lingering achiness. Who knew it was necessary to stretch and limber up prior to cutting the rug at a wedding reception?

We did a lot of sightseeing during our week in California. Besides excursions to the Golden Gate Bridge, the Monterey Peninsula (where I steered our rented minivan onto a golf cart path at Pebble Beach while attempting to maneuver out of a dead-end parking lot), and Half Moon Bay, we also spent lots of time in the city of San Francisco. Driving in that metropolis is simply crazy, with the steep hills and masses of pedestrians, yet we did it almost every day we were in the Bay Area. After Jim and Adam arrived, we toured Alcatraz Island, and Jacob vowed to never, ever disobey a law after seeing what a prison looked like from the inside. In addition, Jacob was finally able to take his long-awaited cable car ride, which thankfully quieted his incessant nagging on that subject.

We all arrived home last night; including Jacob and I, who were, in fact, scheduled to leave nine hours later than the others, but managed to snag seats on the earlier plane by flying standby. So, now it is back to the old grind, and getting re-acclimated to this cold weather here at home. Brrrrr!

Adam and Jacob on the porch where the wedding ceremony took place.

The bride holding her niece. Her brother is on the right, Jacob is on the left.

Cousin Dave playing his trombone with his band, "YOWZA!"

An Alcatraz corridor. This one was named "Broadway."

A tiny Alcatraz cell, sans bed.

Jacob and Jim on their cable car ride.

California Pix

Here are a few pictures we have taken while we have been in California. Fortunately, Adam and his trusty laptop arrived here last night, so I will be blogging again soon!

Look at the funny rock towers people built on this beach.

The Golden Gate Bridge.

The streets in San Francisco are steep!

Lombard Street in the background.

This two-story Target store has an escalator for carts!

Jacob found a dead marine creature.

The New Candidate

Check out this video that my cousin Dave sent from California. He has my vote! We will see him soon, as his daughter’s wedding is a week from today.

Jacob, Nancy, and I fly to San Francisco on Tuesday. Jim and Adam will come out on Friday after work/school. Jenny’s wedding is at a country club in the shadow of the Pacific Coastal Range in one of the oldest wine regions in California. It sounds like a simply breathtaking setting. I plan to snap lots of pictures, not only at the wedding, but also during our various sightseeing jaunts. I’ll post them here as soon as I can. Unfortunately, I will not have access to a computer from Tuesday until Adam arrives with his laptop on Friday night, and I know I will suffer blog withdrawal! I am already sweating just thinking about it! Hopefully, as soon as we pick up Jim and Adam from SFO on Friday, we can rush back to our hotel and I can upload some of our photos taken throughout the week.

OCD

As many of you know, Jacob has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He was diagnosed shortly after the automobile accident that killed Jim’s dad. While the accident was not the cause of his OCD, it did trigger his anxiety to develop into the full-blown disease. Unless you live with a mental health patient 24/7, it is truly hard to understand the depth of this particular illness. And while Jacob’s OCD was initially labeled severe, it has progressed to more moderate levels, and even mild levels over the years. I promise to write more about OCD in the future – like how it is so much more prevalent than diseases like autism and schizophrenia, for example, yet it does not receive half of the attention or funding as those disorders. For anyone interested in learning a bit more now, check out some of these websites:

OC Foundation

Kids Health - OCD

OCD - What It Is
Anyway, Jacob eagerly agreed to participate in a pediatric OCD clinical research study at U of M recently. The child psychiatrist leading the study is attempting to determine how brain development in children with OCD differs from that of children without the disorder. See This. We went last week for an “interview” that lasted an entire afternoon, and then a few days later, Jacob went back to the campus for an MRI. He had to lie inside the machine for an hour and look into a slanted mirror situated above his head in order to view a computer that was rigged up behind him. He also had a hand-held mouse-like device that he used to respond to commands from the computer, while the MRI machine whirred and clunked around him. After all was said and done, Jacob raved about how fun the study had been, especially the MRI! He was also excited to learn that he would receive $100 in compensation from U of M. The results of this particular research will be published next year, and the ultimate goal of the investigation is to make new treatments available for kids suffering from OCD. We look forward to more and more studies occurring in the future so this OCD monster can someday be eradicated!

Jacob sliding into the MRI machine.

Jacob preparing to do his part to advance science.

The Price of Fun

Last night we went to a Red Wing pre-season hockey game at Joe Louis Arena. Jim had four tickets for his work suite, but the company did not splurge on food for us because it was not a regular season game and we were not entertaining clients or anything. So, although our seats and drinks were free for the evening, we had to purchase our own snacks, and somehow we managed to spend a whopping amount of money on them. Ok, I do not really mean we, because Jim never once trudged down to a concession stand. Jacob and I made all of the refreshment jaunts, and I must say it is shocking how much they rip you off for food at sport venues. A family of four could easily drop, say . . . $40, on pretzels and ice cream and such, and that doesn’t even include any drinks. Or parking fees. And, if a family actually had to pay for tickets, they would end up spending $300 or more for a night of hockey. It can safely be said, therefore, that if Jim’s company did not offer their suite to us occasionally, we would never, ever get to see a Red Wing game in person. How do some families justify spending that much money on sporting events week after week anyway? They must truly be bona fide fans! Or spendthrifts. Or rich.

On a separate note, I asked Jim the other day if he ever reads my blog, and he replied dryly, “I don’t have to read it, I live it.” Cute.

Our view from the rafters, er, suite.

Jacob in the outer seating area. Jim is inside.

Ford vs. Honda

Back in July, Jim and Jacob were driving to Bev's rehab facility one evening for a visit. An ambulance with wailing sirens came up behind them, and Jim obediently reduced his speed and pulled over to the side of the road. Unfortunately, a Ford Focus following them did not slow down quickly enough, and rammed into the back of Jim’s Honda Civic. The teenaged driver of the offending vehicle was very apologetic, and Jim graciously chose to ignore the ding in his bumper since it was only about the size of a nickel. Jim did, however, sometimes gripe and whine about the cosmetic damage to his still-fairly-new car. My advice was to just leave it alone, because the dent was, in fact, scarcely even noticeable. (Official repair estimate: $400)

Last week on his way to work, Jim’s Civic was hit once again. This time it was sideswiped by a Ford Explorer that was changing lanes on the freeway. The driver evidently did not see that Jim was already occupying the lane he desired to be in, and his SUV collided with the Civic while attempting to merge. Jim filed a police report because that was the only way our insurance company would reimburse us for fixing these more obvious bangs and scrapes. (Official repair estimate: $1,200)

Yesterday evening, Jim and Jacob were on their way to Lowe’s when the Civic was struck for a third time. They were simply waiting at a red light, when a Ford F-150 pick-up plowed into them from behind. And using the term “plowed” is appropriate since it was a snowplow hitch-thingy on the front of the truck that actually caused the new damage to the Civic’s rear bumper. The driver never even apologized, and actually made light of the situation, saying, “Things like this happen all the time.” Well, yes, they do seem to happen to the Civic rather frequently. But hitting someone’s automobile, causing damage, then not even expressing a hint of regret seems somewhat discourteous to me. (Educated guess on repair estimate: $800)

So, although Jim is a very careful driver, he has become a bit paranoid about people continuously running into his car. Either the Civic has some sort of magnetic field that attracts other vehicles (Fords in particular), or it is just plain cursed. The insurance company will cover most of the $2,400 collision shop fee. And, they say that since none of the incidents were Jim’s fault, our insurance rates will not go up. (Har har, riiight!) Maybe we should not bother to have any of the dents repaired, and we can just enter the Civic in a Demolition Derby or something instead. We would barely even notice any additional scratches or bumps on the poor little sedan.

Riki's Wedding

Jim and I went to his cousin Riki’s wedding reception Saturday night. We were not invited to the actual wedding ceremony, as it was apparently a small, private affair held earlier that afternoon. Riki is the daughter of Aunt Mavis, Bev’s younger sister. When Riki was born, her father, Rick, was disappointed that she was a girl because he intended to name his first child after himself. I didn’t know Uncle Rick very well, as he passed away shortly after Jim and I were married, but most relatives do not speak of him in a very positive light. Anyway, Uncle Rick insisted that his newborn be known as some variation of “Richard,” so his daughter was christened Richelle. The year after Riki was born, Aunt Mavis and Uncle Rick had another baby, and this time it was a boy. If they would have just had the patience to wait, Rick could have had his little Rick, Jr. a short time later. They went on to have two more sons in two more years, and Rick apparently never got over the fact that he wasted his good name on a daughter. Nice guy.

Riki ended up marrying an old family friend, who is a divorced father of four young kids. His children looked adorable and seemed quite attached to Riki. Bev’s cousin, Nancy, had originally planned to pick her up for the wedding, and then the two of them were going to sleep over at another relative’s house. At the last minute, however, Nancy had to cancel, so Debbie agreed to drive Bev to the shindig. Bev was well behaved, but did keep referring to her senior apartment as her place of employment. She spoke of leaving her job at five o'clock, punching out, and forgetting her bag of Hershey bars on her desk at work. Sigh. Overall, the reception ended up being very enjoyable. And now Riki, who always vowed to have a “household goods shower” for herself if she had not tied the knot before she turned 40, has all the domestic items she needs. Including a ready-made family. And, since she recently celebrated her 40th birthday, her engagement and wedding shower both occurred within her self-imposed time frame. Whew.

Tae Kwon Do

Tonight was Jacob’s first tae kwon do lesson at our local community center. He went eagerly, and looked forward to purchasing his uniform when he arrived for the class. There were almost 20 students, and the majority of them were beginners like Jake. Jim and I sat with the other parents, and watched our kids learn basic punches, kicks, and blocks. The instructors emphasized respect and the fact that tae kwon do is only to be used in self-defense. If Jacob actually sticks with this martial arts stuff and becomes skilled at performing the moves properly, Adam eventually won’t stand a chance of landing a blow on Jake while they are “playfully tussling.” (Playfully tussling, clashing, brawling, whatever you want to call it!) And, lest anyone thinks that tae kwon do is an inexpensive activity in which to partake, let me be the first to reveal that the darling little uniform actually cost more than what we paid for the entire 6-week class. At least it will make a charming Halloween costume if this tae kwon do gig doesn’t fly.

Mr. Tae Kwon Do practicing his bow.

Genealogy 101

Next month, we are traveling to San Francisco to attend the wedding of my cousin’s daughter. Jenny, the bride, is my first cousin, once removed. She is a second cousin to Adam and Jacob. Jenny’s father, Dave, is my first cousin, but for simplicity sake – and Lord knows I like things simple – I just think of us all as cousins. The wedding sounds as if it is going to be fabulous and Jenny will make an absolutely stunning bride! We are all looking forward to being there for the big day.

Dave, the father of the bride, is a great guy who we do not see nearly as often as we would like. We rendezvoused with him when we were in the U.P. in July, as he travels there annually. The boys and I visited California two years ago and spent some time with Dave then. He gave us quite a grand tour of his hometown and the surrounding environs, and, believe me, it is a gorgeous area. Check out his city’s website – http://www.newark.org. Oh, did I mention that Dave is also the mayor of his city, and has been for 30 years or so? He is the longest-standing mayor in California and one of the longest-serving in the country! (Kwame, can you hear me?) I will be sure to take lots of pictures when we are in the Bay area so you can see for yourselves how pretty it is out there.

A Visit from Ike

July and August were extremely dry around our house. It seldom rained, and I neglected my outdoor plants terribly. My flowers would wither and shrivel until I was ambitious enough to lug out a watering can, after which they would perk back up for a day or two. Our lawn became a dismal shade of brown, due partly to the fact that our underground sprinkler system was out of order for the entire summer and we never took the time to repair it. Our township imposed voluntary odd-even watering restrictions, and we had no problem obeying those rules since the sprinklers were sitting idle anyway. There have been benefits to this drought of 2008, too. Most importantly, there have been very few mosquitoes this year. I never even brought out the bug spray during our camping trip last month, or at any other time for that matter.

It was with great confidence, therefore, that we planned numerous outdoor activities for last weekend. First, Jacob and I looked forward to meeting a group of friends at a park late Friday afternoon. Well, guess what? It started to rain. Hard enough to call off our get-together. Then, Jim’s company had its annual golf outing scheduled for Saturday morning. Employees came not only from his office, but from out of town as well. The torrential downpour continued and the company shindig was cancelled. Pattye organized a housewarming party for Janet on Saturday afternoon, and the rain persisted. When all was said and done on Sunday night, we had received almost 4 inches. Many areas were flooded, some folks lost electricity, and a tornado even touched down about 5 miles north of our house. And, during the height of this three-day monsoon, our sump pump conked out, resulting in an overflow of ground water into our basement. Talk about crappy timing! (At least it was not crappy water!)

Well, the weekend is over, the sun has returned, and, of course, we do not have anything planned outside for the next few days. We did not have to endure the full wrath of Hurricane Ike, though, just the measly remnants of the storm. So I guess I will quit griping about our bad luck and appreciate the fact that we have water, power, and a roof still over our heads. Which is more than some of Jim’s colleagues in Houston currently have. On a positive note, our grass has turned green and my flowers have started to bloom again. I just hope we don’t get an early frost now, so I can enjoy the impatiens for a few weeks.

How to Kill Seven Trees in Sixteen Years

The year after we moved into our house, the township planted two ash trees in the grassy strip between our front sidewalk and the street. Jim and I hired a landscape company to put more trees, two good-sized maples, in our backyard. We then bought a decorative Japanese maple tree for the front of the house and a weeping cherry for the side. We were pleased with the appearance of our collection of flora and foliage, and were excited to think about what our six trees would look like as they flourished and grew. It was the summer of 1992.

In the fall of 1993, we were dismayed to discover that our pretty Japanese maple was dying. We consulted a nursery near our house and were informed that these trees "are just difficult to grow." We left it alone, hoping that it would somehow come back to life and sprout buds the following spring. No such luck. One tree down. We eventually swapped it for another Japanese maple that also died. Today, a plum tree stands in its place.

In 1995, our weeping cherry wept for the last time. Two trees down. After we removed the unfruitful skeleton, we decided to just replace that tree with a bush. A few years later, one of our lovely maples in the backyard began to show signs of distress. Again, we checked with a local nursery only to discover that there was no cure for the ailing tree. We ended up chopping it down and using it for firewood during a camping trip. Three trees down. We replaced the maple with another one that is currently doing well. In 2001, the infamous ash borer disease struck our two awesome, 20-foot tall ash trees in our front easement. They were bare sticks by the summer of 2002, and the township ground them up into tiny chips and hauled them away. Trees four and five down.

Last year, we were disappointed when our sixth, and last, original tree started to die. We were sure that with some TLC we could nurse it back to health. To make a long story short, Jim just finished chopping up that last, sad maple tree yesterday. Six trees down. Now, I understand that the ash borer disease was beyond our control. But, our uncanny ability to choose four other trees – five, if you count our second doomed Japanese maple – that were destined to croak seems odd to me. Obviously, we do not have green thumbs, but trees are not cheap things to replace again and again. We still do not know exactly what went wrong, though we are hopeful and optimistic that all of our new replacement trees and bushes will continue to thrive.

Knock on wood.

Airport Open House

A few years back, Detroit’s airport constructed a snazzy new building to replace one of its old and obsolete terminals. Before the “McNamara Terminal” officially opened in 2002, the public was invited to an “open house” to walk around and ooh & aah at the glitzy new layout. The boys and I visited, along with Nancy and Richie. Soon afterwards, construction began on a replacement for another of our airport’s outdated terminals. On Saturday, the brand new “North Terminal” was ready for its public debut. Again, Jim, Jacob, Nancy, Richie, and I decided to attend. We arrived at the designated parking area around 1:30 p.m. There were already a lot of people there, and a looong line was forming to wait for shuttle buses that would whisk us to the new part of the airport. I barely noticed that the sun was beating down and that the line was moving excruciatingly slowly, because we were situated just east of one of DTW’s main runways, and planes were taking off almost continuously. We did, in fact, wait in that bus line for almost an hour, but I heard very few complaints because the crowd was mostly made up of aviation enthusiasts who appreciated the awesome entertainment occurring on the runway just over our shoulders. Anyway, the “open house” was fun and we gathered lots of free brochures, books, snacks, and trinkets. The new “North Terminal” is very nice, and is styled in a similar fashion to the “McNamara Terminal,” although it is a bit smaller. The high-tech features, and a myriad of stores and restaurants will, I’m sure, make it very popular with travelers. Coincidentally, the bus that we took from the parking lot over to the airport ended up being the same bus that we took back to the car after we left the “open house.” Our bus driver informed us that he is the official driver for the Plymouth Whalers hockey team, and I told him that my 19-year-old son was not with us at the airport that afternoon because he went to the 2:00 p.m. Whalers game instead. Small world.

Jacob working at gate D 17.

Now he is at Southwest Airlines.

Uh-oh! The scale said "overweight bag."

Life in the Slow Lane

Bev is kind-of-sort-of becoming accustomed to life at the senior home. I say this with an air of hesitation, though, since I actually have not been to visit her yet this week. Ok, maybe it just seems like she is finally adjusting well, only because I have not sat with her for any extended period of time lately and listened to her moan about how she “has it all together” and she “will be just fine at home.” Bev still phones me frequently asking the same things over and over and over again. I have begun to save her bizarre messages on our home answering machine and on my cell phone lest anyone doubts that she truly has Alzheimer’s disease. That way I can just hit the replay button for any skeptics and it will amaze them that I have taken care of the woman for this long and have still managed to keep my sanity intact. Bev is smoking like a chimney, not using her oxygen properly, and making rude & embarrassing comments in front of the other elderly residents. I accompanied her to the dining room for lunch last week, and when she was given her plate of food, she screeched, “Look at the sh*t they expect me to eat.” (Incidentally, she ate every last bit of the sh*t.) One of her tablemates, an adorable woman named Betty, refers to Bev as "a real hoot." Well, I imagine Bev does spice up the previously mundane mealtime conversations with some outlandish, fabricated anecdotes, punctuated by her colorful language. So goes life with a disgruntled dementia patient.

The Bear

We went camping at our farm over the weekend with 23 of our closest friends and relatives. Most of us slept in tents outdoors because, unfortunately, the farmhouse is in a pitiful state of disrepair. It does boast a toilet and running water, though, so that alone makes up for many of its inadequacies. The trip was an annual gig that our gang normally takes in July. Some members of our group have attended every trip for over 35 years. We all refer to the weekend as “The Bear,” since we often camp at the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park. But, we have discovered over the past few years, if you do not make campsite reservations early enough in the season, you run the risk of ending up at the family farm, which, mercifully, is always available for our group. All 23 of us went canoeing on the Platte River Saturday and had a blast. A few people spent some of their time bike riding and others went to the beach at Lake Michigan. Five of the more adventurous folks took a grueling 4-hour hike on Sunday over the sand dunes. We had campfires each night and shared many amusing stories, often laughing hysterically. All in all, it was a great weekend, and it was nice to get away from at-home responsibilities, even if only for a few days.

Adam and Muffin hang out while the farm grass is being mowed.

The grass is finally shorter and some tents are going up.

Five fearless hikers, ready to embark on their journey.

Adam, in the black shirt, doing what he does best at the beach. Notice the dune hill off in the distance.

Adios Playset

We had the family over for a BBQ on Sunday to celebrate Jim’s, Eric’s, and Annie’s birthdays. Lots of fun, as usual! That evening, we began to disassemble our old, neglected backyard playset in order to get it ready to be hauled away by some friends. The friends have three young kids that actually want the swing set at their house, unlike Jacob, who has not used it for years. Jacob never was much of a swinger anyway. Jim and our next-door neighbor worked on disconnecting the plastic slide from the main structure and I made myself useful by wiping gross web-like larva crud off all the wooden boards. We plugged away for at least an hour and a half until it got dark. On Monday evening, Jim and Adam removed one of the main 12-foot long crossbars that held the set together. That took them about an hour and a half. We figured that it would take around 7 or 8 additional hours to finish taking the thing apart. On Tuesday, Ken, the swing set recipient, came over, and after about an hour and a half he had dismantled the entire wooden playscape and organized it into tidy stacks ready to be loaded into his vehicle. Hmmm. Well, he is an engineer, so we will just say that is the reason he was able to complete the task so quickly and efficiently. It couldn’t be that Jim, Adam, our neighbor, and I are just pathetically inept and hopelessly un-handyman-ish, could it?

Going . . .

Going . . .

Gone!

WOW - Not so Amazing

Our cable, internet, and phone have all gone kaput lately. All at the same time. More than once. And sometimes for hours at a stretch. I am beginning to think that signing up for a bundle package from one company – WOW in our case – might not have been such a swell strategy. Yesterday, for example, I was on the computer and Jacob was doing something in the family room with “The Suite Life of Zack and Cody” blaring in the background. Suddenly, I heard a loud, static-y sound and Jake, by now used to WOW conking out, just yelled matter-of-factly, “Cable’s out again.” Great – and right when I was poised to post some documents onto a website to which I contribute. My mom was trying to call me, and after repeatedly not getting through, she finally tried my cell phone, which, fortunately, was charged and working. Our WOW also went down during an Olympic gold medal ceremony that I was watching last week. Very annoying, especially because I love medal ceremonies and they do not broadcast enough of them as far as I am concerned. Oddly, Richie, who only lives a mile away from us and has the same WOW package, said he has not experienced any service interruptions. He claims that the problem, therefore, must lie with the outdoor wiring in our neighborhood. Anyway, we are notifying WOW, and Jim has threatened to deduct the outage times from our monthly payment. Which would really just make the company chuckle because so far it would amount to less than a dollar or two. But it is the principle of the thing here. I never realized how much I relied on technology until it was not available!

Father-Son Weekend Camp

Jacob and Jim arrived home from their camping trip Sunday evening after spending an extra two hours sitting in a traffic jam on the freeway. They had a wonderful weekend along with Jacob’s good friend and his dad, who coincidentally is one of my oldest buddies. The camp they attended is owned and operated by a Catholic organization, although you do not have to be particularly religious to go there. The father-son pairs participated in many organized activities together, including horseback riding, archery, swimming, and a multitude of outdoor games. And for those of you who think that Catholics do not have a sense of humor – the bathroom building at the campground was officially labeled “St. John.” After leaving the camp on Sunday, the foursome visited Fort Michilimackinac in Mackinaw City before heading home. Here are a few pictures snapped by Jim.

Jacob and his buddy at the campfire building contest. Young pyromaniacs at work!

This horse loved Jacob.

"St. John" in the distance.

A "Redcoat" at the fort.

A nice view of the Mackinac Bridge, looking north.

Busted Again

Jim, Jacob, and I dropped in to visit Bev yesterday. We could not find her in her apartment, in the dining room, or in the activity area. On a whim, we decided to check the outdoor porch, and, alas, there she sat puffing away on a cigarette. Bev admitted that Debbie had broken down, bought her a pack of smokes, and given her a lighter as well. She claimed that she had been hiding out and smoking in her bathroom until one of the patient care workers caught her. Not only has her doctor advised her not to smoke, but – hello – she is using oxygen. Plus, we can be fined $250 if she does light up inside her room. How unbelievably lame is Debbie? I cannot tell you how often Bev has phoned us recently not even being able to recall where she was or how she got there. She maintains that she will only smoke outdoors, but it is just a matter of time before she forgets that, too. The staff is aware that she has cigarettes and a lighter in her apartment, and they realize that Jim and I do not trust her with anything that can be lit, yet they permit her to keep her stash. I spoke with Bev’s doctor on Wednesday, and he confirmed that her oxygen level is so low that a combination of smoking and not using her oxygen regularly will ultimately shut down her organs. So, besides worrying about that, I will also have to fret that all of the sweet senior citizens that we have come to know will be rendered homeless when Bev blows up the extended care facility. Can anyone control this woman?

P.S. Jim and Jacob left for a weekend father/son camping trip on Friday afternoon, so I hope to have news and pictures of their adventures soon.

Jacob Kicks Butt at Senior Bingo

We moved Bev into the extended care facility on Saturday. Her furniture is filthy and reeks of stale smoke, but she insists on having her own things there. We reluctantly brought her favorite chair, even though it is truly repulsive and it does have a 5”x 5” burn hole in it where her cigarette started a small fire when she fell asleep one day. After we checked Bev into her apartment, she easily wheeled her new walker to the dining room for lunch. She also willingly agreed to attend bingo later that afternoon, and Jacob accompanied her to the activity room. While there, the activity director invited Jacob to join the seniors. Jim and I eventually went to track them down, and found Jacob sitting at Bev’s table with his own bingo cards and a bucket of bingo chips. He had a rollicking time playing, the old folks loved his enthusiasm, and he won $2.00 – at 25 cents a victory. They informed me that Jacob is welcome at senior bingo any time, even though he won about half of the games. We ended up spending a large part of our Saturday with Bev - over 6 hours! After we left, she called us ten times wondering why we hadn’t picked her up yet from “the motel.” Apparently, she also phoned Debbie, accusing her of not telling her anything and demanding some cigarettes. Bev tends to get more confused and extra agitated in the evening, which is a phenomenon with Alzheimer’s patients commonly known as “Sundowning.”

When we returned to visit Bev on Sunday, she was crabby. We stayed for over 2 hours, and when we got up to go she sarcastically thanked us for “leaving her in hell.” Jim became angry and began lecturing her about how she never used to eat or take her meds at home, and how she has never had any interests outside of gambling anyway. She just whined about having nothing to do, and we immediately countered her grumbling by reading aloud the extensive list of activities available for her. She moaned about not wanting to do any of that stuff, which did not surprise us in the least, since she has been that way her entire life. So, does anyone have a copy of Tolerating the Irritable Senior for Dummies?

Disaster Averted

On Tuesday, we finally chose an extended care “residence” (their word, not ours) for Bev. We picked out one of the available apartments there, and then began the preliminary steps for discharge from the rehab place. Which, unbeknown to us, has ended up being quite an extensive procedure. Even lengthier, however, is the process to get into the new place. Besides filling out mounds of paperwork and securing numerous doctor signatures, we had to arrange for Bev to undergo an “interview” to make sure that she would be “a good fit for the extended care community.” Yikes! An interview!? I really sweated that one out all day long today. I just imagined the stories that Bev might tell the folks from the new senior place. I worried that she would possibly use some colorful language or even tell them all where to go. And I thought for sure that she would inform them that she had no intention of living at their @*%#& facility. Apparently, all went well because she was accepted this afternoon and can move in on Saturday. WHEW! We have been attempting to clean some of the furniture (*gag*) at her house and plan to move it into the new apartment tomorrow. Along with all of the other paraphernalia that emphysema-riddled, Alzheimer’s patients need. I will try to remember to snap some photos at Bev's new place this weekend. I only hope that she doesn’t despise it too much.

Bev Almost Gets the Boot

Bev’s Alzheimer’s disease has been diagnosed as late-stage. The neuropsychologist that I spoke with explained that Bev’s quick decline was due to a number of factors, including lack of oxygen, improper nutrition, extreme fragility, improper medications, and her fall. Ever since that diagnosis was made two weeks ago, though, Bev has made some pretty impressive progress. She is no longer delusional, although she is still very forgetful and quite confused. She has been prescribed a myriad of medications that I think are partially responsible for her improvement, but we still plan to request a re-evaluation of her Alzheimer’s since it does seems to be more middle-stage now.

To add to our daily fun, the rehab place called late Saturday afternoon to inform us that Bev was set to be released on Sunday. HUH?! I had recently attended a meeting with all of her caregivers, and it had been determined that she still required weeks of physical therapy in order to do simple things – like say, walk, for example. Jim and I rushed up to the nursing facility and had a discussion with the social worker who had just phoned. She said that Bev’s Medicare only covered 20 days of skilled care, so we would have to either a) pick her up the next morning, or b) pay $206 per day out of pocket if she stayed. To make a long story short, I met with someone there today and resolved the Medicare issue. Most of the blame for the mix-up lies with Jim’s sister, Debbie, as the rehab place mailed some materials to her house instead of ours, and she just threw everything away without opening it. (Not the first time this has happened; she once pitched a $2,000 insurance check unopened into the trash because she "didn't recognize the return address!") Jim, Debbie, and Jay had hoped that Bev would eventually be able to return home, but realize now that she really does need 24-hour care. This became apparent to them when it was established that the three of them would be the main parties responsible for providing this daily supervision. The fact that it would include dressing her, giving her meds three times a day, making her meals, assisting her in the bathroom (eeew!), and taking turns sleeping over at her house proved to be a bit more than any of them bargained for. We have looked at so many assisted living residences lately that our heads are spinning. I guess we will be choosing one any day now. And if anyone ever needs assistance in securing living arrangements for an elderly friend or relative, just ask us. We have become somewhat-reluctant, yet well-informed experts in the field of senior care.

Sad News

My brother’s mother-in-law, Lucy, passed away unexpectedly on Sunday. She had been in the hospital since July 1st and was undergoing inpatient chemotherapy for stomach cancer. Since she had been a cancer survivor in the past, everyone assumed and hoped that she would pull through again and return home. Apparently, the cancer had already spread, though, and nothing else could be done. Along with Lucy's family, my own mom misses her terribly, too. They were neighbors for over 60 years and, if they weren’t shopping or going out to eat together, they were talking to each other on the phone. Such sad news. Wish it weren’t true.

The Summer Blast

On Saturday, Nancy, Norm, Richie, and I attended our elementary/junior high/high school reunion. Jim and Jacob came, too. The "Summer Blast" has taken place annually for the past five years or so, but this is the first time that any of us have made it. Over time, the affair has developed into a big, casual picnic held in a nearby park. It is open to all attendees of any of our schools. Or nearby schools. And the immediate and extended family members of any school attendees. And friends. In other words, the organizers pretty much don’t care who the heck comes to this reunion. The whole event was um, interesting, in that I only knew about ten people outside of our little group. I did get to visit with my 1st grade and 4th grade teachers, who remembered me – or so they said. I think Norm found more people that he knew than the rest of us did. All in all, it was a fun day; as the weather was beautiful, we had food & drinks, and we actually did end up chatting with some long-lost acquaintances. Next year, though, we vow to bring our brother, Wayne, his wife & in-laws, and some more school friends that we still see regularly. Then it will really be a blast.

Medical Woes

The geriatric psychiatrist finally examined Bev on Tuesday. Diagnosis: Alzheimer’s disease, which I have learned is a type of dementia. I am attempting to get in touch with the psychiatrist to find out the stage and prognosis. The nurses accidentally gave me the name of the geriatric neuropsychologist to phone yesterday (instead of the psychiatrist) and when I called her, she said that she had never even met or assessed Bev. The neuropsychologist was very nice, though, and did promise to drop in on Bev today. Now I have to hunt down the psychiatrist who actually performed the dementia evaluation. Whew. Psychiatrist. Neuropsychologist. You would think a nurse would know the difference, and be able to give a patient’s family the right doctor with whom to make contact. Jim and I have appointments to check out a few more dementia extended care places on Saturday. The reality that Bev will never go home or be her old self again is finally setting in for Jim and his siblings, and it is really quite disheartening.

Bev is still delusional, and, yes, she is pretty funny even now. At least she has been less anxious and agitated the past few days. Her distressing delusions have not been too prevalent lately, due partly to her medications. A lot of the time, she thinks that she is either at a hotel, at her sister’s house (“breaking in”), awaiting surgery of some sort or another, or wandering around downtown Detroit where she used to live. She did decline a trip “to London with the girls to attend the King’s wedding," though, because she did not want to fly that far. Sigh. I wonder if anyone has ever done a study on Alzheimer's patients to try to determine exactly how and why they come up with some of the things that they say. It would be interesting, that’s for sure. I commented to the workers at Bev’s rehab place that they must hear some wild stories, like how we had been in jail, for example. We all had a good chuckle about that one again.

My brother’s mother-in-law has - sadly - been diagnosed with stomach cancer. She did beat cancer in the past, so hopefully she can hang in there and defeat it again. I am certainly ready to hear some good news from the medical front any day now.

I Love My New TV

For the past few weeks, we have been shopping for a new television. I have learned things about TVs that I never even wanted to know. I now possess knowledge about plasma vs. LCD. I understand about contrast and about 720 vs. 1080 resolution. After comparing what seemed like about 25,000 different TV sets, we finally settled on a 52” flat screen, LCD, full-HD Olevia. We brought it home tonight, set it up, and have been playing with it for hours. We discovered, quite by accident, that our WOW cable/internet/phone bundle includes free high definition service for seven different channels. Now, all we need to do is add a DVR to our WOW package, so we can actually record shows using something other than our ancient VCR. And maybe get the HD service for the rest of our channels. Then, we will finally be on our way to crossing the threshold into the 21st century!

Dementia and Delusions

Bev was transferred to a rehab facility on Monday afternoon after two weeks in the hospital. The hospital was, in my opinion, not very well equipped to deal with her increasing memory loss issues. The rehab place has already diagnosed Bev with dementia, and is coordinating her care with their geriatric psychiatrist. The psych guy will assess her, establish what stage and level her dementia is at, and determine her prognosis. After that, we will have a few weeks to decide which long-term care facility in which to place her.

Dementia struck Bev hard and fast, and it is not a pretty thing. Sometimes Bev is very agitated and angry; other times she is quite passive. Her thoughts now are about 90% delusions, which are easier to deal with, in some ways, than if she were more coherent. We are trying to remain upbeat, and one way to accomplish this is to accept the fact that nothing we do can reverse these symptoms. There is no use correcting or arguing with Bev - that only results in more confusion and frustration on her part. There is usually a hint of entertainment in her “stories,” and I, for one, try to look for that each day. Otherwise, I would be overwhelmed with the reality of exactly how gloomy this disease is.

In her mind this past week, Bev has:
~Tried to make phone calls on her hand-held poker game.
~Been on an airplane to Vegas.
~Worked at her old job at an answering service.
~Resigned from her old job at the answering service.
~Traveled all over Michigan, the U.P. included.
~Visited with my mom, dad (dead since ’92), and sister.
~Informed us that she won’t be available to babysit while we work.
~Wondered why we were all in jail last weekend.

It all just goes on and on. Adam and Jacob went to the rehab place with us this evening. Bev knew exactly who they were (!), but wondered where our “little one” was. We did have a good laugh about the jail comment, too. Every day brings something new and intriguing. I think when we do receive Bev’s prognosis and get her settled into a safe living environment, we will actually be able to continue on with our own lives in a somewhat normal way. At least that is what I am hoping for! I'll keep you all informed.

U.P. Pix

Tomorrow, I hope to update the blog regarding Jim's mother's condition, which has deteriorated significantly since my last post. My brother's mother-in-law is also hospitalized and is quite ill. Sigh.

In the meantime, here are a few pictures taken during our trip to the U.P.

Jim and Jacob posed on our beach. Adam participated in his favorite beach activity.

Adam later dug a hole until he reached water. It was about 2 feet deep.

Jacob made a hole, too.

We stopped by Waterworks Park to pick rocks. The pickings were slim.

We visited the "Mystery Spot." Fun!

Here is the Mackinac Bridge.