ALZ caregiving is not about the caregiver. Inside of each patient with cognitive brain disorder is a beautiful individual with a good heart wondering what’s going on in their heads. My husband was diagnosed in 2009 with Alzheimer’s Disease. I’ve been his 24/7 voice and caregiver since that date. From the onset of my husband’s ALZ attack, I had to learn by trial and error. It soon became very clear, in our situation, that this was our journey. I had to figure out so much about something I knew so little about. However, I knew without a doubt that I needed to learn, “How do I become what he needs when his reality is not real and is not mine.
Over the past years, the wheelchair has become the most important part of our society. If you are aged and have to travel with family. If you are suffering from very serious health injury then a wheelchair has always been supportive at that point.
Claims of over-sensitivity and excessive PC culture have been prevalent in recent years, especially in defense of the use of inflammatory or derogatory language. The term retard (hereafter referred to as the r-word) is a good example of this. In addition to claiming naysayers are too sensitive, people will also try to argue that the r-word isn’t really a slur, or that they don’t mean it “like that” and so it’s okay for them to use it.
So I thought ONE DAY I would write down what happened to me so here goes
Being mad at my chronic illness is like being mad at an earthquake.
I came across this GIF and I actually laughed and eyerolled at the same time.
The first thing I remembered seeing was her own reflection; a bruised and weary face from the car accident I had been in days ago. The bruises were deep and dark the pain seemed to be endless but the doctors were confident that she would recover in time. I had been in a coma for five days and was ready to go home now so only time would tell but time was all I had now. Why wasn’t my husband there to take her home? Why had he not been to the hospital? My mom couldn’t answer my questions but was very angry because he’d already used my bank account without permission.
Every #WorldDiabetesDay, I blog about #diabetes, as one does. Generally speaking, I make some mention of the kid—really, now a manchild of nearly 16 years—who I affectionately dub as my "diabetes warrior buddy." This young man so impresses me that if one were to ask who I look up to, I'd mention his name. He's never let this autoimmune condition—in his case, he has Type 1 diabetes—slow him down, not even once, and he's done more in his 15-and-three-quarters years on the planet than many have done in their lifetimes. In spite of having to strictly monitor his blood sugar levels, prick his fingers several times a day, live with an insulin pump and monitor in his arm, and occasionally wake up disoriented and confused because his blood sugar levels are too low, he still approaches everything with his typical broad smile and positive attitude.
It seems to be an unspoken rule, especially here in the south, that when someone asks you how you’re doing, you’re supposed to say the phrase “I’m fine.” For many years, this has become almost second nature and slips from my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying. And I’ve come to hate it.
I am never in the habit of knocking before entering an exam room. It is a byproduct of a day stacked on end and nearly falling over in an avalanche. I only realized after 14 years how intrusive I am.
The world around us is alive with color and sound. Often, there is too much information to absorb, and our minds become overwhelmed with data. Every individual has a different tolerance level for data overload. Some individuals are only comfortable when immersed in color and sound, while others prefer silence and monochrome. There are also individuals who drift between immersion and stillness, sometimes favoring one, sometimes the other.