Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Struggling with Dementia?
Most people can look in a phone book knowing what they are looking for with complete clarity. People with dementia cannot perform some simple daily tasks such as looking up a phone number without confusion and lack of understanding what they are doing or why.
http://www.dunnvillechronicle.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=2159665
http://www.dunnvillechronicle.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=2159665
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Removal of Plaque in Alzheimer's Brain
This week a breakthrough discovery by scientists from the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL, may lead to a new treatment for Alzheimer's Disease that actually removes amyloid plaques. Could this be the start of something new and possibly a cure for Alzheimer's? Check out the news here, http://www.alzheimersweekly.com/Research/backwards-bonus-il-6-removes-plaque-a615.html
Monday, October 12, 2009
Why not a cure Yet?
I'm putting this post up from my friend Mike, because he says it so well. I wondered last week when NASA drove a whatever into the moons surface to see if there was water. I thought, 'Why can't they put this money towards a cure for Alzheimer's?' And the Swine Flu, that's another story. Come up with a vaccine so fast it made my head spin. 'Why can't they do this for Alzheimer's?' If it all has to do with money, then we are in sad shape. I hate to believe that, but sometimes it looks this way. God help us. http://im-mike.blogspot.com/2009/10/right-now-care-is-inadequate-and.html
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Do You Care??
Does anyone really care? I just read this article and thought, do I care? Does my neighbor care? Do my friends care? Take a look at this article and let me know if you care. Thank you. http://www.alzheimersreadingroom.com/2009/09/alzheimers-does-anyone-really-care.html
Friday, August 14, 2009
Health care a Service or Industry?
I recently met a man on the computer. At first I thought he was putting me on, but soon found him to be truthful, intelligent and caring. I was a caregiver to my friend with Alzheimer's, and this gentleman was in the beginning throws of Alzheimer's, so we had something in common. Mike Donohue has read my book and speaks of it and health care. Industrialization has diminished service he says. His story is interesting, going from AA (Alcoholic Anonymous) to AD (Alzheimer's Disease), take a look.
http://www.dxjunction.com/users/MikeD/diagnoses/207-alzheimer-s/general_steps/539-health-care-a-service-or-an-industry-
http://www.dxjunction.com/users/MikeD/diagnoses/207-alzheimer-s/general_steps/539-health-care-a-service-or-an-industry-
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Dementia/Depression
Have you ever heard the statement: There is a fine line between Depression and Dementia? I heard it years ago and didn't believe it, but being an Alzheimer's Caregiver for fourteen years, I’ve changed my mind. I became the one forgetful. I became the one confused and disoriented. Was I to have Alzheimer's also? “No, just depression,” the doctor said. “You need to take care of yourself.”
At the time I was caring for my dear friend with Alzheimer’s thinking, I was taking care of my self. Little did I know Alzheimer’s was attacking both of us in different ways. My dear friend was fading into an abyss, walking away from me as though I were watching her through a windowpane getting smaller and smaller each day. I had become depressed, confused and fearful.
Most caregivers don’t take care of themselves. You are the giver of yourself to another. You should not require anything. However, this is not true, and found it out the hard way. I gave myself until there was nothing left. I got sick, became unable to care for my friend, and had to put her in a nursing home.
My caregivng job changed. I then had to watch workers who cared for my friend, plus my friend. The nursing home nightmares, I call it. I write of this in, “Just a Word” friends encounter Alzheimer’s. I think people don’t realize that the caregiver’s job isn’t over because a loved one goes into a nursing home. It just becomes more intensified.
There is nothing greater anyone can do, than to give up his/her life for a friend, family member, or other, but please caregivers turn to your churches, synagogues, community centers, neighbors, family, friends, anyone who will listen, and tell them what you feel. Sometimes just talking to someone will lessen your burden.
Being a caregiver will teach you more of your self, than you ever thought was there. You will learn of the true SELF.
At the time I was caring for my dear friend with Alzheimer’s thinking, I was taking care of my self. Little did I know Alzheimer’s was attacking both of us in different ways. My dear friend was fading into an abyss, walking away from me as though I were watching her through a windowpane getting smaller and smaller each day. I had become depressed, confused and fearful.
Most caregivers don’t take care of themselves. You are the giver of yourself to another. You should not require anything. However, this is not true, and found it out the hard way. I gave myself until there was nothing left. I got sick, became unable to care for my friend, and had to put her in a nursing home.
My caregivng job changed. I then had to watch workers who cared for my friend, plus my friend. The nursing home nightmares, I call it. I write of this in, “Just a Word” friends encounter Alzheimer’s. I think people don’t realize that the caregiver’s job isn’t over because a loved one goes into a nursing home. It just becomes more intensified.
There is nothing greater anyone can do, than to give up his/her life for a friend, family member, or other, but please caregivers turn to your churches, synagogues, community centers, neighbors, family, friends, anyone who will listen, and tell them what you feel. Sometimes just talking to someone will lessen your burden.
Being a caregiver will teach you more of your self, than you ever thought was there. You will learn of the true SELF.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Connected
My newest book "Connected" is out.
As a caregiver full of despair and loneliness, Rose Lamatt enters a chat room on the Internet for the first time. She finds a different world than the one she's used to. Night after night, she signs into the same chat room, meeting people who listen to her, people who are passionate, loving, and at times just as depressed as she is. At times she lives her life through these online friends. They save her from the everyday trials of caregiving. They are there each night keeping her connected to someone, something, not feeling alone and empty. For more than ten years, Rose shares a friendship with these souls, living their hopes and dreams, sharing their heartaches and happiness. Support from these friends, inspired Rose to write this story. This could be called a memoir, all but for one thing.
As a caregiver full of despair and loneliness, Rose Lamatt enters a chat room on the Internet for the first time. She finds a different world than the one she's used to. Night after night, she signs into the same chat room, meeting people who listen to her, people who are passionate, loving, and at times just as depressed as she is. At times she lives her life through these online friends. They save her from the everyday trials of caregiving. They are there each night keeping her connected to someone, something, not feeling alone and empty. For more than ten years, Rose shares a friendship with these souls, living their hopes and dreams, sharing their heartaches and happiness. Support from these friends, inspired Rose to write this story. This could be called a memoir, all but for one thing.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Caregiver Heros?
June 26, 2009
I read something the other day saying all caregivers were ‘hero’s’. I don't know about 'hero' but I have written my story, 'Just a Word' friends encounter Alzheimer's. A story of friendship, and going that extra mile for the life of a friend. I was caregiver for fourteen years: four at home, and ten in a nursing home. Anyone who thinks when one gets put in a nursing home the duties of the caregiver are over, is very mistaken. That's when caregiving becomes different. That's when you need to watch over the people who are caring for your loved one. So now you are not only making sure your loved one is cleaned, dressed and fed, but now you are making sure she/he is not being abused in anyway, by mouth, or by hand.
My way of coping was through prayer. Praying my friend would be sleeping at night instead of pacing the halls of a nursing home the way she did at home. Praying my friend was fed, and why was she losing so much weight? Praying mostly that she was not hurt, like the time she fell and broke her hip and they x-rayed the wrong hip. Sometime we need to go through the unbelievable to see the truth on the other side, to become stronger and fearless.
My story, 'Just a Word' is mostly of nursing home caregiving, things to watch out for, things to keep your ears open to. 'Hero'? I guess in a sense all caregivers are. Watching over a husband, wife, parent, sister, brother, or friend, there really is no difference.
I read something the other day saying all caregivers were ‘hero’s’. I don't know about 'hero' but I have written my story, 'Just a Word' friends encounter Alzheimer's. A story of friendship, and going that extra mile for the life of a friend. I was caregiver for fourteen years: four at home, and ten in a nursing home. Anyone who thinks when one gets put in a nursing home the duties of the caregiver are over, is very mistaken. That's when caregiving becomes different. That's when you need to watch over the people who are caring for your loved one. So now you are not only making sure your loved one is cleaned, dressed and fed, but now you are making sure she/he is not being abused in anyway, by mouth, or by hand.
My way of coping was through prayer. Praying my friend would be sleeping at night instead of pacing the halls of a nursing home the way she did at home. Praying my friend was fed, and why was she losing so much weight? Praying mostly that she was not hurt, like the time she fell and broke her hip and they x-rayed the wrong hip. Sometime we need to go through the unbelievable to see the truth on the other side, to become stronger and fearless.
My story, 'Just a Word' is mostly of nursing home caregiving, things to watch out for, things to keep your ears open to. 'Hero'? I guess in a sense all caregivers are. Watching over a husband, wife, parent, sister, brother, or friend, there really is no difference.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Something I learned
March 27, 2009
Well, I’m learning blogs, twitters and other ways to communicate. Never thought I’d learn a different language, a shorter one, but I’m trying and won’t give up.
I had lunch the other day at a Florida retirement center. Two women with dementia sat on either side of me. I had to think hard what to say. I didn’t want to upset or make them feel uncomfortable. I remembered my friend Carol, who had Alzheimer’s, how upset she’d be come when asked questions. She’d stammer, and grab at words that didn’t pertain to the conversation. Then, upset, she’d wring her hands and wind up in the bathroom crying, because she couldn’t hold a conversation. As her caregiver, she taught me something. I learned Alzheimer’s talk.
I sat at this table with six women, two with Alzheimer’s. No one spoke at first; I guess fear of not knowing what to say. I broke the silence. “So what does everyone think of the economy?” I said. Two women shook their heads. “Do you think we need to plant a ‘Victory Garden’? I asked. “Remember them?” The woman on my right with dementia said yes, she did remember the gardens. She had one. I asked her what she grew. She stammered a bit, but soon was telling me and others, she grew tomatoes, string beans and corn that fed her family through the year. She went back in time and remembered. Calm, I could see the changed look on her face, not the one of fear I saw in the beginning of our talk. We reminisced of living up North: New Jersey, New York, and Ohio.
There were some repetitive questions and answers from the ‘two’, but also from others, including me.
So what did I learn this day? The day reinforced in me, that we are all the same, all one, just different at certain times. And, how much our past becomes our present.
Well, I’m learning blogs, twitters and other ways to communicate. Never thought I’d learn a different language, a shorter one, but I’m trying and won’t give up.
I had lunch the other day at a Florida retirement center. Two women with dementia sat on either side of me. I had to think hard what to say. I didn’t want to upset or make them feel uncomfortable. I remembered my friend Carol, who had Alzheimer’s, how upset she’d be come when asked questions. She’d stammer, and grab at words that didn’t pertain to the conversation. Then, upset, she’d wring her hands and wind up in the bathroom crying, because she couldn’t hold a conversation. As her caregiver, she taught me something. I learned Alzheimer’s talk.
I sat at this table with six women, two with Alzheimer’s. No one spoke at first; I guess fear of not knowing what to say. I broke the silence. “So what does everyone think of the economy?” I said. Two women shook their heads. “Do you think we need to plant a ‘Victory Garden’? I asked. “Remember them?” The woman on my right with dementia said yes, she did remember the gardens. She had one. I asked her what she grew. She stammered a bit, but soon was telling me and others, she grew tomatoes, string beans and corn that fed her family through the year. She went back in time and remembered. Calm, I could see the changed look on her face, not the one of fear I saw in the beginning of our talk. We reminisced of living up North: New Jersey, New York, and Ohio.
There were some repetitive questions and answers from the ‘two’, but also from others, including me.
So what did I learn this day? The day reinforced in me, that we are all the same, all one, just different at certain times. And, how much our past becomes our present.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Showering my Alzheimer's Friend
I was told in a web post that it was easy to give a shower to an Alzheimer's victim. I needless to say blew a gasket. Why? Because I was a caregiver. This person said to put the patients feet in a foot bath first so they could get used to water. I thought, "Ha, not with my friend I cared for." She was over six feet tall, I'm five and a half. Below is a excerpt from "Just a Word" Friends encounter Alzheimer's, a book I wrote on giving an Alzheimer's victim a shower. People think it's easy until it happens to them, then they find out different. I just want the word out, Caregiving is one of the hardest jobs out there, paid or not paid. I wasn't paid. I did it for the love of my friend.
Thank you for reading, now please spread the word so we can get rid of the word Alzheimer's.
Rose Lamatt
This morning, October 18, 1994, she’s gotten the new rug and her pajamas soaked. She stood with legs apart and peed before I could take her to the bathroom.
“C’mon, Ca, time for a shower,” I say.
It’s a battle keeping her clean, not smelling of urine or other odors. One woman in the support group takes her husband outside in summer and washes him off with the garden hose. What I learn each day with the progression of this disease brings me back to when I was a child at times. Except then, we called them hose fights.
I undress her and coax her into the shower with me—another tip learned from the group. Fear is on her face but not the uncontrollable kind that I’ve come to know. I take the showerhead hose and spray myself.
“Oh—it feels soooo good. See, Ca. There’s nothing to it.” I sprinkle my feet then hers. “Doesn’t the water feel nice?”
She steps back. I hope she’s not going to be difficult today and reach for her hand as I did days ago. I spray her feet and legs, work up to her private areas, keeping the water away from her face. She slaps at me trying to push me. I used to wash her head at the kitchen sink when she could no longer go to the hairdresser. Those were easy days.
I’ve been putting off head washing for days now. Her hair is greasy. I know it needs to be washed today, before another week goes by. It’s already three weeks. I spray her head, she pushes me hard against the glass doors. I give up.
“Okay, that’s it. You’re done.” But before I get the words out of my mouth she’s on a run through the living room, naked, wet, growling like a mad animal. How can this person be the one I knew so well?
Drying off, I want to spend the rest of the day here, in the bathroom. I want to fade into the walls and not be here or anywhere. I’ve lost her and nothing means anything. There are no dreams of future golf games to look forward to anymore.
Getting dressed, I pray she’s calmed down. I grab towels, cookies, and head to her room. I find her talking to her friend in the mirror. She’s calm. I understand why. The friend in the mirror isn’t a threat. I am.
Thank you for reading, now please spread the word so we can get rid of the word Alzheimer's.
Rose Lamatt
This morning, October 18, 1994, she’s gotten the new rug and her pajamas soaked. She stood with legs apart and peed before I could take her to the bathroom.
“C’mon, Ca, time for a shower,” I say.
It’s a battle keeping her clean, not smelling of urine or other odors. One woman in the support group takes her husband outside in summer and washes him off with the garden hose. What I learn each day with the progression of this disease brings me back to when I was a child at times. Except then, we called them hose fights.
I undress her and coax her into the shower with me—another tip learned from the group. Fear is on her face but not the uncontrollable kind that I’ve come to know. I take the showerhead hose and spray myself.
“Oh—it feels soooo good. See, Ca. There’s nothing to it.” I sprinkle my feet then hers. “Doesn’t the water feel nice?”
She steps back. I hope she’s not going to be difficult today and reach for her hand as I did days ago. I spray her feet and legs, work up to her private areas, keeping the water away from her face. She slaps at me trying to push me. I used to wash her head at the kitchen sink when she could no longer go to the hairdresser. Those were easy days.
I’ve been putting off head washing for days now. Her hair is greasy. I know it needs to be washed today, before another week goes by. It’s already three weeks. I spray her head, she pushes me hard against the glass doors. I give up.
“Okay, that’s it. You’re done.” But before I get the words out of my mouth she’s on a run through the living room, naked, wet, growling like a mad animal. How can this person be the one I knew so well?
Drying off, I want to spend the rest of the day here, in the bathroom. I want to fade into the walls and not be here or anywhere. I’ve lost her and nothing means anything. There are no dreams of future golf games to look forward to anymore.
Getting dressed, I pray she’s calmed down. I grab towels, cookies, and head to her room. I find her talking to her friend in the mirror. She’s calm. I understand why. The friend in the mirror isn’t a threat. I am.
Monday, March 2, 2009
This Welcome is late
I have, in my latter years, become totally engrossed in writing and reading. I actually hated it when I was in grade school…..was even held back a year because I couldn’t read. So what has happened to me now? Am I subconsciously trying to prove my teacher wrong? Now I LOVE to read and write, whenever I sit behind a computer keyboard, words just come spilling out of me.
What a marvelous thing, the written word. Books (others and my own) have become my best friends. There are so many beautiful things in the world for us to see. So many feelings we have inside of us to share with the world. What a joy to be able to write of those things—share them with others.
Everyone has a story lurking down inside them, somewhere. I wish they all would try to express it…..write it down for all of us to see. Perhaps this web site and my books may inspire you to do so. If so, I will feel I have accomplished a wonderful purpose in life.
Share your thoughts with me. I would love to hear from you.
What a marvelous thing, the written word. Books (others and my own) have become my best friends. There are so many beautiful things in the world for us to see. So many feelings we have inside of us to share with the world. What a joy to be able to write of those things—share them with others.
Everyone has a story lurking down inside them, somewhere. I wish they all would try to express it…..write it down for all of us to see. Perhaps this web site and my books may inspire you to do so. If so, I will feel I have accomplished a wonderful purpose in life.
Share your thoughts with me. I would love to hear from you.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A different day
Taken from my second book, "Just a Word" friends encounter Alzheimer's.
Today is the first day I've had the desire to write. I've thought about it for months, even years, but this is the first time I feel the need. I want to write of the struggle she's going through with this horrific disease; the everyday living. I want to write how the caregiver loses herself along with the victim. Victim--first time I've used that word. But there is no other word that best describes it. She's a victim of time.
I've lost any thought that she'll get better. I've come to the conclusion I'm living alone, even though she's with me in body. She doesn't talk to me in understandable conversation. We play charades to discover what she wants.I've stopped all walks and exercise. My agoraphobia is back or has it just been hiding? I don't want to go to the store because I'm alone, even though she's at my side. I hate life, eating fatty foods, hoping to have a heart attack and die. Then I won't have to face her dying in front of me, inch by inch.
Today is the first day I've had the desire to write. I've thought about it for months, even years, but this is the first time I feel the need. I want to write of the struggle she's going through with this horrific disease; the everyday living. I want to write how the caregiver loses herself along with the victim. Victim--first time I've used that word. But there is no other word that best describes it. She's a victim of time.
I've lost any thought that she'll get better. I've come to the conclusion I'm living alone, even though she's with me in body. She doesn't talk to me in understandable conversation. We play charades to discover what she wants.I've stopped all walks and exercise. My agoraphobia is back or has it just been hiding? I don't want to go to the store because I'm alone, even though she's at my side. I hate life, eating fatty foods, hoping to have a heart attack and die. Then I won't have to face her dying in front of me, inch by inch.
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