Casino Royale…Pain: Pt. ll


Miss Cathy hadn’t been gambling in awhile so the other day I asked, “Do you want to go to the casino?”

To which she queried, “Do YOU want to go to the casino?”

Oh great, answering a question with a question, my favorite way to start the day.

I’d rather poke my eyes out with a dull butter knife, but, instead I replied, “No, I don’t but YOU want to go so I’m saying that I can take you if you want.”

Of course ‘she want’ so as soon as she could put her walking shoes on, get her cane, toddle out to the car and fumble with her seatbelt we were off to her version of Paradise off the Baltimore/Washington Parkway.

She lit up like a Christmas tree in the car, absolutely giddy with the prospect of ‘hitting it big”.

Unfortunately, ‘Giddy’ didn’t translate into Miss Cathy moving any ‘faster’ so she moved at the usual snails pace once we arrived even though she was actually excited to going out amongst’m.

Mom recently said that she had a ‘feeling’ she was going to win a lot of money-not unlike countless other seniors who wind up leaving much more money than that came with but I kept that factoid to myself as I steeled myself for the outing and steered us toward Live Casino.

After dropping her off at the entrance with instructions to wait while I park, we entered together, me looking as if I’d rather be anywhere than here but focused on getting her to her beloved fifty cent slot machines without a mishap and she like ticket holder to Willy
Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

We approached the entrance, complete with a waist high glass and chrome gate with separate doors designated for coming ‘in’ and going ‘out’, manned by not one but at least three people (kind of like the casino’s version of a Wal-Mart greeter-times three).

If you’re lucky it’s ‘Hello” or “Welcome to Live Casino” but more often than not it’s a nod, grunt or ‘Wassup’ substituting for a civil salutation.

To my surprise one of the greeters looked at me and asked, “Do you want me to get you a wheelchair?”

I was touched by the offer, but declined because lets face it, walking through the casino presented Miss Cathy with the most ‘exercise’ she’s had in months.
The bewildered look in his eyes said “your life would be a lot easier if you put her in the chair”.

I thanked him again as we toddled onward, walking arm and arm slowly but surely toward the sound of “faux coins” dropping and the whirling and spinning lights announcing another big win as if to say, “Hurry, this could be you, take a seat and claim your prize!”

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Casino Royale…Pain: Pt. l


Miss Cathy barely wants to go out anymore.

Not because she can’t, far from it, she’s just been isolating lately (and by ‘lately’ I mean the past couple of years).

Hey, I understand not being a social person, I’m pretty anti-social myself, preferring my solitude over the company of others usually (guess the apple falls from the tree to get away from the others) but I do make an effort at social intercourse and realize the value that being amongst my fellow man brings, physically and mentally.

But not mom, nope, she’s inside breathing the same air (did I mention she has an aversion to opening windows-“let’s the dust in”) and her only companions can be found on the television.

She cancels more hair salon appointments than she keeps (and those are only every six weeks) and she breaks promises to visit or go out with her girlfriend as a rule and not the exception.

I’ve written extensively about her refusal to go to a Senior Center, shopping, Community center, etc. so no need to bore you and infuriate myself by recounting any more of that here.

Maybe it’s a combination of illness, depression, inertia and the slowdown that affects most elders but in her case (not to generalize or speak to anyone else diagnosed with Alzheimer’s) it’s as if she’s taken the ‘living’ out of her life.

Suffice to say Miss Cathy is an island unto herself, the land mass is slowly sinking and being taken over by the seas of dementia.

And even though she doesn’t want to do much of anything related to leaving her condo the one thing she’s always ‘up’ for is a trip to the casino, specifically “Live” Casino which (conveniently) opened up a coupe years ago about twenty minutes drive down the Parkway from us.

She might (occasionally) forget to wipe herself but she never forgets that place.

Thankfully she doesn’t pester me to go play the fifty cent slots as often as she used to, like some junkie needing to score at a crack house.

So, I try help her scratch her gambling itch by ‘offering’ to take her every couple of months, a ‘reward as it were for here restraint.

And it’s an offer she’s yet to refuse.

#NothingLastsForever


Not their denial

Not their forgetfulness

Not their anger, nor your frustration

Not their confusion

Not their willful obstinacy

Not their incontinence

Not their inconsistency

Not their inability to recognize you

Not their malaise

Not their depression

So, remember this as you care for your loved one

Nothing lasts forever,

Not their smile
Not their laughter

Not their wisdom

Not their courage

Not your connection

Cherish the good,
Forgive the bad

What will last is the love

And that will live on…forever

A Caregiver’s Online Guide: TyTips Pt. lV


12) Don’t parent your parent the same way they parented you

Now that you have assumed responsible for the care and protection of your parent doesn’t mean it’s time for you to work out (or take out) any negative childhood grievances you may still harbor as to the way you were raised

“If” you feel you were mistreated in your childhood now is not the time for pay-back

Being a caregiver does not give you license to administer retribution for any transgressions that may have occurred

You have been entrusted as their caregiver-not judge/jury presiding over the past

Treat your loved one with the respect, love, consideration and care that you ‘wished’ you’d received or that you would hope to receive from YOUR loved one if/when (heaven forbid) you are stricken with the disease yourself

13) It’s not all about ‘them’, Carve out some ‘you’ time during the day

Take the focus off your loved one and putting it on yourself

We (as caregivers) have a tendency to make it all about our loved one 24/7 but it’s just as important to find time during the day to take care of yourself

Do something for yourself, even if it’s just for 1 hour a day; go to the gym, take a walk around the park or go to the mall for some retail thereapy, visit a church, temple or mosque to just sit, pray or meditate

14) Driving

As caregivers we are the people that are around our loved ones the most and we are best in a position to determine whether or not they should continue to drive

If you do not trust your judgment to be impartial (thinking you may be disloyal or fearful of your loved ones wrath), take your loved one to their geriatrician or primary care physician and let them decide if it’s still safe for your loved one to drive

Remember, if your loved one gets behind the wheel and has an accident, they could not only get lost, they could harm themselves and others as well (potentially fatally) and YOU may be legally held responsible for whatever occurs if you knowingly let your loved one drive knowing were a danger to themselves and others

15) Join a support group

Make sure that you have someone (or a group of people) that you can go to for help and support

Your loved one is not the appropriate person to turn to when you need to vent your frustrations or have a question regarding their care

Alz.org is great resource to find help wherever you live as well as community newspapers, newsletters, and blogs

To Be Continued: I welcome your comments or suggestions from your experiences

Happy Birthday?


“Happy Birthday Son!”

Miss Cathy said the words with love and affection as I walked into the living room on Saturday morning with the cup of coffee that she’d forgotten in the kitchen.

“Thank you”, I said, smiling down as I handed her the cup.

“That’s sweet of you to say except today’s not my birthday.”

“Todays the fourth isn’t it?”, she stated rather than asked, looking very self-righteous as any woman who was present at the birth would.

“Yes,” I replied, “today is the fourth.”

“And no mom”, I gently reminded her. “My birthday is on the eighth.”

“You’ll be fifty four?” she asked, alittle less sure of herself.

“Close”, I said,” fifty-five.”

We went round and round a couple times before she was convinced that I was right (which meant that she was wrong) and then there was a moment or two of silent recognition before the expression on here face seemed to say, ‘this is one more of those things that she was sure of that she’s not so sure of anymore’.

I sat next to her, not saying anything (after all, what is there to say really, in a moment like that? Personally I think it’s best just to be there but let her be).

We sat for a moment or two in silence while she’d collected herself and then she told me that she appreciated everything that I do for her (a much appreciated sentiment but an odd segue nonetheless).

She said she’d been meaning to tell me that my moving in to take care of her allows her to sleep peacefully at night in her own bed so she’s not afraid and that meant a lot.

Then she handed me a small stack of bills and said, “Here, I’ve got alittle present for you,”

The non-sequiturs just kept coming.

“Happy Birthday!” she said again.

I thanked her for the present and hugged her, not quite sure if she’d forgotten the conversation we’d just had about ‘when’ my actual day of birth was or if she was just acknowledging my birthday in general.

When your mother is convinced of the wrong date for your birth, not to be confused with being ‘wrong’ about the age of your child by a year (which is more or less understandable).

Hell, sometimes I forget how ‘old’ I am.

But, to not know with certainty something as fundamental as the day of the month to which you gave birth (to one of your two sons-it’s not like she’s Mrs. Duggar of “19 Kids & Counting fame) portends other ‘knowns’ to become ‘unknown’.

I just sat there, counting my money and smiling, thinking, there are so many things wrong with that exchange; suffice to say no more evidence should be needed as proof that Miss Cathy’s Alzheimer’s is advancing.