Grow, Maintain, Decay

Dealing with the Cycle of Life in the Physical Universe

Recently, my husband, Bill, and I spent an hour with his doctor talking about whether the time had come to consider hospice care for him. It is hard to explain the effect it had on us to catalog the many ways in which his body has entered the cycle of life where decay starts to take center stage. My husband participated in this discussion of the abilities he has lost, the bodily functions that are becoming difficult to control, the ways in which his brain can no longer keep up with the demands of living. It was a brutal but necessary discussion and it could have been held without Bill in the room but he chose to take part in it. Bill has an extraordinary ability to confront the parts of life that most of us avert our eyes to avoid seeing. But the time spent in that room did take a heavy toll on both of us and, after the discussion was over and the decisions had been made, we needed to find a way to return to a place where we could find some sense of fulfillment and peace in our lives. This story is about how we managed to do that in spite of the harsh realities we are facing.

My husband and I love to have philosophical discussions about why we are on Planet Earth at this time; what the purpose of our journey here is; whether we cease to exist or live on as spirits when our bodies die; and why this place, in so many ways, is a violent, unforgiving planet. I believe, for example, that love and compassion are extremely important qualities to focus on developing and yet, the needs of this body of mine dictate that I regularly have to eat other species to help my own body survive. (Yes, as the accompanying photo shows, I include vegetables as a species: just because I can’t hear a tomato scream when I eat it doesn’t mean it is happy to be served for lunch.)

All those nature shows on television are wonderful until they get to the scene where the lions start chowing down on Bambi or the industrious ant colony gets crushed under a falling rock. Then the true nature of the planet and its inhabitants becomes apparent: it is often a cold, seemingly cruel, and painful place to live. It is hard to reconcile stories about the loving God who cares for every living thing and stories about the vengeful God who appears to smite folks regularly. Especially if I, or a person I love, seem to be the person being smitten. Add that confusion to the fact that some days I feel like the rock (intentionally or unintentionally) and other days I feel like the ant (this last statement is probably influenced by the invasion of ants we had in our kitchen recently and the harsh but effective way I dealt with the problem).

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Music Sooths the Savage Beast

The vast majority of the population gets tremendous fulfillment through music: some by writing it; some by playing it; some by listening to it. When other pleasures in life may become more difficult to access as our bodies age, music often remains a great source of pleasure although we may have to make modifications in the way we enjoy it. According to a good friend of ours, Karen Skipper, owner of Orange Coast Music Therapy ( and a Neurologic Music Therapy Fellow, music can be used to provide great pleasure for all people and also to help people who have had strokes, traumatic brain injuries, Parkinson’s and Huntington’s disease, Cerebral Palsy, Alzheimer’s disease, Autism, and other neurological diseases affecting cognition, movement, and communication such as Multiple Sclerosis and Muscular Dystrophy. Music can promote wellness, manage stress, alleviate pain, express feelings, enhance memory, improve communication and just plain be lots of fun. Karen has been known to work with patients who are completely unresponsive and, within an hour or two, have them singing along as she plays her guitar. If music can do all that for an unresponsive person, it might be able to pull the rest of us out of a funk, add pleasure to our day, and help us make the final fifteen percent of our lives more soothes the savage beast

I have first-hand experience of how music can help relieve pain. I decided to learn to rollerblade a few years ago. I assumed it would be quite similar to roller-skating as I had done it in my youth. I was wrong. It is far more like ice-skating. Within minutes of strapping on the skates and taking off across the park, my ankles were wobbling and my insteps were burning. I kept at it for a few weeks thinking I would build up strength and the pain would diminish. It didn’t: if anything it got worse. I was also a great deal clumsier than I had been as a teenager when we would skate for hours to music at the roller rink. skating-ladyThen one day, I took my headphones and Walkman with me (Judging by the Walkman, this was clearly more than a few years ago, probably more like twenty years ago). When I put it on and started playing Bob Seger’s “Give Me That Old Time Rock and Roll,” suddenly I not only became less clumsy but the pain was reduced. When the song ended, the discomfort returned. I eventually developed a whole play list of music with a strong rhythm and a rousing melody and the pain diminished so much I began to enjoy skating. If I were to follow the lead of the woman in the photograph, I bet I could still manage to roller blade. At 72, I would definitely want to use a walker as she is doing as a safety measure. Continue reading

Travel, Part 1: Flying in the Age of Claustrophobia

This blog is all about making the final fifteen percent of one’s life rewarding, and the most common item on the wish list of many people in that stage of life is travel. As long as we remain able-bodied and have sufficient income, travel is an obvious way to get pleasure from life. Unfortunately, when people start to face some physical challenges, travel often becomes one of the first pleasures in life to disappear. My husband and I both think there are ways to extend the period of time when travel can be pleasurable. Because I have served on the Board of Directors of the Parkinson’s Association of Orange County for the last five years and because both Bill and I have attended one of their best programs, a vocal therapy group, we both have lots of friends with physical challenges. A few of these friends have offered to contribute some information on how they manage to keep on traveling even with the mobility issues that Parkinson’s causes. Another friend with parents who have both mobility and cognitive issues is also contributing some ideas to this post.

There is so much information to cover on this subject that we will break this post into several parts. In this first part, we are going to talk about traveling by airplane. Future posts on travel will cover other forms of transportation as well as hotel stays, sightseeing, and other elements of pleasurable travel.

Arriving at the Finish Line

Finishing the Journey

Having a great travel experience involves far more planning than it did when we were young and could just grab a backpack and take off. Now there are items like medicines, mobility devices, personal hygiene issues (how to dispose of the Depends discretely), energy supply, etc. But all that planning can be half the fun because of the sense of anticipation it brings, and the end result is made clear in the picture we have included here.

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Crying Like a Baby

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.cry like a baby

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.

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Success or Failure: You Be the Judge, Part 1

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

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

Maintaining a Balance Between Giving and Receiving Help

 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.

Talking to each other

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.

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Counting Down from One Hundred by Sevens

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.

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Rub a Dub Dub

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.

Too much shampoo

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

Why in the World Should I Write a Blog


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

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.

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How I Came To View Myself As A Large Corporation

I wrote a book a long time ago. I called it Your Mind and Body are a Corporation and You Are the CEO. It was a strange title for a strange book. It was published over 20 years ago and it’s out of print now except in electronic format.

I got the idea for the book many years ago when I was still working full time as a trauma counselor. I had a very amazing client. He owned a large firm that did something in the electronics world. The firm had about 20,000 employees and my client took his job as owner and Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of the firm very seriously. I felt he was a very intelligent man and I admired how much he cared about his employees and how much he cared about the work that was done at his company. This client came to me for some help on personal issues and on family issues originally.

I have learned something from every client I’ve ever had during the years that I was doing trauma counseling. Every one of them, when they were finally able to confront the traumatic moments in their life, discovered some amazing truths buried in the rubble. I was always surprised at what my clients discovered when they finally came to terms with what had happened to them. The process itself of learning to fully confront life’s most difficult moments requires tremendous courage. My job was to help them find that courage, to reassure them by my caring and compassionate presence, and to guide them into looking at the traumatic things that had happened by helping them feel that they were not alone. People need to know that there’s someone else with them in order to gather the courage to examine life’s most difficult moments.

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