33: games & classes &OFS

02-15-05
mayatime 12.19.11.18.14 11 Ix 17 Pax

I haven’t written about my dad for a while. Not much has changed. I’ve been trying to see my dad a few times a week when I can. He likes to play Solitaire. Originally we were playing on the computer, but he had a hard time seeing some of the moves. Like if there was a red ten by itself, and two columns over there was a black nine with a red eight and a black seven, he couldn’t see the black nine well enough to recognize the move.

Solitaire, which most know as a solitary game (hence the name) is a family affair with me and my parents (and once, after a lovely turkey dinner, my husband).
And we still can’t beat the damn computer. My father, even pre-Alzheimer’s, could not understand how to use the mouse.
“Double click it, dad.”
“Okay.”
Click. Long pause. Click.
“No, quick. Click-click.”
Click. Click.
“No, clickclick really fast!” Click. Click.
Even with the setting turned to most sensitive to long delays between clicks, he could not click fast enough.

I think he’s forgotten the mouse exists. He did not know I was moving the cards. He’d say “hurry up before he takes it away” (he=the guy inside the computer).If I clicked on a wrong card, the guy (a recorded voice, you understand) said funny things like “you can’t click there” “not the foundation cards” “you can’t do anything with the foundation cards” and best of all, “don’t you know the rules?”

Because I am a smart-ass, I liked to click on the wrong cards to make the computer guy “angry.” My father thought a real person was scolding me and wants to know where he lives so he can go beat the guy up.

I found a pack of real cards (wow what a rarity) and we started playing on the kitchen table. My mom doesn’t allow me to cheat. I think I should cheat so my dad can win once in a while. He gets angry when we lose all the time.

He also gets angry when he can’t see the move. Basically I flip the cards until I see a move, and then I say “there’s two moves” or however many I see. He ALWAYS sees the aces. Sometimes no matter what, he doesn’t see the move. When we show him, he gets really angry, swearing at himself and beating himself in the head. It’s very upsetting. I try to tell him the game is supposed to be FUN, not something to beat yourself up over. Whenever I leave there after playing Solitaire with him I cry all the way home.

Sometimes I have to go home the long way.

My mom introduced me to an addicting game on AOL and I found out it’s accessible through their web site. I have an AOL account; I don’t know if you have to have one to get to it.It’s called Jewel Quest. Basically it’s a lot like Bejeweled 2, which I play on MSN, but it’s got more of a plot. And it’s got Aztec imagery. I will play any game with Aztec imagery!(I LOVE LOVE LOVE Zuma).

For personal news, I was recently accepted as an initiate into the Order of the Feathered Serpent. It’s a 3-year program of shamanism, healing & self-improvement. My first “lesson” came yesterday-a fat book full of rituals to learn. Yippee!

My classes in Web Design started last night. I’m taking 3 this semester-HTML, Web Design & Photoshop. It’s really a one semester certification, but I didn’t want to take so many classes back-to-back like that, and one’s on Saturday interfering with my workshops.This one, the HTML one, is pretty easy so far. But I also have to take some classes in Flash animation and VB programming.Luckily my husband’s already been through the VB classes for his degree so he can help me and he has the books already too.

Mudras & Healing Techniques for Alzheimer's

Please go to my web site for them, they are simply too complex to post here (too many graphics & links, which is too much of a pain in the ass to do through blogspot)


ObsidianButterfly.com

32 loss of pronouns, lack of water,

01-11-2005

Maytime: 2 Cauac

I’ve been redesigning www.Obsidianbutterfly.com—the had a dad section will be next. I sent not one but TWO books off to publishers (yay) and both acknowledged receipt so the waiting begins (again, on one of them, as I sent the book to them last January and they never answered any of my follow-ups until NOVEMBER when they admitted they didn’t have the ms. (Nice, huh?) So I stayed angry for a month and then re-sent it.

My dad has refused to do the mudras and exercises I mentioned. That makes me sad, but it’s his choice. I have gotten permission from the person who gave them to me to post them here. Maybe they can help someone else.

The new thing I’ve noticed about my father is that he’s mixing up his pronouns. He might say “they called” when he means “she called” –actually pretty much I think “they/their” has become his only pronoun. I’ll have to pay attention when I see him this weekend.

I read a book about water which said that chronic dehydration can cause and worsen Alzheimer’s. All my dad drinks, ever, is Classic Coke. Not diet, not decaffeinated, not Pepsi (he will drink Pepsi in restaurants if we tell him it’s Classic Coke). I gave up drinking soda last month and I hardly miss it. But I don’t know how I’d get my dad to stop drinking it.

On the one hand, it’s like when my great-grandpa (maternal grandpa’s father) was dying of emphysema when I was 11. He wanted to have a cigar. The family figured, he’s dying already, give him his damn cigar. My father’s losing all pleasure in life, why make him give up his favorite drink? On the other hand, what if drinking adequate water really could help his mind? Isn’t that worth giving up the soda? I am going to see my mother later today. I wasn’t planning on seeing her so I haven’t got the water book with me. I can only wonder how bad he would be if he WASN’T on the medicine. And then I know I’m just whining again, so many people have parents and spouses who are so much worse than my dad. But this is my world, my pain.

31 Thanksgiving, wiper blades, xmas eve, mudras

12-25-2004 Mayatime 12.19.11.16.2 11 Ik 5 Kankin

It’s been a long time since I wrote, I know. I’ve been busy working on my novels and trying to get my non-fiction book published.

It’s been six months since the aliens stole my father’s brain and probably a month since I wrote about him. I’ve seen him during that time, of course, but just never had the time to write about him.

At Thanksgiving he was quiet. None of his usual blathering about raspberries or any of his other favorite topics. My mom’s observed that he doesn’t talk and eat, he just eats. And wow, does he eat. He eats very slowly, and cuts up his food ridiculously small (dissects it really) and just doesn’t stop until he’s done–which is when he eats his salad and then drinks the salad dressing (ugh. Salad dressing is SO GROSS)–why he doesn’t eat the salad FIRST I don’t know. Then he has his dessert, which everyone else is finished with. He cuts his food so much that he can’t eat off a paper or Styrofoam plate anymore. My grandmother has to give him a "real" plate because he was scratching the table and food juice/sauce would go everywhere.

After the turkey-day meal, he went downstairs to do something and everyone left. We were outside talking; my sister-in-law was giving me a gift to give to my best friend for her baby and my father comes running out, all upset that everyone was leaving without saying goodbye. But we didn’t know where he was!

About a month ago, I had to go to a party at Mountainside for work. That was the first real snow we had, and the place is aptly named-you have to go up (up-up-up the stairs and then...the tunnel...)(sorry, couldn’t resist) a hill and then drive along a narrow residential road with a steep drop on one side, all in ice and snow, sliding even in 4-wheel drive. (It’s really a summer resort, but I’ve only been there in the winter, and it’s always a lousy night.) My whole car was covered with ice. I had to crawl in through the passenger door (in a dress!), and I had no ice scraper, so I sat in the car with all the defrosters on full blast waiting for it to melt enough that I could use wiper fluid. I destroyed my wiper blades, which weren’t in good condition anyway. It took me 45 minutes to creep home on these snowy icy roads. (Mountainside is near where I used to work, about 10 minutes away on good roads.) I stopped at an auto-parts store and bought a set of winter wiper blades. I asked my husband to put them on for me. He never did.

I drove around with these blades in my car for THREE weeks, and meanwhile whenever I used my wipers pieces of rubber were curling off. So I thought, maybe my dad, who sold cars for over 30 years, knows how to put on wiper blades. I stopped at the store where he "works" and he came out and looked at the blades and couldn’t figure them out. I looked at the directions which called for a screwdriver so I borrowed one, but it was a bolt-type screw and no way to hold the other end so the whole thing turned. Pretty useless. The guy my dad "works" for suggested I take the blades to the Texaco station. I know Mr Porto, he pumps my gas, and he might put the blades on, but it was bitter cold out and I didn’t even buy the blades from him. I decided to go back to where I bought them. I brought the blades in and said "I want to return these." If they had asked, I would have explained that my husband is too busy playing World of Warcraft and my father’s brain has been stolen by aliens and I have no one to put them on for me. They didn’t ask, just gave me my money back. So I still have no wiper blades.

When I got home, my dad called me ("Hi, it’s Bob") and wanted to know if Porto’s put the blades on. I explained that I returned them. He got all bent out of shape, yelling that he was going to walk over there (it’s only a few doors away) and kill Mr Porto, who is about 75 years old and has arthritis. I told him Mr Porto had nothing to do with it. "Why wouldn’t he put them on for you if he sold them to you?" "He didn’t sell them to me. He pumps my gas, that’s all." "Well I’m going to go over there and say something to him." "Why? He has nothing to do with this. I bought the blades from the auto parts store" (Which is in between where he "works" and the Texaco station Mr Porto owns.) "Why wouldn’t they put them on?" "Because they don’t do that, they’re a retail store." "So Meriden Hyundai wouldn’t put them on either?" Number 1: I did not purchase my Pathfinder from Meriden Hyundai, where Dad used to work. Number 2: I did not purchase the wiper blades from Meriden Hyundai. Number 3: Why would a Hyundai dealer stock wiper blades for a Nissan anyway? Try to explain all this to a guy who has Alzheimer’s. "No, dad, I didn’t even go there." "Why not?" I explained points 1-3, to no avail. "Just go up there and they’ll put them on for you." "I don’t have them anymore, Dad, I returned them and got my money back. Don’t worry about it." And so on. Finally, still grumbling about Mr Porto, he hung up. I called my mom to apologize. As soon as I hung up the phone rang again. He didn’t say hi or identify himself, in fact I think he was already talking. More of the same. Funny, really, if it hadn’t been so sad.

My mom told me about a going-out-to-eat incident where she nearly strangled him. He was driving, and they went to Applebee’s, which was crowded. Instead of finding out how long the wait was, he refused to stop the car and drove away. He decided to go to Wendy’s instead (how one goes from Applebee’s food to Wendy’s is incredible. I’d go to Chili’s, which is across the street from Applebee’s.) There was no one in the Wendy’s parking lot so he decided it was closed and drove away. My mom convinced him to stop at the new place across from McDonald’s. They went inside and the menu was too much for him, too much variety, he couldn’t decide, so they ended up going home.

Yesterday for Xmas Eve the 4 of us (me, Will, mom, dad) went to 99 Restaurant (which we always called "99 House" for some reason–was it ever called that?). It was the usual. "What do I like? Have I tried this?" and he wanted cocktail shrimp, which the 99 doesn’t sell, they have coconut shrimp. He thought they could make some for him without the coconut and was very upset that my mom wouldn’t even let him ask.

I recently joined a new Yahoo group: and the man who runs it, DK, is from India. He has uploaded all sorts of articles and mudras and wanted to know what people were interested in. I told him about my dad and he was excited (which isn’t the usual reaction)–he has been looking for an Alzheimer’s person with a Reiki connection. He has given me 2 mudras for my dad (both VERY EASY) and a list of things to do to help my dad.

Yesterday over lunch I taught him the first mudra, and we all did it–it’s for memory. Today I am going to teach him the 2nd one and also put up some signs around the house.

Merry Christmas-Yule-Kwanza-Chanukah-whatever everyone! And happy new year in case I don’t write this week.

30 NaNoWriMo, vet, phone orders, is there a good way to die?

11-15-04 Mayatime: 12.19.11.14.2 10 Ik 5 Cen
I hit 50K on NaNo Friday afternoon. So technically, I'm done, I could stop writing (and I did, all weekend).
But I won't, I'll be back to it today, on this lovely 10 Ik day, so good for lots of communication.
Just a few dad-related things.
2 weeks ago I had to bring my birds to the vet. I have six. I had already brought four of them, but the two that were left are the worse. Lance hates the car, he has epilepsy and has terrible convulsions, he screams bloody murder while he's being worked on...it's very stressful (both of his kids have epilepsy also, but someone they don't freak me out as much as he does).
So I figured I'd ask my dad to help. And he was supposed to mow the lawn first. He mowed part of the lawn only (I wanted to get ALL the leaves chewed up. Oh well).
He had a great time coming with me. I put the birds in a plastic aquarium (vented top) and he held them on his lap and talked to them all the way there (it's a 20 minute ride or so). Gwennie really liked him. She was bouncing and dancing and whistling to him. She likes men; she was raised by a man and speaks in a man's deep gravelly voice. She does this funny thing when she's in the clear box, she puts her foot up and tries to climb onto the hand that's holding the box. (But when she's not in the box, she won't get on your hand. Go figure.)
My dad thought she was Lance, and he kept saying "He remembers me!" so I stopped explaining that it was actually Gwennie who was playing with him, and Gwennie never lived at Dad's house. (In case you didn't get it, their names are Lancelot and Gwenivere). In the vet's office, Gwennie kept running to my father and trying to climb him. At one point she was on his Red Sox hat, hooting and thinking she was safe. He must remind her of the guy who raised her.
That Sunday, he said he had some kind of problem with an order he'd placed over the phone. (Just the thought of my dad placing a phone order is scary.) He said they didn't send him something he ordered, and took the extra money and put it toward a subscription to something he didn't want instead. So that Monday I went over at 3 p.m. to look at the order and call.
Sure enough, he said he ordered 2 of everything, and one thing he only got one of. And he did get a brochure with it, but I didn't think he got charged $6 for it, it was the kind of ad you stick in with an order. The line on the invoice that was freaking him out was the name of a magazine and "shipping."
I deduced that the vendor probably charges different rates for each magazine's ad OR that shipping charge code is how he tracks which magazine the customer saw the ad in. But I called anyway, about the missing item.
The guy says my father never ordered it. My father, of course, is showing me his paper where he wrote down "2". Doesn't prove anything. He's yelling at me while I'm on the phone with the guy, trying to find out what's going on. The guy agreed to send out the missing item but wouldn't eat the freight. I explained that my dad has Alzheimer's and that some vendors take advantage of his illness. He got very upset and said that his grandfather had Alzheimer's and, "I wouldn't hurt your father for the world." It really sounded like he was crying. "And if other people do that, that's just..." he couldn't think of a word. "Wrong," he said finally. (Wow, I'm really in fiction mode, aren't I?) I actually had to call the guy twice, and my dad kept yelling at ME and my mom, like we could really do anything, saying he got charged $6 for this brochure instead of for the item he'd ordered. We could not make him understand it was a simple shipping charge for the order. Sometimes it's easier to give up and hope he forgets. Isn't that awful?
I was at a meeting this week where a lady had just lost her mother to cancer and she was complaining how horrible it is to watch someone die like that. Not that I don't agree, but I gently pointed out to her that if her mother had been hit by a car, or killed instantly by a stroke or heart attack, she would complain that she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye. Is there a good way to die? Probably. Is there a good way for those around you for you to die? Probably not. I personally think Alzheimer's is a lot worse than cancer. People with cancer retain their personalities and memories. My father knows this disease will kill him but he has no idea how much of his essential self has already been taken away.
There was a third thing, but now I can't remember.