I pray you never have to deal with dementia

In whatever form it manifests itself, dementia is callous.

Whether it be the inability to find the correct words to convey what one is thinking or the inability to recognize loved ones, the ability to converse with people who aren't really there or the loss of memory, dementia takes its toll on not only the person it afflicts, but also family and friends of the person. 

Perhaps the most well known of the dementia diseases is Alzheimer's disease. Celebrities such as Rita Hayworth, Ronald Reagan, Charlton Heston, Glen Campbell, Burgess Meredith, Perry Como, and Eddie Albert were among the millions who have suffered from Alzheimer's.

Although Alzheimer's disease usually is top of mind when "dementia" is mentioned, there are many other forms of dementia. For instance, an autopsy revealed that Robin Williams was in the advanced stages of Lewy body dementia at the time of his death by suicide in 2014, according to information on the Lewy Body Dementia Association website (https://www.lbda.org/blog/robin-williams-and-lewy-body-dementia-2/).

Actor Bruce Willis has been diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia, according to a family statement published on the Association for Frontotemporal Degeneration website (https://www.theaftd.org/mnlstatement23/ Feb. 16, 2023).

About seven years ago, my Mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease (the same disease that actor Michael J. Fox has). We had noticed that her hands shook while reading the newspaper, so much so that I could hear the pages rattling from across the room. She also was having trouble sleeping, partly because her legs shook in bed. 

Mom's primary physician at the time referred her to a neurologist, who made the Parkinson's diagnosis and prescribed medication to help lessen the tremors. After the initial couple of visits, Mom had to see the neurologist every six months. While there, she had to take a scored one-page cognitive test, an eyes and limbs movement test, and a walking test. 

Initially, Dad and I split doctor duty. He took Mom to appointments with her primary physician and I took Mom to her appointments with the neurologist. During the first several years, Mom's scores on the cognitive tests were fairly close. 

Several years ago, however, her score took a nose dive and her neurologist prescribed medication that could slow the progression of the dementia. During that time, Mom's mobility also decreased and she was forced to use a walker, something she absolutely hated. She tried her best to not have to use the walker, moving around the house by holding on to furniture or the walls. I never knew for sure whether, because of her dementia, she didn't understand why it was safer for her to use the walker or she just didn't want to and was being stubborn. (Stubborn runs in the family and I inherited it from both sides!)

After a while, however, Mom decided to quit taking the dementia-slowing medication as it made her light-headed and dizzy. The neurologist said it was her decision, and we moved on knowing that her cognitive abilities would decline more rapidly than they had been.

She still asked me daily what day it was, though those questions rapidly increased to multiple times in the same day. Some days she had trouble remembering or understanding what I had just said to her, while other days we could chat as we had for years. 

The past few years, Mom increasingly made notes about almost anything. For instance, if I had gone to pick up supper while we were watching a baseball or football game, she would make notes of who scored while I was gone so she could tell me about it when I returned. If there was something on the news that piqued her interest, she would make a note about it. 

Her cognitive decline really began to take a turn for the worse while Dad was recovering from cancer surgery in the fall of 2022. My normally chatty Mom did little more than sit by Dad when I would take her to see him while he was rehabbing. At the time, I thought that, perhaps, the whole situation was too overwhelming for her.

After the ICU nurse called the night Dad died a few months later, I woke up Mom to tell her. She said "Oh my," cried for a couple of minutes, and then went back to sleep.

Shortly after Dad died, Mom developed an affection for one of our dog's stuffed toys, a stuffed baby deer. Now Jorgie's toy wasn't really a dog toy. It was made for a child, but Jorgie was my child, thus he got the baby deer. Jorgie loved that baby deer and didn't understand why his Grandma kept taking it away from him. She finally put it on the back of the couch behind her where Jorgie couldn't get to it.  

Later in the year, for the first time in my life, Mom forgot my birthday. That was tough, though I knew she forgot because of the dementia. The day after my birthday, she had an inkling and asked when my birthday was. 

Last fall, when I had to have Jorgie put down because of kidney disease, I came home from the vet's office with nothing but his collar and tags. Mom asked if Jorgie was staying at the vet's for a few days. I told her, while tears streamed down my face, that Jorgie was dead and wouldn't be coming back home. I sat across the room from Mom, ugly crying for what seemed an eternity while she stared blankly at me for a couple of minutes and then went back to her book.

The neurologist later told me that sometimes people with dementia lose the ability to express emotions and to empathize with others. (That also explained her reaction when I told her Dad had died.)

Shortly after Jorgie died, Mom began placing the baby deer next to her on the couch and petting it. At night, the baby dear sat on the back of the couch. Each night, as she got up to go to bed, she would pet the baby deer and tell it "goodnight."

By far, the worst moment, however, was when Mom looked me in the eye and asked, "Where's Leslie?" I knew I couldn't react the way I felt inside, so in the calmest voice I could muster I said, "Mom, I am Leslie." She cocked her head a bit and looked at me, and then she said, "well, you are," and went back to reading her book. Thank goodness that only happened once. 

Fortunately for Mom and I, she never developed the ability to see and converse with people who really weren't there.  That is a condition that also sometimes afflicts persons with Parkinson's and dementia. 

Through it all, I tried to remember what a friend whose father had Parkinson's once told me: that instead of trying to correct Parkinson's patients for their inability to comprehend what we know to be real, it is better and less upsetting to them to just be present in their version of reality.

I think I did that. At least I tried to do so. Despite the challenges posed by the Parkinson's and dementia, I tried to make Mom's final years happy ones. 

I hope she saw them that way.

Looking at dangerous hurricanes from the safety of Kansas

I can't even begin to imagine what the people of the Florida peninsula are going through right now.

How scary to be facing potentially one of the most powerful and deadly hurricanes to hit the west coast of Florida. Not only that, but Milton is so strong that it also is expected to strike the west coast of Florida as a hurricane and exit the east coast of Florida as a hurricane.

Milton is predicted to be the second hurricane to have its name retired in as many weeks. That's what happens when a hurricane is incredibly deadly or costly.

Folks were still cleaning up from Hurricane Helene, which roared ashore further north on the Florida coast on September 26, when they had to turn their attention to preparing for Milton. While crews frantically work to remove debris from Hurricane Helene, they are not expected to get all of it before Milton hits. The debris that remains will become deadly projectiles being flung about by the strong winds and storm surge.

Forecasters believe Milton will make landfall somewhere between Tampa Bay and Fort Myers late tonight or early tomorrow morning. 

I have several friends living along the west coast of Florida in the area of Milton's predicted landfall. I pray that they remain safe.

In Kansas, we have the threat of tornadoes and storm-related flooding. That is scary enough. What we don't have is sustained winds in the 145-165 mph range, wind gusts in the 175 mph range and storm surge of 10-15 feet of sea water. The storm surge is so deadly that several days ago, Tampa Mayor Jane Castor warned people in the evacuation zones to leave or "you're going to die."

What an ominous warning. I can't even imagine.

Remembering a good man, my Uncle

My Mom dearly loved her "baby" brother, Jere. 

Her face would light up whenever he called and she eagerly anticipated those times when they got to be together.

As of yesterday, they are together once again. I imagine she was waiting for him with a big smile on her face, ready to give him a big hug.

Mom and Uncle Jere when they were kids.

I tell you this not to gain your sympathy. I would prefer that you direct your thoughts and prayers toward my two cousins who lost their Dad. I can relate to what they might be going through, though it is all new to them.

Rather, I want you to know what sort of person my Uncle Jere was. He was a good man, the type of person you would want as a relative.

After my Dad died last year, Uncle Jere stepped in, checking on me occasionally and providing fatherly advice. Those who know me well know that I might have bristled at that, after all, I am fiercely independent. But coming from Uncle Jere, it was okay. I knew he cared.

He loved to text me photos of family, which, of course, I would share with Mom. I got to know a couple of generations of cousins, many of whom I had never met, thanks to those texts.

Uncle Jere also had a great sense of humor and liked to tease those around him. Like Mom, he had a keen sense for finding the funny in situations. I loved listening to him when he was telling a story about someone because I knew, at some point, there would be something funny.

He also was ornery. According to Mom, a great deal of his orneriness in his youth was directed at my Grandmother. It apparently was great fun to hear her shriek at his hijinks!

Despite his ornery streak, Uncle Jere cared deeply about his family. While I am missing him terribly, I take comfort in the fact that he is with Mom once again.

Taking a musical break from the news

I decided to take a break from watching news this afternoon, and I couldn't be happier with the channel I found.

Don't worry! I'm still a dyed-in-the-wool newsie. (More on that a bit later.) For a good part of this afternoon, I have been enjoying the Music Choice Yacht Rock channel on Cox. According to the info about the channel, I am "feeling the vacation vibes with a light mix of soft rock, pop rock, R&B, and smooth jazz from the '70s and '80s."

As I was writing this, Peter Brown was singing Dance With Me. I've also heard America's Sister Golden Hair, Earth, Wind & Fire's After the Love Has Gone, Starbuck's Moonlight Feels Right, Gerry Rafferty's Baker Street, and a couple from Christopher Cross, including Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do).

Other artists I've heard from include Fleetwood Mac, Dave Mason, Ambrosia, Billy Joel, Jackson Browne, Peter Frampton, Bread, The Pointer Sisters, Carly Simon, Little River Band, Steely Dan, Kool and The Gang, Player, and Hamilton, Joe Frank, & Reynolds.

I am usually skeptical of listening to a decades-specific channel or station as I usually hear a number of songs I haven't heard of or don't care for, but Yacht Rock is making my soul happy!

As for being a newsie, I image I always will be. News has been a part of my life since I was a child. Back in the dark ages, the Salina Journal ran a multi-chapter Christmas story for kids. I started reading that as a grade schooler. From there, I branched out to reading Cuff Stuff and some of the shorter stories in the Journal.

By sixth grade, I was hooked and convinced our teacher to let us do a class newspaper. The "newspaper" was one of the bulletin boards in the classroom on which we could put stories and pictures. I don't remember it lasting an entire year, but it was fun for a while.

In eighth grade, I signed up for the journalism class, and continued to do so each year once I got into high school.

My senior year, I was one of three high school seniors selected to write a column for the Salina Journal. The Journal selected one journalism student from each of the three high schools in town, and we were the first group. (I think the program only lasted a few years.) We were paid $15 per column to write about what was happening at our school. We alternated weeks, so my column appeared every three weeks.

I even had fans (besides my parents). I worked at Dairy Queen and had developed a friendly rapport with an older couple who were regulars. Once my first column, complete with headshot, appeared, they came in and waited for me to be free to wait on them. I smiled and asked them what I could make for them. They both got big grins on their faces and said, "we know who you are!" They were my groupies for as long as I wrote the column!

In college, after flirting with a couple of different degree options, I settled down and completed a Communications-Journalism degree. My first job out of college was working in the composing room at the Hays Daily News. It wasn't because I wasn't qualified to be a reporter. I was just having too much fun in college and didn't decide to pursue a job in the "real world" until it was too late and all of the reporting openings were filled.

I bided my time until a reporting job opened at HDN. I did that for a few years and then was promoted to assistant news editor. But all good things must come to an end, or so I thought. Because of some personnel issues, working at HDN became unbearable, and had me questioning whether I wanted to stay in journalism. 

I started looking for other work opportunities at which I could use my God-given talent for writing, and ended up with a PR position at Emporia State. Those were fun times!

After doing more PR and marketing, and a little executive directoring at other places, I went back to my first love - journalism - and ran a local news website for several years. 

Now I'm retired, but still greatly miss writing, thus I subject you all to this blog on a now more regular basis.

Remembering 9/11

Twenty-three years.

It hardly seems that it has been that long since the events of September 11, 2001, shocked the world, changing it forever.

"The 9/11 attacks killed 2,977 people. This was the single largest loss of life resulting from a foreign attack on American soil. The attacks caused the deaths of 441 first responders, the greatest loss of emergency responders on a single day in American history," according to information on the 9/11 Memorial & Museum website (911memorial.org).

In the days since, a number of first responders and others have died as a result of breathing in the dust generated by the towers' collapse.

A timeline of the attacks as provided by the 9/11 Memorial & Museum (911memorial.org):

8:46 a.m. Eastern: Hijackers crash American Airlines Flight 11 into floors 93-99 of the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City. Seventy-six passengers, 11 crew members and hundreds inside the North Tower were killed instantly. The crash also trapped hundreds of people above the 91st floor.

9:03 a.m. Eastern: Hijackers crash United Airlines Flight 175 into floors 77-85 of the South Tower of the World Trade Center. Fifty-one passengers, nine crew members, and a number of people inside the building were killed instantly. The crash also trapped a number of people located above the impact zone and inside elevators.

9:37 a.m. Eastern: Hijackers crash American Airlines Flight 77 into the Pentagon in Arlington, Va. Fifty-three passengers and six crew members were killed. Additionally, 125 military and civilian personnel on the ground were killed in the crash and the fire that followed.

9:59 a.m. Eastern: The South Tower, which had been burning for 56 minutes, collapses in 10 seconds, killing more than 800 civilians and first responders inside the building and in the surrounding area.

10:03 a.m. Eastern: Hijackers crash United Airlines Flight 93 in a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Thirty-three passengers and seven crew members were killed. Hijackers were flying the plane toward Washington, D.C., however a number of passengers and crew members forced the hijackers to crash the plane near Shanksville.

10:15 a.m. Eastern: A section of the Pentagon's west-facing outer ring collapses.

10:28 a.m. Eastern: The North Tower of the World Trade Center collapses after burning for 102 minutes, killing hundreds of additional people.

5:20 p.m. Eastern: 7 World Trade Center, a 47-story building, collapses after burning for hours.

If you are unable to visit the 9/11 Memorial & Museum in New York City, I encourage you to visit the organization's website (911memorial.org) or follow the organization on Facebook (facebook.com/911memorial).

It is important that we remember September 11, 2001, where we were, what we felt, and how we came together as a nation. 

After running a errand, I had just gotten to work at Emporia State. Some of my coworkers were watching TV in the conference room next to my office. I popped in to see what they were watching and found out the North Tower had been struck by a plane. A short time later, I stared in horror as the South Tower was struck.

Nothing like this had ever happened in the United States. The attacks of 9/11 prompted a myriad of feelings and reactions from the United States citizenry. Among them, shock, horror, disbelief, and anger. The attacks showed us and the world that the United States was not invulnerable to attacks by extremist groups. Eventually, many of those feelings were channeled into a united patriotism.

A decade or so after the attacks, I and a group of coworkers at another workplace were remembering and discussing the events of 9/11. Another colleague happened by and began pontificating that all of the vows to always remember were hollow and worthless. We couldn't, he claimed, remember 9/11 because we weren't there.

Those comments were such BS. I don't know whether he actually believed what he was saying or he was just trying to provoke us. Either way, I lost a great deal of respect for him that day.

While it is true that we were not physically in or near any of the sites that were attacked, we were able to see what had happened in those locations thanks to numerous journalists and photographers. Thanks to video gathered by journalists, we were able to see the towers being struck. We also saw their collapse. We saw wreckage at the Pentagon and in Pennsylvania. What we saw stirred a multitude of emotions.

One of the more haunting images from that day, at least for me, was Falling Man. Associated Press photographer Richard Drew captured the image of a man falling headfirst from the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

In a story marking the 20th anniversary of 9/11 and republished last year by the Associated Press (https://apnews.com/article/entertainment-health-talk-shows-newspapers-bc2d6b72e8733f2065ee8979ce2ef9c2), Drew wrote, "I was below the north tower that morning, on the corner of West and Vesey streets. The smoke was so thick, it was tough to see and tougher to breathe. Rubble was falling, and when I heard the first of a series of loud cracks, I thought it was the sound of concrete debris striking the ground. But I was wrong. It was the sound of human beings hitting the pavement."

Drew noted that he focused on one person falling from the North Tower, shooting eight frames. That person became known as Falling Man.

While Drew shot a number of photos that day, Falling Man is probably his most well known photo. While he got a number of compelling shots on 9/11, Drew also battled Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome because of his 9/11 work to capture moments in history for the rest of us.

In the 20th anniversary story, Drew contrasts his Falling Man photo with photos he shot when Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1968. It is an interesting read and I encourage you to do so.

Drew's work, and the work of many other journalists, help us to remember the events and aftermath of 9/11.

We do remember and we will remember.

I'm doing OK

Over the past two weeks, numerous people have asked me how I am doing. My response has typically been, "I'm doing OK."

It's difficult for me to believe that two weeks have passed since Mom's funeral. The past 14 days have been a blur. The spontaneous tears still hit on occasion, though not as frequently.

I am mourning the death of my mother, though truth be told, I began the grieving process months ago when dementia really took ahold of Mom. While physically, she was still my mother, mentally she was not Mom. I desperately wanted my Mom back, knowing full well that it would never happen. 

I tried to heed the advice of a good friend whose father had, like Mom, battled Parkinson's and the dementia that comes with it. He told me that the best thing to do was to be present in the world of the person with dementia. I tried, and I hope that my efforts in some way made Mom's journey easier and happier.

Within the last year, Mom found a new activity that brought her joy: coloring. Late last fall, I found one of my Christmas coloring books and began coloring. (I've always enjoyed coloring, and took particular delight when coloring for adults became a thing several years go.)

Mom asked what I was doing, and I told her, "coloring." Her response: "Well I want to color, too!" 

Now keep in mind, I had gotten Mom several Victorian/Edwardian coloring books back when the adult coloring craze was all the rage. She loved Victorian dresses and decor. At the time, Mom shrugged them off, but I dug them out last fall and set her up with her own tray of color pencils and a sharpener.

She had a blast!

Initially, Mom tried to copy the colors of the Victorian dresses on the cover of the coloring book. Eventually, however, she decided for herself what colors to use on the dresses. Her color choices were exquisite. In that small way, she was keeping her brain active. (She also read a lot.)

The most surprising thing, however, was that despite her hands shaking from the Parkinson's, she stayed within the lines and did a really good job! I made a point of checking on her coloring progress and complimenting her on her work. 

There were times when I would catch her staring off into space and I would ask, "Mom did you ever finish that picture you were coloring?" More often than not, she would reply, "I was just getting ready to do that" and she would get her coloring book and pencils out.

After Mom died last month, I lamented that I had never felt so alone, as my core family was gone. While that is true, Mom's death has heightened my awareness of a new family: family members and those friends with whom I am close who I have chosen to be a part of my family. 

This new core family in what is becoming my new normal has truly been a blessing. They regularly check in to see how I am doing. Sometimes it is a call. Sometimes a text. Sometimes it is a quick chat in the yard. They give me the space to grieve, but they also provide support and love. 

So how am I doing? I am OK and I will be fine, thanks to my family and friends. Some day, I might even color again!

Turning a deaf ear to removal requests

Exciting news! Apparently the Miracle-Ear Center in Salina is now servicing the dead. 

I have asked them multiple times to remove my father's contact information from their mailing list as he has been dead since early last year.

Today, a piece of mail addressed to Dad arrived. It started with "You have received this invitation today because you best represent the segment of the population which is most likely to experience hearing loss and tinnitus - ringing and other sounds in the ears."

OK. I can see how Dad's segment of the population is most likely to experience hearing loss. Not sure about the tinnitus, though. Might just be from the bugs, worms, and other critters in the ground.

I will have to take this piece of mail out to the cemetery tomorrow. I know Dad will be so excited to find out that he will be able to hear once again. 

What on God's green Earth is wrong with companies that don't honor removal requests?

Do they just not care? Are they incompetent? Or are they lazy?

Do they think that constant bombardment of survivors with mail for a deceased person is going to prompt the survivors to purchase something? I guarantee that this survivor will not.

As for Dad, I think it might be a bit difficult for him to make it to the "FREE Video Otoscope Exam" and "FREE Hearing Evaluation."

You know, Miracle-Ear folk, if you'd quit wasting money mailing offers to dead people, you might not need to charge as much as you do for your products. Consider that FREE Advice!