Her bracelet

I'm not a fancy gold bracelet kinda gal.  I'm sure to scratch, get paint all over, or most likely lose it. But what's the point of keeping the good stuff tucked away in a drawer, or only bringing out her fancy china for company?  If I get a little paint on it, or a dish breaks while having a tea party with my daughter it'll have the wear and tear of real life and these are the joys I'd love to share with Peggy now.  So I try to enjoy the things we do have and  I wear her bracelet all the time now.  

 It always looked so pretty on her, and it still does.

Fancy jewelry and the good china

A very special tea party with Gidgey and Spots when she was  2.

Release Her

Peggy Lu, Peggy, Lois & the Universe

Happy Moments in Time

Gidgey lost her front tooth!  She looks so different and cute.  It's a big milestone in her life.  She's 7 and she never will be again.  We love her so much.  She is so goofy and jumpy and darling and smart. We took pictures and laughed.  She made a note to the tooth fairy and brushed her teeth, and now she can't pronounced f's or th's.  Looking at her makes me smile.  I wish my Mom was here.  I wish we could call her like we did her other grandparents.  I think to myself, "Nana would love this!"  These are her type of moments.

Of course, we can call her. She's here...alive. Yet she's completely unaware of anything new.  Life, for all intents and purposes, has stopped for her. She's missing these special moments that become our most precious memories and help us deal with the passage of time.  Soon a big new tooth will grow in the empty space and Gidget will be 8 years old. Then 9. And 10...

I haven't been able to share anything new with Peggy for years now. Knowing that she can't enjoy these simple things is what made me sad tonight as I gazed into that bright, shining, toothless face.  I can tell her about them and make believe that she somehow understands.  I guess it's just hard wishing someone was here, when they are.

Visiting?

So Peggy has calmed down a little, and so have I.  Every time we take another step down this ALZ staircase it takes an adjustment for her and for me.  I was talking to Ruby about what is happening and what exactly this stage entails.   I was upset that Peggy seemed very uncomfortable because of her swallowing and coughing, and she said with kindness.  "If it bothers you to visit, don't come as often."  She was worried about me and caregiver burn out, because she has seen it many times before.  But, that's not what  I was worried about, I was worried about Peggy.  I know this disease is just as hard on the caregiver, but Peggy is the one that is slowly dying. Whether it's for weeks or months or years. That's what it is now, dying, not living.  How can I NOT be there for her at this time?  We've made it this far together.  So, I visit, just as often or maybe even a little more because I have accepted where we are now, and if she's sleeping and doesn't know I was there, I do. 

Blow out the candles

I don't say this lightly, or because I'm tired, or don't want to continue to fight this disease.  I say this because I'm worried that she is suffering now.  One of the saving graces about Alzheimer's is that everyone tells you that "they"(the patient) don't know what's going on.  They are not suffering.  Her recent step into yet another end stage makes me feel that this is not the case.  She is now having trouble swallowing, and her brain is not telling her throat what is air and what is food.  So she chokes, a lot.  This makes her upset and red in the face and scared.  Which makes me upset and red in the face and scared.  She has a patch that helps reduce her saliva, yet it had to be reduced to half because it was making her agitated (what doesn't?).  What I'm trying to say, is this is not a peaceful death.  And that's why I wish the candles would quickly blow out in an instant and end another one of these "end stages."