Answers...I want them

I, like the rest of the world,. have been immersed in the Boston Bombing. The loss of lives, the videos, the interviews. The horror for those people. The summaries of the lives lost...the photos, the interviews. Such a senseless loss.
Then the process of identifying the bombers blows thu the internet.
When their photos hit the facebook  posts, I knew it was a matter of time. This had to be the most publicized search ever. You just knew someone knew them.
And then late last night, I saw the killing of the MIT policeman and the hijacking of the Mercedes SUV. Something was coming, I thought to myself.

My mind is reeling right now. I have a headache that I don't know if it's self imposed.
I have been watching the news since 6:30 this morning.
I have so many questions.
What happened to these young men who were/are the bombers in the Boston Marathon? And I don't mean in the physical sense. That much is obvious.
The information on who they are.. one a med student and the other a wanna be USA Olympic boxer, such aspirations......what happened? What would make them plant those bombs? Were they paid to?
And then to continue from the bombing to point blank shooting and killing an officer? And then to let the owner of the SUV go at a gas station...why? (Does he realize how lucky he is?)
Did someone "get " to them? Influence them? How they are being described by friends and coaches is not conducive to what they did. It just makes no sense.
So now we have one brother shot and killed and the other on the run.
The police are searching each home, door to door. Can you imagine being held in lockdown and having the police scan thru your home? I can't help but think that the 19 year old that is in hiding must be deciding whether he is going to die or come out alive. His adored brother is dead, he must feel he has nothing to live for. And that scares me for the safety of the Police and Agents  going door to door. So volatile. This WILL play out, and waiting for it is stressful.

And then the mother in me feels for the mother of these boys. What a horror for her to live through. Her husband left for Russia because he is dying of a brain tumor. So she has lost her husband, one son and another son soon. Whatever comes of this,  If he should come out alive, he is lost to her anyway.
The interview with their uncle was so moving to me. You could feel his anger and disgust. And his love for living here. He did a wonderful job, considering his life was turned upside down less than 24 hours before.
It just goes to prove to you that life can flip on you in a minute.
All the speculation on the news and the internet....did the russian mafia wrap themselves around these boys?
My mind just wants answers. To try to make some sense of all this horror.
And it's not done yet.

Will we ever be able to look at another again without wondering what lies within?

You Have To Take The Stairs.....

You have to take the stairs.

What in the heck am I talking about, you say? Look at this picture. Don't you want to see where it leads? Have you no interest in what could be waiting for you?

Well, I learned this week that we all SHOULD take the stairs. No matter what we think we want or don't want. 

I thought these last 9 days were going to be brutal. And they were. At the beginning , I was not looking for that top stair. I was looking at the bottom stair and dreading to take the first step. Not knowing how I was going to make it.

Sometimes, we know what's ahead. 

Yeah, it was bad. But I knew that going in. What I didn't know was if I was going to look back at it all and come out a better person.

I know a lot of you lifted me up with good thoughts and praise, but I really did not deserve them.

Imagine being there for someone for 24 hours a day.

 Feeding them. Medicating them. Entertaining them. Taking care of their needs. 

But, in all this, they could not remember you doing so.

 And so, there was no intelligent conversation. Ever.

The childlike misbehaving, the desire to eat things they shouldn't, the lack of sleep schedule, the arguing over the smallest thing.( I found myself getting upset a lot. Nothing I am proud of, I assure you.)

And now imagine this to be your Father.

But in a real sense, this was/is not my Father. 

My Dad was easy going and fun to tease. Fun to be with. (Saw him get angry ONCE in my entire lifetime. ONCE.)

So to see this man behaving as he did, I had no patience for it.  I was not someone who deserved any of your praise.

 I admit, I was the one lacking.

And now that my time  to live with him temporarily is over...I see that I am standing at the top stair, ready to move forward. Never even realizing I was climbing the whole time. Standing at the top, a different person from before. 

I know Alzheimers. We were introduced years ago when my mother in law had it. Then my father in law. 

I joined a support group. I KNOW this disease. I just didn't know how I was going to live with it.....again.

As you may know, last year when my Dad's wife came home from her yearly Hawaii trip, two months later she was admitted to the hospital for emergency surgery..which resulted in her being away from her home and my Dad for the next three months. Living with Dad off and on, balancing our lives with the help of my brother and sister in law.  So we know this thing. We just don't want any part of it. Sad, but true. I have no patience for anyone who offers their advice...if I haven't gotten it/understand it by now, I will never get it~ And everyone is different...every person has their own degree of this disease. So please, don't tell me it's like living with a two year old. It's not. You CAN TEACH a two year old something. You can't with an Alzheimer's patient. You just can't. They are not capable of remembering.

So when I knew I was going to have to leave my own home and husband, and  go live with Dad and all that it entailed.....The top of the stairs seemed eons away.

And yet here I am. I made it.

So what am I trying to convey here?

That every difficult journey will scare the hell out of us in the beginning. But we WILL make it through.

We WILL climb those stairs. And we WILL be ready to move ahead. And hopefully, we will be changed in the process. Hopefully, we will come away a better person than when we went in.

 I am not proud of my impatience, my sense of hopelessness and my depression. But I learned. 

How to let go , choose battles and not stress so much.

 I also know there's another set of stairs, still ahead of me. But maybe, just maybe, those will be a little easier to climb next time if I remember I made it ....once before.

The 36 hour day

So here I sit, day 3 of an eight day stretch taking care of Dad.
The thing is, I know this disease. I know the ropes. I know why they call it the 36 hour day. I do.
And yet...I still try to reason with him. Why do I do that?
He was up twice last night making coffee...used almost 2 cups of half and half in the process. Made himself toast as well. And because this is a nightly ritual, I used ear plugs last night just to be able to get some sleep. If I don't get sleep, I can't take care of myself, much less him.
I woke up to toast remains in the garbage, that is how I know he had it. And his diabetes numbers are high. Try as I might, I can't get a handle on the numbers and I am lost.
He wanted a hamburger for lunch. I told him he had one the last two days in a row. I need to watch the white bread ( sugar) he ingests. He gets so angry with me insisting he has not had any hamburgers for forever! Then he goes into child mode and tells me he will not eat anything I make or get. He is mad at me for trying to protect him. I think I have to give up. I cannot handle diabetes and alzheimers together. Not without counting me as a casualty.
I do whatever I can...like getting him a skinny frappuccino instead of a cappuccino blast from Baskins and Robbins. No ice cream, less sugar I figure. But he can't remember having one and insists I go get him one at least twice a day. When I tell him his cup is in the trash as proof he had one, he gets angry.
I know this is not my Dad. I do. But when he is yelling at me, it's easy to forget.
He tells me to go home, that he can take care of himself. And then expects me to walk out the door.
Then he gets even angrier because I am hanging around. So he retreats to his room to call his wife. And he sounds  fine on the phone. He asks the same questions...where are you at, when are you coming home...etc. etc. But he sounds jovial.
Man, I wish I had THAT guy with me.
He wants to sleep a lot. Problem is, he sleeps for about 10-15 minute stretches and then wakes up. You would think that would cause him to sleep thru the night. Not so. He gets up and makes coffee an hour after he goes to bed. Then again in another hour or so. Then searches for whatever in the kitchen.
He is mad right now because there is no half and half. He used it all in two cups of coffee. But if I try to tell him that, he gets angry at me. So I just gotta stop. Stop trying to explain. Stop trying to justify to him.
And then when he tells his wife I am not taking care of him, I just have to let that go too.
This 36 hour day just might have turned into a 48 hour day.







would think that