Sunday, November 23, 2014

Unsure what to call this

3 a.m. and I'm wide awake.

At first I was thinking about how confused I am.  So I googled the definition of confused and it was all about being bewildered, addled or disoriented.  At times, I'm a little bewildered at why Luther is sick.  Sometimes, when I'm trying to cook, I feel disoriented.

But this isn't the feeling I have.  I'm not confused about this situation.

I think I'm stuck.  Maybe uncertain?

un·cer·tain
ˌənˈsərtn/
adjective
  1. not able to be relied on; not known or definite.
    "an uncertain future"
    synonyms:unknown, debatable, open to question, in doubt, undetermined, unsure, in the balance, up in the air; More


haha!  That might be it:  an uncertain future. Even more though:  "I was uncertain how to proceed."  I think that IS it.

It's a weird feeling.  I've never really been a take charge, have a ten year plan kind of a person. You'd think I'd be prepared for this situation --going with the flow.

This is so so so different.  It's stuck in limbo between planning and not planning.

Luther and I thought we'd live in my little house, keep working, save some dough and live happily ever after.

I'm trying really really hard to stay positive.  To look at the good.  I feel a little stuck in.... not the bad but the in-between.  Like if I don't move, I'll be ok.  If I hide out in the house, nothing can hurt us.  I know this is the most false sense of security.  At times, though, it feels safe.

Time to try to get some sleep.  Even falling asleep feels uncertain.





Thursday, November 20, 2014

Happy Anniversay

Last year on this date, we got the official ALS diagnoses.

This was one of my first posts:

I'm scared of everything. 

We got the official you're going to die from ALS diagnoses a week ago. 

Many months ago, when we first heard about ALS as a possibility, we spent a couple days in disbelief.  My guy couldn't go home after work.  We went out and talked about death and plans and stayed up crying until all hours. 

Everyone told us to stop it -- stop googling info, stop scaring ourselves.  When the guy told the doctor at Mayo it felt like this weirdness was spreading from his arms in to his right leg, her actual response was:  is this a google diagnoses?

So we did, we stopped second guessing, we stopped talking about it, we stopped thinking about paralyzation, feeding tubes, death.  We held on to hope that this would be an awful disease but not terminal. 

Now we know it's terminal. 

I can't see beyond this moment.  Right now.  I'm scared that he'll tell me he can't walk today. That he can't swallow.  I'm scared when I hear him cough, he'll start choking and I won't know how to help him.  That he's going to fall down in the shower and I won't be there to get him up.  That he's going to start to die before my very eyes. 

It makes me afraid to drive, afraid to work, afraid to make small talk with friends. 

What do I do now?
--------------------------------------

We've come a long way.  I don't ask myself what do I do now as much.  I'm not as scared.  I can see beyond this moment but I generally choose to stay in this moment because it's good to be here, right now, with him.

He's fallen down many times in the last year and I know how to get him up.  I've fallen down many times!!  Mostly emotionally.  But I know how to ask for help.  I know how to get up.

You hear about "average life expectancy" with ALS:  2 - 5 years. The fact we have one year down looms over us.  And yet, it's looming far away.  It's not standing next to us, casting a dark, scary shadow.  Every day is a gift.  

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Update

The best news:

Luther's gained 8 pounds!

ALS is a muscle-wasting disease, which basically means your muscles die.  It's not like he can go to the gym and lift weights and get them back.

The more weight you lose, the faster an ALS patient dies because it just makes you weaker, faster.

So yay!  After losing 50 pounds in the first 9 months of testing and diagnoses, he's been pretty stable and now, gaining weight is good.

Better news:

His swallowing hasn't gotten worse. 

This is pretty major!  Think about NOT being able to swallow and what that might be like.  No eating, no drinking, you could choke on your spit - that's when the dying faster part kicks in.  

I've been pretty worried because I've noticed Luther's words slurring a little and his coughing is OUT OF CONTROL.

Luther and I never fight because he's too cool of a cucumber to engage in a fight. But today, we had something that came close to looking like a fight.  

We were in with the speech therapist (who looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch model, by the way) and of course, Luther would not cough.  Bo (yes, that's the speech guy's name) even fed him graham crackers to get him to cough and no go.  

It makes me feel like I'm crazy.  I hear Luther coughing and choking and I see his face getting red and making weird coughing faces and I worry.  He's all like "I have no idea what you're talking about."  Wait... what?   Luther doesn't think he coughs at all.  His coughing wakes me up, for heaven's sake.

The good news is his coughing is NOT related to swallowing issues.  Bo thinks it's due to acid reflux which IS due to the extra saliva building up as well as smoking (that's a whole 'nother lecture) and drinking coffee.  Fortunately, there's some medication Luther can take as well as the whole stop smoking campaign I'll be waging.

The not so good news:

His mobility is worse.  That's been clear over the last month.  He's fallen twice, he can't get up out of a chair anymore, his arms and hands are basically useless.  A month ago, he could feed himself if he ate finger foods (remember the pronto pups from previous posts?).  Now, someone has to feed him.

His legs have some strength and he can walk, just not very far.

On a related note:  because his hands are so weak,  they're putting a "foot drive" on his wheelchair. Right now, he uses a joystick on his armrest and his hand cramps up.  Next Monday, they're putting something on his foot rest which allows him to drive the wheelchair.  Cool!!

What his loss of mobility means is I need to stop working.  We've chosen to stop using a home health care worker because we've had so many bad bad bad ones.  Because we're leaving in January to head south, we decided not to continue going through health workers for the next two months.  

I thought reducing my hours to around 25 hours a week would be good.  It isn't.

The therapists expressed some concerns over leaving Luther alone - which I do for a few hours when I work.  I do have people coming in to check on him for an hour or so but not stay with him.  If he couldn't get up out of his chair or had to go to the bathroom or fell down... well, it would be awful.  

The idea of not working at a job - a career - I've built over the last 17 years is just a whole different blog post.  

I'll just leave it at my perspective is changing - HAS changed.  

It should be so simple, right?  My husband is dying and I want to spend every single second with him. 

There are a zillion million things at play - work, finding time, being emotionally tired, getting affairs in order, grocery shopping, packing to leave - things that keep me from spending time with him.  

But you know what?  I'm trying to cut through the bullsh*t and make it simple.  Wait. That's a bad word.  Cut through the stuff we are never really exempt from doing - the way life just goes on with or without us.  Sometimes it feels really really hard but none of us really gets a pass from making dinner or cleaning the house or feeling emotions (I try sometimes but... those dang emotions tend to squeak out...)  I never ever want to look back and remember I was at work or I was too tired to be with Luther.  

Ok wait.  This post isn't about me.  Funny how that works.

Overall, Luther is good.  Luther is GREAT.  I can - we can - deal with his not moving issues.  Sure, it's a struggle to adjust but many people live with some form of paralysis.  There are nifty gadgets to help get him up, get him out.    The fact he has maintained his weight and his swallowing / breathing hasn't changed is most excellent news.  

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Taking a blog break.

I suppose when I write things other people read, I open this stuff up for scrutiny.

I think I'm going to take a break.

We have a clinic coming up Nov 18 -- an all day visit to the VA to see how Luther's doing.

I'll post how he's doing then.


Saturday, November 1, 2014

Some things you don't want to see...

Do you want to see your future?   Good, bad, ugly??

This is what going to a support group is like.  Or watching or reading something about ALS.   It's hard to hear or see what's in store.  It's hard to hear how tired or desperate or angry people are. Sometimes it's even hard to hear or see people being awesome!  Hard in a different, sort of raw and emotional way.

We decided not to see the ALS movie "You're Not You" for a couple reasons:

I don't want to watch a movie star depict the life we lead.  Neither does Luther.  I'm glad for the awareness, for sure (although I don't think the movie is too popular...).   But it's never really the life we lead - that would never make a great movie.  I'm sitting here in my long undies and a sweatshirt, Luther's downstairs watching college football.  We don't have a kooky home health care worker leading him on crazy adventures.

There are enough real life documentaries to watch, to support, to spend our time opening our hearts to this struggle:

Patrick O'Brien's had ALS for 10 years.  10 years!!!  He's been filming his "journey"  (I hate that word - like it's some adventure down the yellow brick road) - he's been filming his disease.  The documentary is coming out later this year.

http://time.com/3160305/living-with-als/

Hope for Steve.  I follow this couple on Facebook.   Her attitude toward being a caregiver changed my perception of the choices I make in the face of living with ALS.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Documentary-Hope-for-Steve/195021390697220

This is the story of Tempt One - a 30 year old graffiti artist.  The first link is an recap of the amazing technology that's come out of his disease called the Eye Writer.  The second link is the documentary.

http://www.fastcocreate.com/1679433/getting-up-how-a-locked-in-graffiti-artist-inspired-the-impossible

http://gettingup-thedoc.com/

We'll continue to go to support groups.  I go to therapy - which, at times, is like going to the gym.  I never want to go but I'm glad I did once it's over.  I get tired of facing things, of talking about ALS. But facing those fears or anger is good.  It lets it out and gives us space and time for the good stuff.






Thursday, October 30, 2014

Pick a cliche

Feeling the immensity of ALS a few nights ago but the last couple of days have been mundane, back to "normal" and for that, I'm grateful.

I'm upstairs, watching some goofy reality show and he's downstairs, hanging out.  We're leaving soon to get his haircut, I'm going tanning (I know!  tanning...) and then we're getting pedicures.  Important, mundane stuff.

Life moves on whether I'm hiding under the covers or fully present.

So pick your cliche of the day:

Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Live today is if it's your last.

Dance like no one's looking.

Be happy for this moment.  This moment is your life.

Cherish yesterday.  Dream tomorrow.  Live today.

Life is like a bicycle, in order to balance, you must keep moving.

Your struggle is simply a part of your story.

Tough times don't last, tough people do.

We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life we have waiting for us.

Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.

Just keep going.

Pick your cliche.  There are 1000 more.  Whether it comes naturally or I have actually say it over and over and over until it comes true - TODAY IS A GOOD - WAIT!! MAKE IT A GREAT DAY!!

My last cliche of the day:  fake it 'til you make it.....

Monday, October 27, 2014

Overwhelmed, under the covers...

The life I had is gone.  The life I thought I was going to have will never happen.

When Luther got sick, I questioned whether I'd be able to live up to this illness.

Tonight, I don't know if I can.

Tomorrow, I will, but tonight, I don't know what to say, what to do to make this any better.  How do I make Luther feel better?

I got in to bed with Luther tonight, his little twin hospital bed and put my arms around him.  I started to cry and then realized he couldn't turn over to face me.

He couldn't even reach down to touch my hand so I had to stop crying so he wouldn't feel any worse.

I get it, I understand that aren't any guarantees.  I know there are people worse off than us.  The world doesn't stop because Luther's sick.

We have a zillion decisions to make.  Some are financial. Some are very personal.  Some we can't make alone and some we don't want to share.  Much of this hinges on the future -- a future that is cloudy and uncertain.  A future I want to be bright and happy and full of things crossed of the bucket list.  How do we balance financial stuff and bucket lists?

Plus I can't cook.  That's been on my mind.  How do I keep Luther fat, staving off more muscle degeneration if I can't figure out how to menu plan.  Popcorn for dinner is ok with me.  It's like sudoku or quantum physics.  My fridge becomes a big black hole.  I've been trying to make slow cooker chicken and dumplings for a week but I have to time it just right to be home an hour before it's done so I can throw in the dumplings.  Just typing that made my brain freeze.

That was a stupid sidebar, I'm trying to take my brain off this emotional tsunami.  Ugh.

What I realize the most is how much my life is changing.  How much I have to change.  How much I have to take on in order to create a good life for Luther.  Tonight I bugged him, I nagged him, I brought up some really tough issues.  Stuff we are both responsible for but I put it on him.  It wasn't fair but I did it out of being scared, feeling insecure.

I think it's time to get under the covers.  Just for tonight.  Pull them over my head and hope to keep the ALS demons at bay.

Tomorrow's a new day.