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.

29 Red Sox, blood eye, NaNoWriMo

10-31-04 Mayatime: 1.19.11.13.7 8 Manik 10 Zac

I really, really wanted the Red Sox to win the World Series this year. If I liked baseball, I'd be a Red Sox fan, just because my dad is. (I really detest sports.) This year, Stephen King was going to write a history of the BoSox, win or lose. I said, when I heard, "wouldn't it be cool if they win the World Series this year?" Ha ha ha.

So unless you've been in a cave for the last two weeks, you know the Bosox came from behind in a 0-3 pennant run against the evil Yankees to go onto the world series and kick butt 3-0 against some unknown team. (really, no one ever heard of them.) In fact, Osama Bin Laden even came OUT of his cave and made an announcement. I'm not sure if he mentioned the Red Sox or not, but he probably was stunned and forced out of his cave with the knowledge that they won.

My cousin's girlfriend is a major Yankees fan and she said my cousin was making the BoSox win. I told him to tell her I wanted Boston to win for my dad, but she wasn't convinced that was a good enough reason.

Well, the gods heard my prayers on behalf of Stephen King and my dad, and they won.

My mom said my father was hardly even aware of it. He said "yay" and that was about all. He's lost his enjoyment of the game. I could be grateful and say that thank god I won't have to hear the game in the background at every meal during the season, but given the choice, I'd have a fully functioning dad and and deal with the sports.

There's all sorts of superstitions about the Red Sox game on Stephen King's web site. For instance, in the last few Dark Tower books, link he mentions "19" a lot. The date they won: 10-27 10+2+7=19 and it was a full moon AND an eclipse (so the moon was blood red, the Crimson King). The last time they won was 1918 which adds up to 19 (1+9+1+8). It was 86 years since they last won, and they were last in the series in 1986. I doubt any of that will make that into Faithful, his book on this season but it's fun anyway.

Friday night, I was practicing with my wireless keyboard/pseudo- laptop to make sure I could upload to my computer. The infrared port died, so I had to plug it directly in. I had to get up to reach the back of the CPU and not once but twice I hit my head on the new wooden shelf Will built me. I didn't think anything of it until I woke up Saturday (yesterday) morning and went to put in my contacts and my left eye was half blood. I kind of freaked out a little (the whole blood thing, and eye thing) but I figured it was nothing bad. My aunt Bert had her whole eye go red and it was no big deal. (I am grossing myself out here ewww.)

Two hours later Will comes home from work and I show him my eye and he tells me I have to go to the doctor. I call my eye doctor and managed to get someone although it was 12:04. She said go to an ophthalmologist OR the emergency room. I was afraid to drive (who know what they'd do to my eye and if I could see). I grabbed my contact case and my glasses and my mom took me to the old hospital in Meriden (where I was born). They said, as I had thought, that it was no big deal. So I have a bright red blood eye. Perfect for Halloween.

It's 8:16 and NaNoWriMo starts in less than four hours. I am going to try to keep this up as well as crank out 1667 words (not quite 7 pages) a day for 30 days.

YAY for spring ahead-fall back. I get to sleep later. :)

28 NaNoWriMo, Red Sox, poem,

10-23-04 (Saturday) Mayatime 12.19.11.12.19 13 Cauac 2 Zac (Portal)
As NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org) grows closer, I will post less & less. Don't expect much in November, at least not until I've got my 50,000 words written. Since I'm working this year, it's doubtful that I'll finish my 50K by 11/11 as I did last year. I'm franticly plotting away, gearing up for that Novemeber 1st start date.
I'm very happy that the Red Sox won the pennant. (Is that what it's called? I am such a sports ignoramus, and proud of it.) My dad is a major huge Red Sox fan. I am hoping they'll win the World Series (what's it been? 89 years? Is there anyone even alive who REMEMBERS that game?) and make him really happy. I haven't seen him since that record-breaking game 7 (which I did watch some of, amazingly enough). But Mom says he's "in his glory." (Does anyone else use that phrase? What the hell does it even mean? Sounds Biblical, doesn't it?)
I really don't have anything new to post on the dad situation. A new lady started working with me, and her dad has it too. She told me she was staying at his house while her mom was in the hospital, and at 2 a.m. he was about to drive away in his pajamas. He said he was going to the bank. She convinced him that the bank was closed and to go back to bed. In the morning, he realized what he had done and explained it away by saying he was actually going to the dump. Funny but sad.
My friend Agrimeer gave me permission to quote his poem "Split" (mentioned in entry 26, above):
Split
The thought of you
ruled my thumb
14 times last night.
Hitching, I found the jungle,
then ditched the road.
When dew thins I glimpse an ocelot.
From where I squat he
walks on water, takes interest
in the cricket bending a reed,
but then he notices me,
springs to the bank,
forgets all movements
outside himself.
The thought of you
ruled my eyes
15 times today.
I could still see the path
where grass is bent.
(c) by Agrimeer 2004 quoted by permission
Also, I wanted to note that the woman who followed me home from Stop & Shop did not come to the circle of light meeting, nor did the girl from the car repair place. Frustrating, yes, but what can I do? I can't force people to come if they aren't ready.

argh why can't I change the font on this anymore? where's the font button gone to?

27 anniversary, bad banks, NaNoWri, Red Lobster, re-testing,

10-09-04 Mayatime:12.19.11.12.5 12 Chicchan 8 Yax

Yesterday was my 11th wedding anniversary. Kind of scary to think it’s been this long. I could list all the things I meant to do during these first ten years, but it would be too depressing.

Usually we go away for our anniversary. At first it was to Cape Cod, but now we’ve discovered the Carribean. I have such a longing for Grand Cayman but it’s obviously not meant to be this year. The hurricane (no, I don’t remember which one. The 3d one?) really hurt my beloved island. When I was figuring out the cost to go to Runic Con, I decided to do a compare-and-contrast to a 4 day trip to Grand Cayman and no matter what dates I chose, Expedia.com came up with “nothing’s available” so it still must be bad down there. :(

Yesterday my car still wasn’t ready. Luckily my mom had the day off so she nicely took me to work and picked me up afterward. We had to do bank stuff (there should be a book “guide to banking for Alzheimer’s patients’ families”). First mom took me & Will to Wendy’s for lunch. We spent (no lie or exaggeration) TWO HOURS at the bank. The printer wouldn’t work so they couldn’t print any of the account change forms. The guy who helped us, Duke, was left-handed and he wrote backward–right to left, not left to right. Very strange to watch. He was also wearing the UGLIEST shirt I’ve ever seen. It looked okay on him and it actually went nice with his jacket. He was a black guy-they can wear strange color combinations that us white people never could.

I had meant to go home and work on the plot for my NaNoWriMo novel, which is actually just part two/book two of Ridden (takes place in a different time and place than part one so I’m counting it as a new book). But we didn’t get out of the bank until almost 3:30 and we were going to dinner at 4:00. So I just picked up my car and went to her house. I might have made a new friend at the car repair shop, a pagan who’s looking for pagan friends. We’ll see. Don’t remember if I mentioned the woman who followed me home from Stop & Shop on 9/17–she didn’t show up to the Web of Love event on 9/18 so we’ll see if she comes to the Circle of Light meeting on 10/13. Same with this new girl–will she show, will she call, will she take classes?

Since it was our anniversary, my parents took us out. Willy had originally said he wanted to go to Sushi House, but I hate the stink in there & my father said absolutely not. So we compromised and went to Red Lobster. I had to beg my dad not to get the clams and linguini. He got that when we went to RL on my birthday and it stunk so bad I couldn’t eat my own food. Nice, huh? The Red Sox game was on so he kept asking Will for the score and/or going to the bar to watch the game. (I believe they won–I despise sports and try not to follow that nonsense.) He had to listen to the game all the way home, all that high-pitched AM radio static that just cuts right through my head and into my bones. Ouch. Then Dad wanted to wash my car windows, so I let him. He was upset that I didn’t put the game on. I tried to explain that I have ONE speaker which works, and it’s in the back, and I can’t turn it up very loud.

Good news, of a sort. My parents went back to the doctor and had my father re-tested after 3 months of being on Acricept and he did a little BETTER in the math. He had some trouble with the word “watch” but my mom said he knew to point to his wrist. So that’s pretty damn good, I think. To hold your own with Alzheimer’s is like improvement.

But honestly, what do those tests measure? I think he’s gone downhill in other aspects. He still drives, but he’s ultra-cautious in a way he never was. When he was following me, I made sure every time I pulled out into traffic there was enough space for two cars to pull out, but he would wait and I’d have to pull over so he could find me again. When I told him I worked near Lido’s, an Italian restaurant he likes, he had no idea what Lido’s was or how to get there. Once we drove past it, he knew exactly where he was and even said he knew we were near the spring water place. It’s like he can’t visualize things anymore. He has to SEE them. He’s very concrete.

For instance, at RL, Will was trying to find something for my dad to order which wouldn’t stink and ruin my meal. He showed Dad a picture of a piece of salmon (another stink food) with some shrimp pasta and suggested he get the shrimp pasta by itself. My father agreed, but when the plate came he asked where the salmon was. We tried to explain that he hadn’t ORDERED salmon, but he said “the picture showed salmon.” Then he said, about his shrimp cocktail, “When we go to the other place they give me seven, there’s only six here.” Where the other place is, who knows (maybe the Rustic Oak–I think he’s gotten shrimp cocktail there). When we got back into the car to go home, to the lovely screeching accompaniment of AM radio, he thanked us for the meal my mom had just paid for. Sigh.