It's A Good Thing I'm A Girl Scout

So yesterday was Thursday, which is Ladies Night for me.  I gave Bompa his supper and I headed out to dinner with my BFF. Jim and the boys were home having their boy's night.  Bompa was all set up with his cold drink, and the tv tuned to baseball.  He was wearing his oxygen because he has a touch of pneumonia. Normally he wears it only at night, in bed.  I got home around 8:30pm and I went in to say hello. I asked "How are ya?"  And he replied, shaking his head, "I broke something."  I said "No worries, what did you break?" Now I'm looking for a broken mug, or hopefully not his new set of dentures.  He holds up his oxygen tubing, which he has apparently cut into several pieces.  I asked "why did you cut this, it has connectors, you can just pull the two pieces apart if you need to."  I'm thinking it got tangled up in his wheelchair wheels or  something.   Oh no...he was trying to "fix the grass sprayer for the backyard."  He cut up his oxygen tubing (for which I have no spare) to make a sprayer to spray the fertilizer he says is in his trash can. So it's a good thing I'm a Girl Scout because with the pieces of tubing and an extra nasal canula I put it all temporarily back together with electrical tape.  Then I told him not to worry about the lawn we'll take care of it on Saturday.  He says, "well make sure you don't lose those trash bags because everything we need for a nice green lawn is in there."  "Ok Bompa, I'm headed off to bed."  

Ok Chuck Norris...get out of Bompa's head!

Yesterday was an interesting day.  Bompa came into the kitchen and asked me what was going on in our community.  I said "nothing new, why?"  He said "well there's something going on.  My brother Bill (who is deceased) sold me a brand new car and the keys are missing.  They were right here on the radiator, but now they are gone."  I relied, "I haven't seen any keys and the last I knew you had given up driving."  He argued that he owns a car.  Jim walks in and Bompa says "I gotta talk to Jim."  Jim walks over to him and Bompa starts weaving his tale.  According to him, Jim's friends were all shot dead in our backyard and then put into the trunk of Bompa's "new car".  Then the car ended up in the water in New London.  Bompa is worried sick because the registration in the car is in his name and the killers might be able to trace it back to us because Jim's name is on it too.  Jim tries to tell him that everything is okay and his friends are all fine but Bompa won't have it.  I try again to tell him to trust me that there is nothing to worry about.  Bompa turns to Jim and says, "well there was anote with the keys that are now missing and it says not to trust anybody, especially your wife!"  Jim chuckled and headed to the shower.  I tried to go along with Bompa's story at least enough to say the registration was changed out of his name when we sold his car so it won't be traced back to us.  He seemed to calm down a little after that.  As I was making dinner it dawned on me...Bompa had fallen asleep with Walker Texas Ranger on TV, and the headphones on his head.   He must have been dreaming and hearing the dialogue the whole time.  From now on we're sticking to the game show network, cuz nobody gets shot in those shows!

Digging a Hole

Haven't posted in a while because the stories are so crazy I can't remember the details long enough to write them down.  Bompa's mind is going 100 mph and what comes out makes no sense at all.  The theme fr allof today's interactions has been digging a hole.  When I went in at 9 am to get him up and have his breakfast, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over the seat of the wheelchair, covering the seat with both hands.  He was also counting out loud...1 1000, 2 1000, 3 1000.  I asked him what he was doing and he said you need to dig a whole right here. I said "why do you need a hole right here in the seat of the wheelchair?" "I just do," he said.  I told him we needed to eat breakfast before we could dig any holes.  He went to the bathroom, and came out to eat.  He asked me how I was was.  I said, "I'm fine."  He asked how the bullet hole was healing. I said, "um I don't recall being shot so I guess it's fine?"  He told me he shot me in the shoulder and the bullet was gold plated so I should dig it out and melt it down and inside I would find the diamonds I wore on my wedding day.  I said, "ok, here, eat your banana."  Then I went to do the laundry.  When I checked on him later, he was asleep in his wheelchair but was bent over clearly digging a hole in his sleep.  I gently woke him and asked what he was doing.  He said, "I'm digging a hole."  I asked, "why?"  He said because the Dr told him to dig the hole.  I said, "well, why don't you take a break and watch tv for a while."  He said, "you better check my blood sugar, I've been working for a while now."  I said, "I think you'll be fine, especially if you have an ice cream."  He said, "oh boy, that sounds good."  So he had an ice cream and immediately fell back to sleep.  I wish there was some kind of rhyme or reason or pattern to the chaos in his mind.   But in the meantime, I'm just gonna hide the shovels.

Watch Out For Those Kids and Mow the Grass

Yesterday was a really rough day.  Bompa was angry that he is in "jail."  My heart breaks that he feels that way. I wish him swearing at me made him feel better because I will take it. But it doesn't.  The part of his brain that is lucid kicks on and off and when it's on he wants to go and do his own thing and is furious at me because he can't.  When it's off we have mornings like today.  He was in the bathroom and he had the door closed and the way his apartment is set up, he doesn't need to close it because no one can see in.  I told him it wasn't a good idea to close it because if he fell I wouldn't be able to get in because the wheelchair would be in the way.  He said, "well those kids were running around everywhere and I was naked so I needed to get dressed."  I said "what kids?" He said "those big kids that went on the trip with me."  He then proceeded to tell me about going somewhere very flat for as far as you could see.  A place where he could go in his wheelchair all over and not have to go up any hills.  I said "that sounds pretty cool."  He said "I had a good time, but I would rather go in the day time."  "Ok" I said.  Then he said" Oh and tell that bus driver not to let those kids off in my room next time because they run all around and mess with my wheelchair."  I said " ok I'll tell him."  He then proceeded to take a nap in his recliner.  About an hour or so later he comes into the kitchen and asks me to come into his bedroom because he wanted me to "take care of the grass that was growing under his bed."  I told him there wasn't any grass growing under his bed.  He said "the hell there isn't, it's long enough to mow."  I looked again.  I told him to look under because I didn't see anything.  He looks and says "I must be seeing things."  I said "you might be."   He shook his head and said "what's for lunch?

The Snow Plow

When I went in to get Bompa up this morning I noticed that his side table by his recliner had been moved across the room.  So after breakfast I asked him and he said..."Well last night I decided to take the snow plow up to Lillian's house in Colchester.  And as I was driving it out I saw that the back wheel was gonna catch on that end table. So I put it in park and got off and moved the end table across the room out of the way.  Then I hopped back on the plow and started out but the door was locked.  I tried to open it but it wouldn't budge so I parked the plow and went to bed."    I asked him if I could put the table back and he said "yeah go ahead because that plow isn't gonna fit through that door anyway!"

What Note?

    Last night at 10 pm Bompa asked me to help him take a shower (which I am happy to do but not at 10 pm on a Sunday without a really good reason), because he was sweaty from the baseball game he just finished pitching.  I asked "was a good game? and he said "it was a no hitter and that I scored the only run."  I kinda laughed at that and said "wow that was some dream you had."  He said he wasn't dreaming but I reminded him about the foot of snow still on the ground and he scratched his head and said "well I might have been dreaming."  Then he held out his hand to me and asked "did you read the note?"  I said "no I haven't read the note."  He said "well you have to fold it up like this and he made the motions, then you cut it into small pieces, but while you are cutting you have to put a $ 5 bill in your mouth and chew on it until it's good and wet.  Then you have to soak it in goats milk.  Then you get a cake pan or a pie plate and hold it under your chin while you pour the goat's milk onto your head.  Whatever runs down into the pan you have to drink. " I said "ok, but what does that have to do with the note?"  He says "what note?" 

"Caregiver"

So I have been thinking recently about the word "caregiver."  Caregiver makes me think of nursing home workers, aides, nurses, dr's, etc.   These are professional people who get paid to do this job.  What about family members who do it?  We don't get paid.  We do it because we love them. Over the years I've thought a lot about the cycle of life, how we raise our babies up to be adults. We feed them and clothe them and do for them what they can't do for themselves.  Then they go out into the world and do that too.  What is the opposite of raise in terms of what I have done for Gramma and what I'm doing now for Bompa?  It's like you get to a point in life where, although your age keeps going forward, what you can do goes backwards.  With our kids we are "parent" but what am I to Bompa.  Caregiver just seems so generalized, so minimal.  It's more like backwards parenting.  It should have it's own word.  A better word.  A word that describes the love, respect, hard work, weary mind and sad heart that go along with what we do all day for our loved ones.  A word that describes the strength it takes to watch the person who helped raise you and teach you about the world slowly forget all those things.  A word that describes the courage it takes to accept the huge responsibility of their care.  Someone I met online, who cares for Alzheimer's patients, uses the words "earth angel" .   I kinda like that one!  A long time ago, I picked a song that reminded me of my Gramma.  It was our favorite song.  It's "Wind Beneath My Wings" by Bette Midler.  I played it for her at my wedding, and I had it sung in church at her funeral.  It's funny how it seems to fit perfectly with being an earth angel.  My whole life, Gramma was getting me ready for these challenges just like her Gramma did for her.  Destiny?  Divine Plan?   Coincidence???  I don't know!  Just something I think about once in a while... 

He Told His Sister What???

So as is the norm in our crazy life, Sunday is chore day.  Grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning, cooking, and other various errands.  I try to head out and do the running around earlie rin the day and leave the cleaning and stuff for last so I'm all set for work on Monday.  Of course, this is also the day that Bompa's sister and brother in law decide to visit.  I am at walmart, and jim calls my cell  to say they are here and hurry home.  I am thinking to myself, omg the house is a mess and there are 6 baskets of wet laundry waiting to go through the dryer from the laundromat since our washer is broken, and I'm sure Bompa has fallen asleep in some random place in his wheelchair because he does that now.  He heads somewhere and falls asleep on the way, his teeth fall out, he slumps to the left and it's a little off putting to see him like that if you're not used to it.  Jim  tells me that he is telling his sister that he is in jail here and that I don't feed him or take him to the Dr or let him use the phone.  OMG, then he asks her if he can go to her house.  Jim is mortified!  I, on the other hand am thinking, uhhh the man has dementia and it's pretty obvious by his deeper conversations.  But everyday pleasantries he can fake it with the best of them.  I could tell that she was concerned.  And I was starting to think to myself, omg, she thinks what he is saying is true...until the last story he tells.  It's about a man who kills somebody and fights with the police and then goes to prison.  When she asks him who he is talking about he says Stan.  (Stan is their brother and has never to my knowledge committed any murders or done any prison time)  That was the moment I think that she realized he was a just a few fries short of a happy meal.  She said her goodbyes and I walked her out.   My close friends and family know everything that goes on daily, weekly, monthly... They know the stresses, the laughs, the love and the committment it takes to deal with this.  I can't imagine what a 10 minute visit snapshot must look like from the outside looking in. I wish I had time to worry about that, but I don't because there's so much more to do today. 

Good Morning Bompa

So a few weeks ago, I woke at 6 and went into Bompa's apartment to say good morning.  He was grumpy.  I asked him what was wrong and he said "You told me we were leaving at 5 AM to go to New York this morning."  I said "No I didn't".  "Oh yes you most certainly did!" he replied.  I tried to explain to him that the day before I told him that I had to take the boys to the Dr for their physicals at noon and that he was going to come with me.  He continued to argue.  I told him I was sorry but he wasn'tgoing to New York today because I had to work and the kids had dr appts.  He said "the hell I'm not, if you won't take me I'll find someone who will."  He then tried to make a phone call.  He hasn't dialed a phone in over 2 yrs, nor has he talked on the phone in over a year, despite the fact that he tells me who called him each day.  Well, let's just sya he got really pissed.  He put on his coat and hat, no shoes, but coat and hat and he tried to leave.  When Jim and I tried to calm him down he got even madder.  I got whacked with the cane, and Jiim had to sneak up behind him and "help" him into the wheel chair before he fell and hurt himself.  It was quite an exciting morning!  Thank goodness for Dr. Qureshi and anti psychotic medication!!!

Who the hell is Sylvia?

So for those of you keeping track, Bompa thinks he is going to be a millionaire and that he can buy Cape Cod.  But yesterday he added some more fun to the story.  Now, my Gramma passed away 2 years ago, from Alzheimer's.  My Grandfather met her when he was 12 years old and they got married when he was 17.  Last night he asked me where his wife and kids were.  I said, "What?"  He said "Where's Sylvia?"  I told him I didn't know who Sylvia was and that he was only married to Bessie.  He called ma a liar and told me if I read my mail I would know who Sylvia is.  Apparently she lives on the Cape (which is probably why he wants to buy it).  In fact, when we went away for vacation this weekend he told me to drop him off at the Cape and pick him up on the way back!   Personally, I enjoyed his last request better... He wanted me to call his special Canadian number, 343432, in the Village of Little Christmas Trees, and talk to the New York Stock Exchange about getting his million dollar check so he could buy the Cape.   Or maybe you'll like this one better...the other day he took me by the hands in some arms crossed secret code kind of way and told me he was turning all control over to me. I said Ok.  Then  he said that his brother Stan was in charge of the Universe and when Stan said it was OK, then Bompa would die and I would be in charge, because then I would be the President of the United States.  I'm gonna start carrying a tape recorder so I can keep it all straight!

Bompa I swear.....

Bompa, I swear to you that the war with Japan is over.
Bompa, I swear to you that Manchester CT did not buy Norwich CT and then move it to Wethersfield.
Bompa, I swear to you that it is 8:00 at night and you don't need to eat breakfast
Bompa, I swear to you that I didn't steal your paring knife, it's on the table where you left it.
Bompa, I swear to you that cousin Margaret did not become a New York resident and buy Cape Cod.
Bompa, I swear to you that I will listen to your stories, no matter how crazy.
Bompa, I swear to you that I will keep you safe and watch over you always!

You want me to do WHAT ?!?!

Last night Bompa asked me if I put all his clothes into a bag.  I said, "No."  He asked if I put all of our clothes into bags.  I said, "No, why, was I supposed to?"  He said that I needed to put all our clothes into bags and put them around the outside of the house.  I asked why and he said, "It was to stop the flood water from coming in."  I asked, "What flood water?"  He said,  "From the river."  I asked, "What river?"  He said,  "The one in Willimantic."  I said, "We're in Waterford and we don't live near a river."  He said, "That doesn't matter, when the glacier melts the river is going to flood our house all the way from Willimantic."  I said, "Well, I better get to bed and get a good nights sleep so I'll be ready tomorrow to fight that flood."  He said, "Sleep good!"

What do these things have in common?

So Bompa and I are sitting in the waiting room at Dr. DiFranscesca's office (foot Dr) yesterday afternoon for a 4:30 pm appointment.  There was a mix up the last time we were there and we are being seen by the partner today which doesn't really matter but I'm a detail person!  Anyway, while we are waiting Bompa starts talking to me rather loudly because he can't hear well so he figures nobody else can either.     Now the story he starts to tell ends up being about 10 minutes long and after about 30 seconds I can see that there is no need for me to try and remember the details because he won't remember them either.   So here are the people, places, and things that are all mentioned at some point and are apparently, in his mind, still related to one another.    The FBI, the war with Japan, the Willimantic Fire Dept, 500lbs of duck eggs (and he chuckles as he tells me about them), my sister Elizabeth, a fight between to politicians in Hebron CT, the Yankees, Steinbrenner, the Army Navy Game,  my sister-in-laws' inlaws, Dr Kelly the orthopedic surgeon, and lastly 500 baby ducks who hatched before anyone knew what to do with the eggs.  It really doesn't matter what the story was about because just listing the main ideas and people makes me start laughing. 
Oh and add to that the fact that I'm on his shit list because I didn't call the Red Sox on their dayoff yesterday and tell them to play baseball so Bompa could watch them last night.    And people wonder why I dye my hair hot pink??? It's so I look as crazy as I feel at the end of a very long day in the hell that is Alzheimer's!  Laughing really does help!

HUH ?????

"No Bompa, seriously I'm not the Asst Chief at the Eagleville Fire Dept! The president is not throwing me a party to celebrate my promotion.  And the Chief there is not the owner of the Christmas Tree Shop.   And just because she is the owner of the Christmas Tree Shop does not necessarily mean that she is married to Santa Claus."  Yes he was dead serious!  And then sadly he asked me if I knew where the bathroom was in his apartment because he couldn't remember! 

Keeping Bompa Busy

Bompa has a new hobby that keeps him busy all throughout the day.  Ice cubes!   He drinks crystal light iced tea all day everyday.  To keep his drinks from getting warm as he dozes he fills up his cup with ice cubes (that we make out of crystal light iced tea also so it won't water down his drink).  But he is obsessed with the ice cube trays.  They can never have any empty chambers.  So he is constantly taking cubes out and adding liquid to the trays.  He has some system that I haven't quite figured out.  He has one large "sippy" cup with a screw on lid and a straw, then some smaller cups.  He fills the small cup with ice cubes, then fills the big cup with cubes.  Then he adds liquid to the trays and puts them in the freezer.  He drinks from the big cup and leaves the cubes in the small cup to melt.  Then the next time he fills the big cup with ice he uses the liquid from the melted cubes in the small cup to fill the tray.  ??? I don't get it!  Then at night he takes both the big cup and the small cup into his room.  He opens the drawer on the bedside table just wide enough to set the two cups into the drawer.  Now, I have never seen him drink from the big no-spill cup during the night, just from the small cup which without fail he tips over into the drawer 5 out of 7 nights a week.  Now I have no problem at all with the mess he makes on the table, the floor, and the fridge as he is making his ice cubes, but my Gramma must be spinnin in her grave every time he dumps iced tea into the drawer of her Ethan Allen side table.  I'm gonna have to find a shallow pan to put in the drawer to contain the spills.   
      I must admit he is pretty inventive when it comes to problem solving.  I love to come around the corner to figure out what the banging noise is that I'm hearing only to find him chopping ice out of the ice cube tray with an 8 inch long butcher knife.  He uses the scissor tool on his swiss army knife to cut his licorice into smaller pieces, and the straw in his big cup doubles as a butter knife to spread peanut butter on crackers.  Gross!  I ask him why he didn't get a knife out of the drawer and he says aww this works just as good!   Okee Dokee Bompa!  I love ya!

Switching Uniforms

One night Bompa told me about how the Yankees and the Arizona team wrre going to switch uniforms and then play the game.  I asked him how they would know who won?  He said the Hebron Fire Department would oversee the game and decide who won. The thing that cracks me up is that he isn't even a Yankees fan, he is a Red Sox fan.

The Yankees and Judge Judy

This is one of the first stories that Bompa told me that made me wonder if something was going on.  I went into his apartment to check on him and I noticed that the Yankees game was on a rain delay.  I told him I would put on something else in the meantime and he started to tell me why the Yankees weren't playing.  Apparently, one of the Yankees players was in trouble and had to go to court. And Judge Judy was presiding over the case.  He went on to tell me that until Judge Judy said it was okay for this player to play, the game would be on hold.  He then went on to tell me how Judge Judy had called him to discuss the case and get his opinion on the matter. 

               Betty “Gramma” Griffin
             July 11, 1924 to 3-21-08

      “When she forgot…
                       We remembered for her !”

A Happy Memory

Lots of my stories are funny but some are very happy.  The last few years that my Gramma could still talk to us she never used our names because she couldn't remember them.  She knew a few words and phrases but couldn't really carry on a conversation. In the evening, I always got my Gramma ready for bed and I tucked her in every night the way she tucked me in when I was a kid.  Every night I would lean over and give her a kiss and say "Good Night Gramma".  She always said "Good Night", back to me.   Every night for about 2 years.  Then one night, out of the blue, her reply was "Good Night Chris."    That was one of the best nights ever.  It was also the last time she ever said my name.  Not long after that she stopped speaking all together.  But it didn't matter because you could tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she knew who we were.  

The Wake Incident

A man that my grandfather knew had passed away and we went to his wake.  Bompa is a Mason and the man was too so the local lodge did a little ceremony.  It takes about 15 minutes to do so after Gram and I paid our respects we went to sit down and wait for Bompa.  This was when Gram could still fake being ok.  She couldn't carry on a conversation but if someone said "Hi, how are you?", and she would respond "Fine thank you and how are you?".   So we are sitting there quietly waiting for the ceremony to be over.  They are having a moment of silence,  when out of the blue Gram says "Christ how long is this gonna take?"  That was the last wake we took Gram to.   From then on I waited in the car with Gramma and let Bompa go in by himself!