Old-timers Disease

By Valerie Halla

When I was young, I was fortunate to have my grandparents and elderly Great Aunts and Uncles around. I liked helping them and listening to them tell stories. Then as I became a teenager, I started to slip away from hanging around older people and didn’t give older relatives nor just old people in general any thought. I even avoided having anything to do with them. Yes, it was mean, but I was young and wanted to be surrounded by fun, energetic, like minded individuals. It wasn’t cool to be seen with wrinkled, gray haired, slow moving people.

You know how hummingbirds zip by when you’re outside and sometimes jerk to a halt midair or randomly watch a stream of water from the hose? That is how I see my time in this life. It zips by quickly and jerks to a stop sometimes briefly. Now I am 70ish and it’s making sense even through my hard headed mind that as you get older the light no matter how dim, comes on. I see now why as I was so young, my elders were trying to still be relevant. Even as they were sliding, slowing down and reaching their golden years they wanted to be a part of our family and society sharing stories from their youth to help we young folks see who they were and where their place in history was, no matter how small a slice they had carved out. Their lives mattered.

I’m hoping I don’t get Alzheimer’s but I guess if you told me I already had it, I wouldn’t know. I would just think that I’m normal anyway. I don’t think any of my grandparents had it. Grandpa Sanderson was very sharp and Grandma had a good sense of humor and always had pies, sauces and food ready for us. A doctor would need to tell me and then it would hit home, if I had Alzheimer’s, and would hit me hard and painfully. Mostly I would feel bad for my family. One cousin told us that when you have Alzheimer’s, you meet the nicest people.

One day when our one son was about 8 years old, we drove by a man in our neighborhood who clearly was walking with difficulty, head bobbing, jerky walk and looking about erratically. He seemed lost. Our son stared out the car window pointing at him and declared, “That man must have old-timer’s disease!” At the time we thought that was a cute way to say it, but later we sobered up. I later called the police to report our concern and they said they would go check on the man. It’s not funny and Alzheimer’s is a serious disease with no cure at present. It mostly affects older people so now that I am 70ish, it’s a possibility the disease could sneak up on me. There is much to worry about now in my later years.

I have a 78 year old friend with many health concerns and she goes for medical tests, infusions for rheumatoid arthritis, CT scans, AFIB and many other things. She almost died from a kidney bleeding this year. When I asked if she has had a colonoscopy she said, “No, never but with all I’m going through health wise I just say, ‘Get in line.‘“

I’m feeling the need to be relevant, to socialize and say hello to people even when young people often don’t say hello back. But I get it. In youth, older adults often don’t count or are off the grid of a twenty-something’s vision for the future. The shoe is on the other foot now when you turn into an old-timer. I am learning that. It’s a different world.

Canine Spelled Backwards by Valerie Halla

If you are going through a tough time in your life, get a dog. If you have a dog, take it for a walk or play with your canine buddy.

If you are depressed, pet your dog for about ten minutes. If you’re depressed and do not have a dog, go by your local animal shelter and sit with a dog. Talk to the sweet animal. It will listen. Trust me. You will feel better and so will the dog. You do not need to adopt the dog, just visit a few times now and then. Or borrow a friend’s dog.

If you’re feeling the need to give to a charity or help your community some way, go volunteer at an animal shelter or foster a dog, or kitten! If you cannot get out and are home bound, donate a little dough or bag of dog food or cat chow.

If you’re overworked, go home to a great friend who will love you unconditionally and wag with unfettered affection as you walk in the door.

Maybe you know how caring for a cancer patient can be a downer. It also can be complicated with intermittent hope. There are many low dark days sprinkled around. I always have the thought lying dormant way in the back of my mind under the cobwebs, all the dusty memories and brain clutter that this will be over and my husband will be healthy in the future. Somewhere down this dark road with its stop signs, road blocks and speed bumps, we will both come out on the freeway in the fast lane, foot on the gas doing 85 maybe 90 driving a Porsche Boxter convertible. We will be celebrating that this long drive is about over…. No more blood tests, nor Scans, nor video doctor visits, nor immunotherapy, nor meds changing, adjusting and adding and removing. We will be smiling and waving to other people as we pass their cars behind. We will be free. Cured. Alive. Maybe this new life is a possibility. Who can tell? I can’t hear the sound of life’s problems because the wind is whistling in my ears as we drive, and my eyes are staring ahead at the pavement as my mouth is open tasting fresh air as well as fresh bugs. The Porsche keeps transporting me away into a dreamy heavenly ride to a nonexistent destination.

Then I shake off all that dusting of hope, my old mind kinda clears and I look at reality, at the old car in the driveway, no Porsche, and at the calendar on the fridge with its many appointments to come. Sitting in our old car, there is no end to it all looking out the rear view mirror, no other cars and definitely nothing out the pitted, dirty front windshield. I cannot clean it. I’m afraid the cancer is still on the medical records and onto the future and two years of infusion treatments are looming. We have to stick it out. We must drive on. We have to grab the few moments of happiness and not let go. Good memories are back there somewhere. We will always try to call forth those times. However, we have this issue, this problem and we will deal with it.

I have a short trip planned to visit our oldest son this weekend in southern California, and our second son will stay at home with his Dad. I am going to take this vacation to breathe, have fun with my son and go places. I might even pretend I am free for a pinpoint in time. I’ll take my foot off the gas and cruise through a museum, go out for a leisurely coffee and lunch and an extra long dinner out with my son and maybe even have a glass of wine. It will be a break in the routine. Caregivers need to take those breaks. Plus we need to let family help out.

I was watching an old series called BAND OF BROTHERS . Marines lived through horrendous battles and withstood grueling conditions in WWII and one scene showed an officer making a young Marine go back to the medical facility in a safe zone for some R and R, saying even a 24 hour break away from the front lines can help a weary soldier. The results could help prop up a young man’s morale. I’m not saying I have experienced anything like those brave young fighters did, but I’m sure a little respite will help me ten fold. I have an attitude of gratitude for any break I can grab. You should grab one when the opportunity comes, just like the young Marines did pushing themselves to the brink in wartime then getting an officer command them to go to the rear for a brief rest. Caregivers need someone advising them to take a timeout. Go to the rear and recover so you’re ready for the next battlefield because the end is not near.

Resentment by Valerie Halla

As you take care of a terminally sick person over weeks, months, years or even just temporarily, you might become beset with questions like:

Why am I doing this?

How did it come to this? It’s too difficult. I can’t carry on day after day, sometimes not even getting a full nights sleep before the whole job starts over again. Is this Monday or Saturday or does it even matter?I’m working my fingers to the bone. Worse yet, I can’t feel my fingers.

What did I do to deserve this?

How did I go wrong? I didn’t volunteer to be a caregiver. I’m not trained for this. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m working like a stevedore. I’m too old for this.

Can I take a nap? Can I just walk out the door and never return? Don’t I deserve to be on a beach somewhere just lazing in the sun, cold drink in hand?

The ill person that I take care of doesn’t even seem to appreciate what I am doing sometimes. They don’t always thank me. What makes the situation even worse, is that I am now feeling ticked off when I’m supposed to be patient, kind, caring and helpful. Instead I’m feeling full of resentment toward the person and the situation I’ve been thrust into. I’m working hard but I’m supposed to be retired. I do not want a job at 70ish.

Resentment is a mean word. It can fester and grow and be like cancer- tough to fight and tough to eliminate from your mind and body. It makes me feel guilty that it’s come upon me…now…in my Golden Years.

I was talking to someone recently who had cared for a loved one with a different disease, Alzheimer’s. He said sometimes the patient would lash out at him, be rude, mean, irritable, almost violent. The more we chatted, it came to the surface that these people who are terminally ill, are feeling trapped and angry. They’re in a bad place. It seems hopeless to them. They don’t understand nor do they try to after a while. Hope fades and we caregivers need to just try to keep some positive vibes going no matter how dire the circumstances. But it’s not simple. You cannot blame these ill people. They feel trapped as can caregivers.

I have no answers. I have a few suggestions. Just know that if you’re a caregiver currently or have been one, it’s normal to feel resentful. When it falls upon you, seek help. Even a telephone call to a friend or relative will help. Vent, gripe, complain and let your feelings out. If someone can give you a break, take it. It’s normal to feel this way.

This too shall pass.

Uncalled for Comments Met with Apology, Respect and Rewards by Valerie Halla

I’m still a caregiver and I’m still learning about how to deal with giving up my time for the 24/7 job of helping another person through a cancer diagnosis and I’m learning every day that people can be angels- sweet angels on earth.

Another major lesson I am gradually getting pounded into my tired little brain is: take a break now and then. Now sooner than then, because I’m no spring chicken. I’m not even a summer nor fall chicken. Maybe more like a winter chicken in that time of year when the snow is piling up in drifts all around me. So it is necessary to hit the ground looking for people who can help me enjoy life and shovel off the snow drifts, to have a little down to earth, friend’s fun time.

A few months back I thought i needed to stay home and not go out because my caregiving responsibilities did not allow for time out. More recently I am definitely taking some breaks. Today I met an old friend, whom I’ve known since the 1960’s. We met up at our local coffee shop for just an hour which was packed with catching up and opening up. But before that, something sweet and refreshing happened. Something which showed me how wrong I can be.

I was waiting in line to order a hot drink, standing in front of a tall young man who had a serious expression and looked straight over my head, He was maybe 35 with a trim haircut and a young nondescript face. At my age everyone looks young. As I stood there in front of the stranger, waiting, my friend of 70ish years walked stiffly through the door and got behind this young man. She was obviously struggling with arthritis. I turned to hug her first asking this man if she could skip ahead in line to stand with me. We were already jabbering about seeing one another.

.He said, “As long as it’s quick.”

I said to him, “You know, just go ahead of me in line.” As he stepped hurriedly in front of me, I hugged my dear friend and said, in a disgusting voice “These younger generations!” I was being critical and was hopeful he hadn’t heard me. My friend and I started talking again and smiling since we hadn’t seen each other in over a year. I wanted to have a serious conversation also with her because she didn’t know my husband had melanoma brain cancer and I needed to let her know.

Just as we turned to place our order, the smug young man finished ordering, then he stopped, looking at us and said, “Hey, what would you ladies like?” holding up his credit card. “I was rude, so sorry and tell me what you want to order…a drink, any food? I’m buying.”

We were flabbergasted beyond flabber and gasted.

“Uhhh, what do you want, Madeline?” I stammered.

“That’s very nice of you! I’ll have a hot tea, a black hot tea”

Looking up at him I said, “I’ll take a tea also, the same.“

He then suggested,”Any food?”

We both said, “No thank you. This is very kind of you”

Madeline added, “This is a big deal for two old ladies!”

Feeling guilty I tried to make a joke. “Well, maybe if they had steak and lobster I’d take that, and you could pay for it, but I know they don’t serve it here so just tea is good!” The so called joke fell flatter than my joke telling skills and no one laughed. No one even smiled. I tried to grin but stopped.

He paid for our drinks. We sat down waiting for our order and after he got his order, he left.

We both looked at each other and were glad we had gotten free drinks. We got much more than free drinks. I said to my dear pal, “I guess he heard me say that derogatory remark about this younger generation or maybe he’s just a sweet guy. Either way, I feel badly that I didn’t see the good there and he restored my faith in youthful people. What a great gesture.”

We both agreed we had met someone special. There are good people around and we had been blessed meeting one; a young man who made our morning even better. I figured that this experience should make me a better person also. It might have rubbed off on me. I’m hoping it did. There is always room for improvement and life offers us lessons for us sometimes in the least expected places. Just because I am 70ish, doesn’t mean I can’t learn, and love others.

Flashback Photos by Valerie Halla

Our cousins keep in touch for which I am eternally grateful. One cousin sent a batch of old pictures her mother had put into an album. The pictures don’t have much info on the reverse side because some of them were glued into an album. These photos are worth more than anything to me and definitely worth more than a thousand words. Besides I’m not sure I could even type 1000 words today, My caregiving duties suck time like a robovac vacuuming up crumbs. I try to find time to write down memories which are fast fleeting the older I get.

Here goes with old pictures and old fading memories of days spent with more innocence and more fun than most things give us nowadays…

Great memories.

Help Helps \ by Valerie Halla

As I continue my role as my husband’s caregiver, I see and learn and appreciate a lot that I was never expecting. First off, after 7 months of constant caregiving, I’m hopeful. All this after being ticked off at first that my freedom and life were gone. Why am I angry? Because I’m working 24/7! Why can’t I get in the car and just drive to the beach? Because I cannot leave my husband alone. Will I ever have fun anymore? I need some fun! I forget what it’s like. Can I get up four times a night to help my partner and lose sleep and survive? Barely. Something has to change.

I have learned how to lift properly using the Gait belt, I have gotten equipment to help ease the situation, dealt with the many medications and organized them,given my mate baths with a handheld shower, gotten strong support with a health care company and approached the situation less strictly, because after awhile you just get through the day the best you can. You have stains on your sweatpants? Nobody will notice. We will wash them next week. Your nails need to be clipped? Let’s do that tomorrow. You throw caution to the wind and turn inward. You realize – I’m alone in this and I’m sorta functioning, but a little voice bounces back: I need help. How do I ask for help? Why can’t I do this? I need to try. Asking can’t hurt.

The brightest lightest crack of hope came when I went to lunch with two friends about one month ago and spilled my guts about how I felt guilty yet angry for having to care for my husband 24/7 which felt like forever/7! They were both telling me, urging me, pleading with me to get help. I shouldn’t feel guilty they told me. They even googled places to contact. They added up out of pocket costs and who to ask. They made it clear that I could get support.

Now I have been doing research myself and reaching out to agencies for caregiver assistance. I’m self educating myself about laws and regulations for help. I’m starting to feel some relief. I’m starting to research where to go and how to ask for support. A caregiver is coming next week to help four days a week. Hallelujah.

Some of my neighbors also have been asking how they can help and I used to just say, “I am fine,” but now I give them a date and time to specifically ask if they could come sit with husband while I go do errands or go with friends for coffee or lunch, People want to know how they can help. It helps to give them a chance to help. They actually want to help in a small way or even a large way. They’re all offering different kinds of help. I’m not shy nor stubborn about getting help any more. It’s pure sunshine coming into my previously dark life. Even our family has stepped up. I’m so glad people are so supportive, patient and kind. It makes me feel that I am not alone. Help is appreciated and needed. Just try it – go ahead.

I have been fortunate while caring for my husband who has melanoma brain cancer, that neighbors have stopped in once in a while and stayed with him while I take a walk with the dog or go out with friends for lunch or do errands. It’s nice to take a break and just short ones can go a long way in renewing your energy. We have one friend who brings treats and snacks.

This friend brought over homemade chocolate brownies with chopped walnuts. We chatted a bit then suggested we go sit in the sun out on the patio out front where it was sunny and warm. I got Ken down the two steps on our front porch going backwards just like the kind young Occupational Therapist had trained me to do. We two sat in lawn chairs and my husband sat comfortably in the wheelchair with a baseball cap on just soaking up the delicious sunshine. What an idea to simply take our conversation outside. The move immediately lifted our spirits, helping not only the patient but helping the caregiver and visitor. Then I decided to bring the brownies outside. Not only were we in sunshine warmth but now we reveled in chocolatey heaven, munching on chewy delicious brownies. It did us all good.

The breaks you take don’t have to be long nor far away. The simplest ones feel like a long nap, rejuvenating every sore muscle and aching back. Our brownie backing phenom is an angel in disguise. While my husband and I get frustrated sitting at home waiting for the next meal when I give him his next round of pills, this good friend comes by with treats and stories to share while we sit in the bright spring sunshine. He has also brought a giant jar of biscotti, a plate of chocolate chip yum cookies, a frozen lasagne, and also shared books he finds helpful.

Another neighbor came over this week to say hi to us as we sat outside and walked casually over to the front porch.

“You haven’t gotten ramps made yet for the wheelchair. I can make them. I’ve got the supplies,” he said nonchalantly. He pulled out a tape measure and started measuring the doorway, then the first step down out the front door. The next step at the porch end he measure next as talked the whole time. He is known in the neighborhood as a real chatterbox and you don’t get much chance to cut in once he starts gabbing. We just let him go. As he left with measurements recorded on his phone, I mentioned we could maybe pay him or reimburse him for materials. Geez, was that a mistake. He wanted to help us out since we were having to go through cancer and tough times in our old age.

He brought one ramp the next day and the last one the following day complete with indoor/outdoor carpet lining both ramps. They were definitely homemade but did the trick. No more struggling to get my husband in his wheelchair out the front door and into the car for appointments. This neighbor definitely is a true helpful person. We had put off getting ramps and just struggled through for months. This kind man helped immensely with just a simple gesture and our life was easier in just a couple days time. We are so thankful for our neighbor.

When people have cancer, you know they are on a lot of meds plus they are dealing with maybe chemo or immunotherapy treatments. Prescriptions pile up. We have one entire shelf in our kitchen stocked with medication, vitamins and dare I say it? Yup, laxatives. Old folks get to be pretty familiar with the subject.

It can be embarrassing, emotional and moving, quite moving, when it comes to – dare I say – constipation, another difficult word. It’s an education in itself knowing which laxatives work. There are little pills in bright colors, liquids, gritty powders, white milky concoctions, one even combines the words MIRACLE AND LAX, and there are flavored candy ones, and don’t get me started on the difference between laxatives and here goes, stool softeners. I will admit you can get involved more than you intend with reading labels and finding which products work. And you might need time to determine if a laxative, pardon me, produces results. Don’t give up though, however frustrating the search can be. Constipation is uncomfortable to experience as well as discuss on any level, especially if you’re young.

There is also a tea you can drink to help get unstuck. It’s called Smooth Move and it is a laxative also. It’s a soothing, hot and relaxing drink. I think the word “laxative” comes down to another word: relax. It’s important to relax and let the relaxative work.

When I was younger, I would’ve fainted with embarrassment discussing constipation, laxatives and being regular. Those were dirty words which I avoided like other terms: bowel movement, diarrhea, colons and so on. Heaven forbid even thinking of those, Who needs those bad words in their fresh young mind?

Our 40 year old son recently helped grocery shop and accidentally bought a popular laxative for us (if laxatives can even be popular) since they weren’t what we wanted. He brought home by mistake suppositories not pills. We asked him to please return them. He kindly obliged. Taking the bottle of suppositories and the receipt back to the pharmacy counter, he explained to the young man behind the counter that he didn’t want this laxative type – suppositories. The pharmacy sales representative looked confused and said they WERE a laxative – why weren’t they satisfactory? So our son explained that they were suppositories and tried to crudely explain how they’re used but our son got cut off. The sales representative held up his hand halfway through the explanation and stopped the conversation.

“Say no more, please,” the young man replied and proceeded to refund our son the money and take back the bottle of suppositories, no more explaining needed.

Here’s hoping you’re doing well in the regularity department and can be just a regular person in more ways than one.

I gotta go now and drink my prune juice. Hey! Don’t get me started again.

When you have someone dealing with cancer, you need to have the right equipment and resources. The professional physical therapists, occupational therapists and home health care nurses know what’s best. They are teaching me, the new healthcare giver, so much. It’s not easy teaching an old dog new tricks and being an old one who knows, it’s not easy teaching this old dog any tricks at all. But I’m trying to learn. The pros who come into our house to help are fantastic. They know how to help and support my husband as he deals with melanoma brain cancer and all that goes with it.

We have lived in our house since 1986 and added on plus remodeled but for my husband to get around we added a tension pole, a special arm release toilet that goes over the regular toilet and a shower tub bench. A useful tool in helping him move from wheelchair to couch or chair was the Gait belt. The PT is also using a side walker or hemi- walker to get my husband up and learning to walk around properly.

I’m in charge of the medications so these pill organizers have helped me stay on top of when he needs pills and what dose. I use one for nighttime meds and one for daytime medications.

I have to stress the importance of professional help. I was at a loss when my husband was diagnosed with cancer then had cyber knife treatments, started immunotherapy and later had seizures and couldn’t walk well. We were overwhelmed at what to do but a home healthcare company saved us! The physical therapist recommended equipment and aides then he came and installed it for us! The occupational therapist also helped with the best setup for our house and above all the safest setups. He gave suggestions and examples on how to get my husband stronger, more mobile and comfortable thereby increasing his self confidence at the same time.They both practiced exercises and movements for him to do to improve his overall strength. They were downright amazing.

The pole is a conversation piece when people come to visit and a few have even taken pictures. Some mention pole dancers but we’re just keeping it simple for now. Don’t think we should need to put up signs: NO POLE DANCING ALLOWED – at least not for now.