I got depressed today! It happens. Although this blog is about how to make the final 15% of your life fulfilling, and most of the time I do feel happy and fulfilled, there are times when depression overwhelms me. Not clinical depression: not the kind of depression that comes over a person for no reason in spite of the fact that life seems to be going well. I’m talking about the kind of depression that happens when life is tough. My life has felt tough recently. Correction: I should say that my husband’s life has been tough lately. It’s watching him deal with the tough parts that has made my life tough. Whoops! That’s not totally true either. Some days it’s hard to be completely honest. My life has been tough lately too.
Dementia steals so many things from the person who is experiencing it (and their loved ones). Over the last few years, my husband has had to sell his beloved Harley and his Madass Motorscooter, and then he had to give up driving completely. He’s had to give up the freedom to go anywhere he wants on his own; to be home alone if he chooses; or to go out in the garage and work on his projects. In short, he has lost the freedom to feel like an independent adult. But as everyone who is a caregiver knows, watching a loved one suffer such terrible losses has a profound effect on the observer too.
A lot of the pleasure that we get in the final 15% of our lives will be based on whether we have judged our actions or events during that period as successes or failures. Everyone has certain criteria that they use to make that judgment. But I think some of us would benefit from making an adjustment to those criteria. I have a story to tell that will explain why I feel that way.
I was talking to my husband Bill last night about an event from our past that I considered to be a wonderful adventure and therefore a great success. I was surprised to hear from him that he remembered it as a failure. I was having great pleasure just thinking about the event while he was experiencing a sense of loss thinking about the exact same event. It was a complex event in our life that contained many hopes and aspirations as well as actions and incidents that could each be judged a success or failure. I rated the overall event is a tremendous success because we had some amazing new experiences, many extremely enjoyable moments, some wonderful recognition for hard work done and, in my opinion, just one failure. Bill remembered only the failure.
Epcot Center Giant Ball marks the entrance to our adventure
The incident I am going to describe was based upon one of my husband’s amazing talents. Bill, in my opinion and the opinion of many other people, is a mechanical genius. On every project he’s ever worked on around the house or in the garage, he has ended up inventing some new tool or way of doing the action required. I didn’t always appreciate that talent when it resulted in the project taking much longer than I had anticipated but I could always appreciate the intelligence and thought behind the end result. Over the course of our youth, it never occurred to us to try to patent any of these amazing inventions or to try to profit from them financially. I think it never occurred to me that not everyone’s husband invented new tools regularly. What a shame. If I had one “do over” in life, I would be wiser about recognizing that my husband’s inventive talents might have been marketable. Continue reading
I was talking to my husband last night and he reminded me of a story I had written about a woman I worked with when I was working as a trauma counselor. That story had ended up as an article in Caregiver Magazine. The woman in the story is someone I admire more than I could possibly express. He suggested that the woman’s story, as I had written it many years ago, would be a good thing to post on this blog. He was right, as he so often is, and here is the story.
Communication can be a great form of help
I first met Helen shortly after she had been diagnosed with ALS, a progressively debilitating and usually fatal illness. As a long-time trauma counselor, I had frequently worked with people who had terminal illnesses but it was never easy. Helen surprised me though. Her biggest concern was not for her own all-too-brief future; it was for her husband, who was performing more and more care-giving tasks. Helen was afraid that her long-term illness would have a crushing effect on her husband’s health and spirits. Helen had nursed her first husband though his long and ultimately fatal illness so she knew exactly what her husband, Frank, would be up against in his attempts to care for her as the disease took its toll.
If you’ve ever been tested by a doctor to see if you have memory problems, or if you’ve ever accompanied someone else who has undergone the testing, you know exactly what counting down from 100 by sevens indicates. It’s a test that is commonly done to measure whether you have any signs of dementia. My husband, who was first diagnosed with dementia in 1995, has had the test many times while I have sat by and watched. I haven’t had the test done on me by a doctor yet, but I have attempted to do it on myself innumerable times. All I have to do is forget a word or forget to do something important, or have any other little memory lapse and I get a panicky feeling that is only quelled by starting to count down from 100 by sevens. Okay, I know, how could I tell if my answers were wrong if I truly had dementia! All my answers might be wrong and I would never know it. But common sense doesn’t enter into it when I’m overcome by that panicky feeling.
Why should I react so strongly to the thought that I might be developing dementia? Dementia is an expensive illness. My husband’s dementia has reached the stage known as moderate. He would not be able to live by himself; he is not able to drive; he has no idea if the bills get paid, the dishes get done, or any of the other vital tasks of running a household are accomplished. If he was a widower or if I had lost my marbles too (that is Bill’s description of his illness, by the way, not mine), he would have to be in a nursing home. Like many people in our age group, we are relatively comfortable in our retirement financially, but our budget would not cover two people in a nursing home at the same time for any extended period. That’s a cold hard fact of life. The fact that I talk about it and make back up plans is one of the reasons that some people think I’m morbid, but I consider it being practical.
I expect that the posts on this blog will contain everything from the ridiculous to the sublime. This particular post, however, is likely to have far more of the ridiculous in it then the sublime. I said in my first post on this site that I hoped to both inform and learn as a result of writing each post and receive useful comments from any readers I was fortunate enough to have. While I do think there will be some useful information for readers in this post, I am counting on receiving some help myself on the subject of bathing and bathtubs. Why? Because my husband has developed a terror of bathing, a common symptom of Dementia.
I’ve included some pictures with this post. As you may be able to tell from the picture below, one of the difficulties of bathing when you suffer from dementia is that you might forget that you have already put soap on your hair, and then consequently do it again and again. And when you are using a walk-in tub with those wonderful water and air jets, this can result in a lot of bubbles. Usually, when my husband, Bill, is bathing, I stay right there with him just to prevent catastrophes like the one in the picture. The day of the picture, I decided answering the phone in the middle of Bill’s bath was a good idea. It wasn’t! By the time I returned, cell phone in hand, to check on how he was doing, bubbles were pouring out all over the floor. On the good side, since I had the cell phone camera right there, I was able to capture the moment for posterity. By the way, Bill drove a hard bargain before he signed a release agreeing to let me use the picture in this post.
Keep that shampoo away from forgetful bathers
In my very first post on this site, I mentioned that a sense of humor was extremely important when dealing with the challenges of the final fifteen percent of your life. It’s actually very helpful throughout the entire lifetime, but it’s critical in the final part. My first reaction to the bubbles rapidly filling up the floor of the bathroom was dismay at the amount of work cleaning the mess was going to take. But my upset turned to laughter the moment I caught sight of the expression on my sweetie’s face. Continue reading
Now that I have actually started writing this post, I’m beginning to wonder if I gave it the wrong title. This blog is a joint effort between my husband and I, and while I do the actual writing, his input is a very important part of what gets written. Maybe the title should be “Why in the World are We Writing this Blog Together.”
Bill and Janet on the Beach in Fort Lauderdale
There are actually some very good reasons for starting a blog now. My husband and I have somehow become elderly. We’re relatively new at it and I still have trouble thinking that the term “elderly” applies to me. My husband has an even harder time thinking it applies to him. We are both well into our 70s now and there is no denying that we are elderly. We named our blog the Final Fifteen because we do feel we are in the final 15% of our lives. During each stage of our lives, we’ve tried to have a lot of fun. Getting our educations, caring for our children, carving out our careers, planning for retirement, and now living that retirement: each of these stages of our lives have had their own pleasures and challenges. We want this last stage to be just as good as the others.
This blog is about what we are trying to do to continue to enjoy our lives even though we’ve somehow become elderly. We’ve observed some elderly people who seem to manage to have a wonderful time and we’ve observed others who don’t seem to be enjoying their golden years at all. We’ve developed some opinions about what makes the difference in those two circumstances and we want to learn even more.