Throughout the years, I never remember my parents' house without bird feeders in the yard. They loved the birds. Mom bought bird books so she could identify all of the birds in her yard. They bought special seed to attract less common birds. They not only had one bird feeder, but at least three that they filled on a daily basis.

           Here's an excerpt from Chapter One of Alzheimer's Daughter, an account of my parents' last day living independently in their own home.


            "Back at home Ibby waved to her neighbors as they drove to work. On Orchard Lane, their dead-end street, everyone knew everyone. She struggled straightening her stooped spine to pour cracked corn and sunflower seeds into her bird feeder and slowly hobbled to survey her bleak fall yard. She lingered, marveling at the glistening, frozen dew encapsulating late-fall rosebuds. Frost soaked Ibby’s cloth shoes. 

Shivers hastened her back into the warm house. She passed through the cluttered kitchen looking for a snack, peeking in the refrigerator packed with leftovers. Some were edible, others spoiled, but Ibby couldn’t tell the difference.

She looked forward to the lunch and dinner she and Ed would eat at the local restaurant as they had nearly every day for the past six months.

Before Ibby settled in on the couch to wait for Ed she heated a cup of tea in the microwave. The stovetop was piled too high with pots and pans, as well as canned and boxed food, to use the teapot. She idled time away watching cardinals, blue jays and yellow finches flitting on the feeder outside the picture window, whistling to mimic their chirps."

Filling her feeders and mimicking the chirps of her beloved birds were some of Mom last actions in her own home.

Whenever I see birds, especially cardinals, thoughts of Mom and Dad visit me.

Is this the meaning of heaven? Is this eternity——the idea that we are remembered in the minds of those who loved us? Is that how our spirit goes on?

I thank God that I have pleasant memories of my parents. They taught me that life was about more than living in the moment. They taught me about loving others, being kind, loving nature, and seeking the truths of life.  

 

In church this morning the sermon referenced pruning the grape vines to increase the harvest. 

It's a beautiful day here in Ohio and I knew I was coming home to do yard work. Pruning shrubs was on my list. 

My minister is a gardener, so she talked about using levels of tools for pruning depending on the job. We use hand pruners for small jobs, loppers for larger jobs, but sometimes we need the chainsaw. If we're in a hurry, we zip-zop with electric hedge trimmers. 

I don't own electric hedge trimmers. I don't like to hurry with my yard work and I don't want my shrubs to look like identical gumdrops. Instead I prune with hand pruners. I like the bush to take its own shape as it makes new growth.

The minister said we need to do pruning in our personal lives too. God doesn't use electric hedge trimmers to make us all the same. We have individual experiences which shape us as we make new growth.

My parents' journey through Alzheimer's shaped and pruned me. In the aftermath of Mom and Dad's deaths, I reflect on the lessons they taught me and I'm so thankful for them. Sharing my story through Alzheimer's Daughter has allowed me to compassionately connect with others. As caregivers, we all share the same story of trying to do what is right for those we love.

Every passage in our lives prunes us in some way, teaches us, shapes us as individuals to make new growth. 

As I worked outside today, I pondered the sermon and snapped the above picture. I'd still be outside if I hadn't developed a big blister from pruning. Any day I can work outside in beautiful weather long enough to develop a blister is a fabulous day. 

Hoping your day was wonderful as well.

Jean

When I was a girl our yard became a field of yellow in May.

I remember walking gingerly in bare feet strategically placing each foot in a space with no honeybees. You could actually hear what sounded like the grass buzzing from all the bees.

I was allergic to honeybees. I remember telling Mom and Dad that I could live without honey if only there were no bees. They explained that we needed honeybees to make everything grow.

Now we see few dandelions and few honeybees. We believe a lush green lawn is the norm.

How different our way of life is now. We don't adapt to what nature gives us. We try to alter nature. 

Mom said, "God gave us so many dandelions. They must be a cure for something. We just don't know what, yet."

She thought maybe dandelions could cancer. But wouldn't it be wonderful if the bright, beautiful dandelion could cure Alzheimer's? 

Farmers at Heart

May 1st. 
The date gives us hope.
We realize that even after a very long, cold winter, summer will come!

My parents, Ed and Ibby, loved to garden. 
Mom was a farm girl. Dad was raised on property with an apple orchard which he tended as a young boy. 

My parents were most comfortable wearing old summer shorts and short sleeves, kneeling in the garden, planting or weeding. 

During the May rototilling they looked forward to August suppers of sweet corn, tomatoes, and green beans with a little bacon for flavor. 

In fact, as harvest time approached, the garden was Dad's first stop when he came home from work. He'd slip off his dress shoes in the garage and slide his feet into mud covered, grassy garden shoes that had lost their laces years before. Then he'd walk out to check on how the corn was tasseling and press his thumb firmly into red tomatoes to see if they were ripe enough for a dimple to be left behind. Those, he'd bring in for supper, even before he changed from his dress shirt and tie. 

In October Mom and Dad put the garden to bed by piling leaves atop in anticipation of enriched soil for the next growing season.

May 1st makes me long for the gushing first bite of one of Ed and Ibby's bright red, sun-warmed, garden tomatoes. None better. 

I plant about six every year because I love tomatoes, but mine never measure up to theirs.

Blogging is difficult for me. 

When I began this blog I posted excerpts of chapters of Alzheimer's Daughter, which was then a work in progress. Beyond that, coming up with blogposts was time consuming. I wanted to spend my time writing my book, not blogging. Sometimes a great blog topic would come to me and I'd even begin a draft blogpost, but by the time I returned to the draft the central idea had faded.

Most of those blogposts were prompted by an image, often old family photos or more recent photos I'd taken.

Even though I was frustrated by blogging, I found I loved Twitter. 

Twitter allows me to connect with like-minded people all over the world who write or share an interest in Alzheimer's or dementia.

The problem with Twitter is that each tweet is limited to 140 characters, including spaces and punctuation. Most of the time, I want to say more.

Another downside to Twitter is that the feed zips by so fast with mostly text, hashtags, @s, and links.

So Twitter was too short and blogging required too much length, but I hit the jackpot when I recently found an app called Canva (free from Canva.com). Look it up. Try it out. Using Canva, I can add text, overlays, and special effects to my own pictures. These pictures are colorful in a Twitter feed, standing out from the plain text and links of most tweets.

As I tweet pictures created using Canva, I find there is always a little more I want to say to explain the picture. 

My tweets are always Alzheimer's related, so I'm going to try posting them on this blog too, with just a little more explanation.

This picture of the dense layer of fog reminds me that Mom and Dad often seemed to be foggy in the early stages of the disease. They just couldn't quite retrieve the word they wanted to use, or they couldn't stick with a concept long enough to complete a task. 

The movie, Still Alice, conveyed this idea well. When Alice was lost, whether it was in a familiar place, or lost in a task, the camera blurred. It matched what I imagined my parents must have felt.

I'm tinged with fear whenever I can't recall a word. I haven't resorted to replacing the lost word with "thing-a-ma-jig" or "what-ja-ma-call-it" yet. I guess when I do that, I'll really worry.

If you love Twitter too, follow me at JeanLee18. If you haven't yet given it a try, join and observe for a while, then send me your first tweet.

Publication of Alzheimer's Daughter

After four years of writing, proofing, revising, querying, happy moments, and nervous stomach aches, Alzheimer's Daughter was published on January 16, 2015, the day that would have been my parents' 71st wedding anniversary. 

I began writing Alzheimer's Daughter shortly after my mom died. Dad lived another year. I kept writing, trying to find resolution. The words on the page became my daily connecting point with my parents. Through my words I felt as though I was able to explain to Mom and Dad what happened to them, as well as the actions my sister and I had to take to keep them safe. 

I am the kind of person who reads for support. I read to learn. So, during the path of my parents' disease, I searched for books to help. I found many about the medical science and theories of prevention of Alzheimer's through lifestyle and diet, but there were few personal accounts. 

As soon as I'd find a book that looked good, I'd devour it and search Amazon for another using the key word 'Alzheimer's,' looking hundreds of books deep. Many were negative in tone with longstanding strife between elderly parents and adult children, and even greater disagreement between siblings trying to share the caregiving role. I know there are plenty of negatives to this disease, and in Alzheimer's Daughter I write about those challenges honestly, but I needed positives to keep me afloat. So, I wrote Alzheimer's Daughter, combining love with honesty. I wrote what would have helped me. 

I've been asked if writing brought peace. I'd like to say yes, but it really didn't. The entire time I wrote I struggled because I felt guilt. Alzheimer's is a private disease. It's hard to talk about.

Right up until the actual moment of pushing the 'publish' button, I felt anguish because I didn't know if I had the right to tell this story. 

Peace has come to me through reactions to the book and reviews.

Readers write: 

     "There are smiles and tears in this tale of ultimate love, that which sees this family through a myriad of very hard choices. This book is worth reading, worth saving, and worth consulting if the unfortunate need arises. There are many books written about Alzheimer's. This one opens the door and let's us in."

     "This book offers a deeply personal glimpse into the life of a family battling Alzheimer’s, from its earliest stages – the odd forgetfulness, the tiny mistakes – to diagnosis, to denial, to the debate about safety, and managing simple daily life, to dignity, to end of life decisions, all told in a thoughtful, useful manner to guide others through this same process.

     Alzheimer’s Daughter is a book that will bring knowledge and solace to those grappling with this illness."   

     "Lee’s familiar Alzheimer’s memoir format is elevated to a classic love story by the revelation of Ed and Ibby Church’s extraordinary courtship and marriage. World War II lovebirds, the couple’s timeless love letters are shared at the beginning of each chapter, written during their separation while Ed served in the Army. This touching correspondence adds a romantic element to keep the couple’s devotion, for each other and their family, central to their inevitable fate.

     The dual diagnoses and deterioration, while difficult for Rosie and Annette to manage as caregivers, turns out to be the final blessing bestowed upon Ed and Ibby for a life well lived. The elderly couple’s oblivion to their plight helps them fade away together hand in hand, with neither forced to endure the other’s incapacity.

      Alzheimer’s Daughter is a beautifully written tribute to the extraordinary love and lives of the author’s parents. The story offers a map on how to maneuver through the pitfalls of dementia care while honoring our parents with dignity and love through faith. The memoir reveals a modern day path many others will travel as dementia snowballs into an epidemic as baby boomers age. The journey of Alzheimer’s Daughter leads the reader through a tragic but rewarding love story with heart, like a true version of The Notebook."

If I hadn't written Alzheimer's Daughter I would have only shared small parts of this story in hushed tones with those also on this journey. Instead, by releasing the story, I hope it will help others search for light in the darkness, sunshine through the clouds of Alzheimer's.

Wishing peace and calm for those with whom I share a caregiving brotherhood and sisterhood.

Jean