Alzheimer's Disease: The Beatitudes

It's the endless chocolate. Or bacon when you want it.
Or carrying around a doll if you like.
This year-end piece in the Times is about Beatitudes, a facility for Alzheimer's patients.
What a concept: work with them and don't leave them lying around nearly comatose and over-medicated. Granted, as yet, there's no magic bullet to Alzheimer's. But this philosophy of treating the person as a person--finding what makes him or her calm and able to cope--is a giant step.
"Blessed are those who mourn; they will be comforted."

The key to happiness

Money didn't make the list.
Neither did vacation homes or private jets. (Or body enhancements!)
Prevention.com has this list of things destined to make you--and me--happy. The things on the list make sense.
The one I especially like: Savor mystery.
We just can't know everything. That shouldn't make us intellectually lazy; but the world is a complex place and the more we appreciate that and revere mystery, the better off we are. In my humble opinion.
Also, today is the penultimate day of the year. I have waited 364 days to use that word. Cheers.

In praise of nurses

I can't seem to get off the medical/hospital subject. (Maybe one of these days!)
Here's the latest Well blog from the Times in which Dana Jennings writes about some of the nurses he's known.
I can't say enough good things about the nurses we've encountered over the past 11 days. One got my dad up out of bed today! A real step forward, so to speak, though my understanding is that he just stood up. I talked to him on the phone after the Big Event.
I have no qualms with his surgeons, either, who broke the stereotype of cold and robotic and terse. Both have spent time with us they probably didn't have. Three cheers for these folks, who know who they are.

Tips for the long haul

Did a search for "the long haul," as in, What do you do when a family member is in for the long haul in their healing? My dad has a long road ahead and today, three days into his awakened state, he's saying he needs to get out of bed and go home. Google came up with things like long flights (such as to Tokyo); or tips for long-distance truck drivers.
It breaks my heart to walk out of his room and leave him behind.
So, here are a few of my own, off the top of my head:
1) Be patient with the patient, and yourself. He (in this case) is struggling to take everything in. Even though you know more about the reality of the situation, you are taking in new realities as well.
2) He is slow to soak everything in, in part because of the post-drug fog; so don't hit him with all the information at once. Let him lead with questions and correct if necessary and when appropriate.
3) Get rest. Eat. Go about your normal routine as much as possible.
4) Pay attention to the visiting hours. They're in place not only for the staff but for the family. Get away as you can and should.

St. Francis Hospital: Of rhythms and rhymes and harmonies

My dad remains in the hospital. Rather a sucky time of year to be in the hospital--but then again, when is it ever good? Not sure what we'll do for Christmas but my main wish is he's alert and doing much better.
My mom and I, and my husband and many others, have been around the place since Saturday. For me, it's enough time to pick up on some more things. Here are more random observations, in no particular order: If you know you're going to St. Francis much later than 8 a.m., it's best to park across the street at Starbucks or Gold's Gym and walk. You'll save a lot of time circling up and down the parking deck.
We have found the staff to be professional and kind and honest and tender, not only with my daddy but with us.
As he's gained hours and days away from his surgery, the nurses and docs don't stay in the room as much. That's a good sign.
Hospital food remains high quality. I'm not that picky an eater but it helps to have decent food when you feel tied to the premises.
Take note: The gift shop is having a 75 percent off sale on Christmas items. This has come in handy.
Surgeries tend to happen in the morning, unless one has an emergency. More people in waiting rooms in the morning and early afternoon.
Just curious: Why is the hallway to the CCU area chilly? There's a noticeable difference between other hallways. Is it to ward off germs?

Advent graces

I've been out of the blog scene the past few days because my dad had emergency surgery Saturday morning.
It was (and still is, to some degree) pretty scary. He remains on a ventilator but is doing well, all things considered.
Basically he perforated a hole in his colon; there was also a mass at the end of his colon that they took out and as I understand it pretty much got the whole colon out too.
If all continues to go well, they'll reattach everything at a later date.
His doctors and nurses are excellent, and he's in great hands. I can't say enough good things about the medical team caring for him.
In addition to that, here are a few graces and observations:

--People are there for you. We have received so much care and love just in the past three days it's hard to articulate and give thanks adequately.

--The main nurse I see every day is a guy named Eric. He treats my dad so tenderly. When he's putting in a new drug or something, he'll say, "Here you go, my friend."

--When you are in a waiting room, that is not the time to jump into another group's conversation and interject your political venom. This happened to us Sunday. Someone in our crew brought up something about President Obama and this man, at least five feet away, yelled out something stupid and stomped out. Dude. Really?

--Hospital food is not as bad as some say.

Advent graces

I've been out of the blog scene the past few days because my dad had emergency surgery Saturday morning. It was (and still is, to some degree) pretty scary. Basically he perforated a hole in his colon; there was also a mass at the end of his colon that they took out and as I understand it pretty much got the whole colon out too. If all continues to go well, they'll reattach everything at a later date.
His doctors and nurses are excellent, and he's in great hands. I can't say enough good things about the medical team caring for him.
In addition to that, here are a few graces and observations:
--People are there for you. We have received so much care and love just in the past three days it's hard to articulate and give thanks adequately.
--The main nurse I see every day is a guy named Eric. He treats my dad so tenderly. When he's putting in a new drug or something, he'll say, "Here you go, my friend."
--When you are in a waiting room, that is not the time to jump into another group's conversation and interject your political venom. This happened to us Sunday. Someone in our crew brought up something about President Obama and this man, at least five feet away, yelled out something stupid and stomped out. Dude. Really?
--Hospital food is not as bad as some say.