Stupid Alzheimer's, Stupid Dementia of All Varieties

I am tired. Exhausted. Done. Depleted of energy. Compared, to my mom, however, I am the Energizer Bunny. 

I've written about my dad's dementia related to Lewy Body Disease, and the last few weeks have been incredibly stressful for our family.  We moved my parents to this area a year ago after 39 years in their house in Corsicana. A year and one day later we moved them out of the assisted living facility because Dad's condition required much more supervision than was available. After several weeks of looking and pricing (egads! The cost of long term care is hideous!), we decided on a new memory care facility that was just opening their second home last week. We had concerns from the beginning...the staff seems young and unprepared for the level of care some of the residents need.  In the last week, things began to crumble. One resident required almost one on one attention, and the most staff they have at a time is two. The needy resident went in and out of rooms, taking things, unmaking beds, and kicking walls. Dad chased her out of his room, and yelled often. After five days, the staff took Dad's cane away from him because he was threatening to hit her and others. 

On Thursday evening, we received a call that Dad had fallen, and the staff felt he needed to be seen by a doctor. I thought we might be able to take him in the car, but when we arrived, we realized he couldn't walk, even with a walker. That did not stop him from trying, though. An ambulance took him to the ER, and after many xrays, we found that had two fractured lumbar along with many bruises.  He is to be in a wheelchair for at least two weeks. We took him back to the facility, and after 20 to 30 minutes of battle, Mom got him into pajama pants and into bed. Mom and I got home around 12:30 a.m. and fell into bed. 

Mom received another call around 6:00 a.m.  Dad had fallen again, and this time he hit his head. The ambulance was called again, and off we went back to the hospital. When we arrived, Dad looked like he had lost a fight with his bloody head and black eye.  We did meet new staff members, since the shift had changed. We were very impressed by the hospital staff. Dad has not been a good patient. In fact, he's been rude to almost anyone trying to help him. He's hit and kicked, and called people names.  This is not my dad, and anyone who knows him understands that. Dementia is worsened by falls and stress. We also feel he may be somewhat dehydrated, and that makes it all worse, too. During the second visit to the hospital, a social worker helped us get Dad into a rehab facility. He will be there for four weeks minimum, and so far, we are waiting to be impressed.  Our prayer is that he can regain his ability to walk with his walker. I cannot imagine trying to keep him in a wheelchair.  When I pushed him down the hall a bit, he kept putting the brakes on. He has some strength but not in his legs obviously.  Mom has very little strength and stamina right now because of the chemo she is still getting (stupid cancer). We are praying she only has two more treatments. 

Meanwhile, back at the nursing home, Billy is doing pretty much the same.  I'm so thankful that he is fairly settled into where he is, and that for the most part, he's happy. I picked him up yesterday afternoon, and he was alert and smiling most of the evening. He speaks so little, that when he says anything I recognize, I get really excited.  We were standing in the foyer after worship last night, and he saw my brother-in-law and nephew walking toward us.  He said, Shawn, my brother-in-law's name. 

The main issue I have with Billy is getting him in and out of the car. A few weeks ago, it took us 20 minutes to get him in. I've learned that it's best if someone else opens the door, and I can just walk him to the door and get him as close as possible, then it's almost like muscle memory takes over, and he puts the correct leg in first.  If I walk him to the door, and stop to open it, it throws him off. Even when I get him in the car, he doesn't understand to scoot over. I sort of stuff him in, and make sure both feet are where I can close the door. He rides in the back seat, so I can use the child locks.  He loves to pull on the door handle. 

It's hard to believe that in January, Billy will have been in the nursing home for two years. I attended his Care Meeting last week, and we talked about the difference in Billy today and Billy then. He's declined so much, but he can still recognize his family and friends, smile and laugh, and he enjoys his meals.  The unit lost another resident last week....Hazel, the lady who insists that she dated Billy many years ago, passed on Wednesday. She had a stroke the weekend before. Another empty bed, but not for long.  Everyday, people are searching for a special place for their mom, their sister, their uncle, their husband.  We don't all find the right place on the first try. We have been blessed with the care Billy receives, and I do not take it for granted. 

Thank you so much for your support of us in so many ways...prayers, walking with us, visiting Billy, monetary assistance, and just asking about him.  

It's Time to END ALZ!

This Saturday, October 26th, marks the fifth year we have had a team in the Alzheimer's Association's Memory Walk. The first year, our team consisted of Billy, Shelley, two of her friends, and me. Each year the team grew, and last year we had our biggest group - somewhere between 40 and 45. This year we have a bit smaller group, but no matter how many, knowing that we are doing something to deal with the anguish of AD makes us feel better. When your loved one has this disease, you find there is really not a lot you can do for them other than try to help them maintain skills and keep them comfortable as the disease progresses. Advocacy helps you feel like you are doing something to help by raising some money and honoring those who have the disease or have died from it. 

This year our list of honorees is shorter than our list of memorials. My prayer is that neither list grows in the next year, but that is unlikely. On the back of our shirts this year:
Honorees                            In Memory of
Billy Knowles                      Aleta Asher
Roark Barnes                      Jacque Carter Pedigo
Curt Morris                         Roberta Hooper
Bill Leavell                         Sarah Sissel
Bobby Lowrey                     Ruby Futrell
Wanda Lehrmann                Mike Henley
Ama Bryant                        David Schwerdtfeger
                                         Chief Loveland
                                         John Sikes
If you are inclined to give to this cause, the link to the website is at the top of my blog on the right hand side. The rotating disk reads Donate to Me. If you click that link, it will take you the Alzheimer's Association website and you will find a place to search for my name. Thank you in advance for any and all donations. We must help to END ALZ!

                                         

The Double Whammy

Don Garrett and Billy Jack Knowles

Billy had a special visitor last week. Don Garrett paid him a visit, and I'm sure I enjoyed it as much as Billy. Don and Billy were buddies in college - playing trombone in the Big Purple Marching Band at ACU.  They were also brothers in their social club (fraternity in layman terms), Kinsmen (Gamma Sigma Phi). It means so much to me when friends visit Billy. It's a hard thing to do...it's not easy to see this person who had such a vibrant personality walk along like a stooped over elderly man, saying very little. When he speaks, he says just a few words, but he often gets his point across. I see Billy all the time, and it's hard, so I know when people haven't seen in him in a long time, it's tough on the heart.  But it is so appreciated. 

It's been a month since I last posted, and thankfully, we've not seen major changes in Billy other than his limited mobility. Last December, a new resident came to live in the unit. She was a year younger than Billy and walked constantly, crying and cursing often. Her husband told me she had been diagnosed with young onset Alzheimer's Disease about three years earlier, and in October she had a huge decline. That decline continued in the nursing home, and she went from walking to stumbling and eventually to being wheelchair bound. Because she was no longer a flight risk, she was moved to the general area of the nursing home. Her husband had heard about Normal Pressure Hydrocephaly (NPH) and was looking for a doctor who would see her. My very simplistic definition is that as the brain literally falls apart in areas, those areas fill with fluid. Sometimes the fluid presses on certain remaining areas of the brain that control walking, speaking, and continence. The resident's husband found a neurologist in Arlington who tests for this and determines if a shunt is helpful in relieving that pressure and thus returning some of those skills on some level. I was skeptical about the procedure, but I was also very curious to see how it turned out.  After several tests and a few months, she had the shunt placed at the back of her neck. It took a few months, but she is now walking as much as she did when she first came to live there. Unfortunately, the administration asked her husband to find a new place for her.  Her emotional outbursts and cursing are considered too disruptive. Obviously she is talking more, but her vocabulary is limited to these tirades. 

I did some research on the procedure, and I feel like I must check into this for Billy just to improve his mobility.  That is the skill that is most likely to be restored, and the improvements can be seen up to six months after the shunt is placed. I have no idea that this is viable for Billy, and I ask for prayers on making the right decision. I have no desire to make him go through anything that is harmful or painful. I'm not even certain how he will respond to the tests. He will need an MRI, and insurance will have to approve everything, so I have several hurdles before knowing if this is an option for him. I appreciate prayers for making the best decisions for Billy. 

This post may be one long prayer request, but our family really needs prayers for decisions. My dad has Lewybody Disease, and his dementia has become much worse in the last several months.  Last November we moved Mom and Dad into an assisted living facility in this area.  It is a type A facility which means it is the lowest level of care for assisted living. It is a nice place, but it is not secure, and they are not equipped for my dad. He wanders out of the apartment when Mom is napping or in the restroom, or anytime really. Dementia patients always seem to be searching for their happy place, and it's hard to find, so they wander. Dad can never find his way back to their apartment. He's often on the wrong floor and wrong end. The staff takes him back to the apartment. A few weeks ago, he went for one of his many walks, and after a few minutes, Mom went to find him. She met the activities director in the hall who helped her look for Dad. As they walked past a window, the director saw him - face down on the sidewalk in the back of the facility. I am amazed at how many times Dad has fallen and NOT broken a bone. The paramedics were called, and they checked him out and felt he was okay.  His face was scraped up, but that was all.  However, it was a big wake-up call for my mom.  We are in search of the best place for my dad, and I know Mom would like to keep him with her somewhere, but I don't know that we will find that place. Mom does not need assisted living, but she also cannot handle Dad's increasing needs. She continues to battle ovarian cancer, and we are praying that tomorrow is her last chemo treatment. I feel like our family has dealt with the double whammy twofold. Billy and my dad both have dementia. Mom and her sister both have ovarian cancer. I've never lost faith, but I've had some questions for God lately. Can we get a break?! 

One of the ways our family has chosen to deal with Alzheimer's Disease is to advocate for research. This is the time of year we get our team together for the Memory Walk on October 26th.  It's also the time I seek donations to the Alzheimer's Association for research. If you can walk with us we would love for you to join our team. If you can give ANY amount, that would be awesome. To do either of them, just click on the link to the right at the top of my blog, and it will take you to my page.  There is a place for you to put in my name, Kathy Knowles, and it will take you to my page. I thank you in advance. 

Peace and love to all. 

Always Adjusting

A happy Billy when he's with family! 

I read a post on Facebook the other day by the wife of an AD victim. She commented that she noticed a difference in him one day, and that generally meant that he would probably go back to his "normal" the next day, but soon the difference becomes the norm.  I identified with that statement completely! Billy goes along as usual, and then one day we notice he can't seem to do something he's been doing. The next day he can do it, but eventually (a fews days or weeks) he loses that skill completely. We've seen that with eating, speaking, and his ability to get around. A big challenge right now is getting him into the car. It used to be second nature to him, and he could buckle his seatbelt on his own. Then I started having to pull the seatbelt down for him, and he could do the rest.  Now, I buckle him in after I finally get him in the car. He struggles to figure out how to get in. I pat his left leg and tell him to put that leg in first. Then he sort of hops over and gets his left hip in and stops. He's heavy enough I can't scoot him over, and when I tell him to scoot over, he doesn't understand. So, I sort of cram him in....lifting his right leg in and pushing his foot in. He gets in just enough to buckle him and close the door. He sort of leans over toward the console throughout the ride. I have to make certain we have enough room on the passenger side of the car because if it's too tight, it's a no go. He needs a little help getting out of the car, but it's easier than the entrance.  I also have to watch him carefully because he has opened the car door several times while I'm driving. Eventually, I will need to put him in the back seat to use the child proof locks unless I can get one on the front passenger door. 

No matter how difficult it is to get him in the car, I still enjoy having him with us at church and family gatherings when possible. And he enjoys being with us. A few weeks ago, the evening nurse called to tell me the psychiatric nurse practitioner who sees Billy regularly felt he was taking too much Seroquel.  I certainly agreed since he often fell asleep before finishing his lunch. They eliminated his afternoon dose, and he is much more interactive now. That has some drawbacks at times, but overall, it's nice to have him more alert and communicative. Typical of the disease, he has some bad days at times. One day recently he was combative and leaning to the left when he sat and walked, but he definitely has more good days than bad. When I picked him Saturday afternoon, he was reading/ looking at a book, and he looked up and waved as I walked toward him. For quite a while, he's been sitting with his head down when I arrived, so I like that he's more aware of his surroundings. 

It's sometimes hard to tell if his behavior changes are related to the disease or the medications. I do remember when his behaviors were so extreme, and I prayed for medication that could help. 

As the brain becomes more damaged during Alzheimer's Disease, it affects speech. I remember Billy's mom would use lots of alliterative nonsense words, and Billy does the same. He repeats a syllable or two over and over, and last night, Shelley and I were thankful we were the only ones in our large group who could hear him saying over and over, "fuca-fuca-fuca-faca..." We looked at each other with shock, and then he stopped. Thankfully!  He meant nothing bad by it, that sound just came to him. You never know which sound will emerge! 

What gives me peace is that Billy does not appear to be in pain, and I believe he is at a point where he does not remember his life before. The most difficult part of this disease for Billy was knowing that he was losing part of himself steadily. He was frustrated and angry, and I was easily exasperated because I didn't know how to help him. He's generally easy to get along with unless someone yells at him or something is bothering him, and he cannot communicate his need. One of the aides is so good with him, and she's definitely my favorite. She works with him to prevent him getting agitated. She takes him to the restroom regularly (luring him with chocolate!), and this prevents him getting wet which in turn leads to agitation. She does a good job of shaving him and getting him dressed. Last night, I could tell that whoever shaved him didn't rinse off the shaving cream, and it was dried and caked in spots. It's the little things that I wish I could do for him, and I can't when I'm not with him. I worry about his teeth. He doesn't remember how to brush and he's not keen on someone brushing them for him, so it doesn't get done the way it should. I guess I have to let that one go, too.

Matt Redman's song speaks to me every time I hear it, and I am so grateful that God never lets go of me, and neither do any of our family and friends. 

Matt Redman sings You Never Let Go of Me

Thank you so much for your prayers, your thoughts, your monetary gifts that come just when we really need them, and your love and concern for Billy and our family. We love you dearly. 

How Are We Doing?

I had dinner with a friend last weekend. We talk periodically but not as often as we once did, so we always have to play catch-up. She asked how Billy is doing, and I gave her my short answer - about the same. Steady decline but no big dips lately. Then she asked how I am, and I told her I'm fine. She looked at me and said, "How are you really? How do you cope with this all the time?" She's been caring for her sister-in-law who is showing big signs of dementia, and she knows some of the stress involved. 

The truth is that I do pretty well nearly all of the time. I don't take credit for it because it's the constant prayers of so many who pray when I'm prayed out. I'm like many of us - I know that I can give all of this to God, and I still try to handle things on my own. There are times, though, that it all gets to me. I had some time to myself this weekend, and I made a mental list of things I miss about my husband. We were like most couples who spend over 25 years together. Some things he did made me nuts, and I feel certain I got on his last nerve at times, but most of all, we enjoyed being together. I miss the easiness of being together. I miss the companionship. During the summer time, couples are taking trips together. We looked forward to our empty nest and having time and maybe more money to travel. Billy felt the continental US had plenty of places to visit, and I agreed. I still like to go places, but I so wish I could share the experience with him. 

I also miss his sense of humor. Billy made me laugh for our entire relationship, and sometimes he still does. He was witty and smart and he could not help himself if he had something funny to say - he had to say it. He cracked himself up! He loved to trade barbs with our brother-in-law, Shawn. 

I miss his mini-lessons on history. That was another thing he couldn't hold back on...if he thought I didn't know something, he had to share it with me or quiz me on it. Every trip we took as a family turned into a lesson about US history in some way. In spite of their complaints, I believe Shelley and Andrew loved it. 

I miss sharing my bed with him - the intimacy of sleeping with someone for 30 years goes way beyond sex. When he would go on a trip, I didn't sleep that well. I missed his breathing. After we moved him into the nursing home, sleeping was harder. I'm accustomed to sleeping alone now, but it's not the same. 

So, I had a pity party the other night, and then I got up the next morning, thought about the all the blessings I have, looked at my puffy eyes (another reason I don't do pity parties too often), and I got back on track. I am thankful to still have Billy here with us. He knows his family and friends even if he doesn't talk. His smile and expressions show that he knows. He laughs readily still. We don't always know why he's laughing, but that's okay. He still hugs us and kisses us, and he makes eye contact. All of those are good things. I also know how blessed I am to have been married to the person I love and who loves me.  Some people don't even like their spouse, and some caregivers are trapped taking care of a spouse that did not treat them well.  I am honored to be the one who cares for Billy. God has known our whole lives how this would work out, and He helped prepare me for that. 

Philippians 4:13  I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. 

The Inevitable

My thumb was in the way, but I couldn't resist the smile!

"I know three people who have got better after brain tumors. I haven't heard of anybody who's got better after Alzheimer's."  Terry Pratchett

When I stay away from visiting Billy for too many days, I struggle with my emotions when I see him again. I don't stay away long, but even several days does it. Not certain why that is, but when I went to see him on Tuesday evening, I had not been for about a week.  I had some surgery last week, and I've not felt like getting out, so I missed him.  For so long the norm for us was that I would show up about 4:45 because he eats at 5:00.  He would meet me about half way down the hall and say something like, "It's about time you got here." Always with a smile.  He was always walking and up. I wondered if I would ever come in and catch him sitting. 

I'm not certain when things changed so drastically. I still arrive at about the same time, and Beverly, one of the residents always sees me first. She reaches out, grabs my hand, and tells me how glad she is to see me - sometimes with tears. I glance around and Billy is sitting at a table, usually with his head down. Tuesday he had about three pages from a People magazine that he was folding and shuffling.  I didn't expect the emotional drop I had. He's been this way, and I've seen it, but somehow several days away, and his condition astounds me.  He sits like he's much older than his 57 years, and he does not jump up to come greet me.  In fact, I don't think he recognizes me until I go over to him and speak.  I pulled up a  chair and asked him a few questions.  He never answered, but he looked at me. By the end of his supper, he was more aware of my presence, especially since I'm the hand that feeds him! I just can't remember when he made the turn. It was gradual, but I've noticed that when a skill is missing one day, it soon becomes the norm. For a while, we helped him eat by just putting food on his fork, and he would pick it up and eat it. Now, you have to take that food to his mouth. 

The memory unit remains a happening place. It seems they make changes daily, and I'm glad they look carefully at it. The unit has 18 beds, and when Billy arrived, they had 18 residents. Of those 18, five remain in the unit, including him. Too many have passed away. Several have been moved out of the unit because they are no longer mobile and at risk to wander. It seems they have new folks almost weekly because there is no shortage of dementia victims. The most recent person to move out of the unit is Donnis.  I'm not certain that he has Alzheimer's because he was much more aware than the other residents. His needs seemed to be more physical, and he is quite territorial and loud. The residents in the unit wander from room to room. They may recognize their room, but they may not.  It's not unusual to find one of them asleep in another's room, but if one got close to the door of Donnis' room, everyone knew it.  He was a career military man and must have been a drill sergeant!  His voice booms.  He does not want anyone touching his stuff, and one day last week, he was waiting for his shower and had put his clean clothes on a chair outside the shower room. Billy wandered along and picked up Donnis' shirt - another common thing that dementia persons do.  They are a bit like toddlers, picking up and observing and playing with things.  Donnis began yelling at Billy (he doesn't do well with yelling) and grabbing the shirt. Billy got a death grip on the shirt and pushed.  Then Donnis scratched Billy, and Billy scratched Donnis.  Not a pretty sight. I always know when I see Lexington Place on my caller id that he has had some sort of incident and probably has a scratch.  This was not the first incident between Donnis and Billy, and I was told they were having a care meeting to find a solution. I like the solution. 

With several residents being moved out, the unit now has several newbies. My favorite is Hazel whom I met on Tuesday.  While I was feeding Billy, Hazel was another table over and said, "Bill. Bill! You said you were going to take me home." Bill(y) did not respond. One of the aides told Hazel that I was Billy's wife.  "I told you he has a wife, and here she is!" Hazel looked at me so sincerely, and said, "I'm so sorry.  I didn't know he was married." I assured Hazel that I was not offended in any way. The next evening, Hazel joined Billy and me while I fed Billy. What a delightful lady! She is not as far along in the disease as Billy, and she can carry on a conversation very well.   She mentioned numerous times that if it doesn't quiet down there (the unit), she is going to have to quit that school and go back home.  (I mentioned Beverly above, and she makes so much noise before dinner. She sort of hums, moans, and sings all in a smoker's rattle at a volume that matches Donnis'. It is beyond annoying, but like everyone else there, she doesn't do it for that purpose.) Hazel told me during our meal that she and Bill(y) went together a while back, and she really liked his family. She looked at me very seriously and said, "You are a lucky lady." I certainly agree. She turned to Billy then to tell him how lucky he is to have me. He smiled which we all know means he agrees! Once again Hazel reiterated how lucky I am to have him, and then she said, "I'm pretty lucky, too.  I have a good looking man at home.  His name is Glenn." I look forward to meeting Glenn, and I really hope Glenn is still around.  So many times, they talk about their relatives in present tense and I learn that they passed away 5 years ago. I have a feeling I'll be sharing Hazel stories for a while, and I pray she stays in the unit for a long time. 

Thank you for reading, praying, and encouraging through this blog and in many other ways.  Alzheimer's is a thief; it is always fatal; and at this time there is no cure. It's time to END ALZ! 

Peace and love. 

Dearest Blog....I have neglected you for low these many weeks.  I should have written many times, but something stopped me. When our son, Andrew, was a child he would go somewhere for several hours or for an overnight visit, and when he came home we would ask what all he had done.  His usual reply was, "Mom, it's just too much to tell." That is how I feel right now. I have too much to tell, so instead of playing catch-up, I will share the here and now and very recent past. Then over the next several posts, I will share some of the highlights and lowlights of the weeks between early May and now.

How is Billy doing?  My usual answer is "about the same"....but that really depends on the last time I've talked to that person or written. I notice changes in Billy in increments of months. He has been about the same for the last 4-5 months. His weight has stabilized at a good number - 180 pounds give or take a few. His lowest weight was about 165, and he didn't look healthy at that weight. With the weight he lost, he lost a good deal of muscle mass. He eats well if he is fed. He is physically able to feed himself, but he will not finish a meal on his own, and he doesn't mind being fed. If we put a bite on his fork, and sit it down on the plate, he can get the food to his mouth. That takes so long, that I prefer to feed him. I go most evenings to feed him and visit, but I take Sundays off. On Saturdays I pick him up and take him to our Saturday evening service at church.  He enjoys being with us, and his behavior has not been too disruptive to do that. Afterwards we have dinner out with family or friends. I usually have him back to the nursing home by 8:00, and he's ready to get back.

Billy's balance and mobility are noticeably shaky. He sort of does the old man shuffle, moving so slowly that the only way he could be slower would be to stand still. His perception is way off, and he struggles with stepping up on curbs. He steps off of them a bit easier, but I hang on to him so he doesn't fall. It seems his depth perception is off, too, and that may have something to do with him not bothering to eat.  When he starts to take a drink, he gets his lips ready for a sip long before the cup reaches his mouth, and as soon as his lip feels it, he knows to take a drink.

One of the hardest things to grow accustomed to is his silence. Billy has always been a talker and a cut-up, and he got tickled easily.  I so miss his laughter. I can remember so many nights when I would go to bed earlier than he and I would hear him guffaw at David Lettermen. It usually made me laugh because he enjoyed it so much.  He talks so little now, and when he does speak, it makes little sense.  Some of his sentences are made up of only nonsense words, but usually they start with sensible words in the correct order and turn into nonsense.  I haven't decided if the nonsense words are usually nouns or adjectives, but he usually gets the verbs correct. When I picked him up tonight, he said, "I like your schlactallack." Or something like that. His mom did the same thing...she used a lot of alliterative nonsense words at the ends of her sentences. He also blurts out complete sentences that make sense, too. Last week, we were having dinner with family, and my nephew got up from the table. Billy looked at him and said, "Where are YOU going?" It surprised all of us. One thing he still says with clarity is "I love you." He doesn't always say it without prompting, but he gets those words correct.

For the most part, Billy has many more good days than bad days. He's pleasant and everyone I talk to at the nursing home comments on his good nature.  One of the other residents who is much more aware than most of the others often tells me that "he's nice." He does get agitated at times, and he doesn't know how to express that, so he has hit at staff members before. On Fathers Day, we took him and my dad to a restaurant for dinner. They had rolls of paper towels in the middle of the tables in very heavy holders. Billy decided to pick up one and squeeze it, and Shelley tried to take it from him. He tightened his grip, and started to tuck it under his arm like a football!  I finally convinced Shelley that it was not a life or death issue, and he was not using it as a weapon. A few minutes later, he released the paper towel holder.  Like most of the residents in the memory unit, Billy's actions are toddler-like. He picks up things he should not like trash. He reaches for other's food or drink. That is the reason units like this can look so sterile and barren....no lamps, pictures on walls, or items sitting around. I love that the unit at this nursing home has fabulous murals throughout that are realistic and homey.

My hope and prayer is that we can keep Billy at this point for a a long while. I've noticed a practice at the nursing home that as residents become less mobile and are not able to wander out of the the residence, they are moved out to the main area. I've learned from some more experienced caregivers, though, that if I don't agree to do that, they won't move him. I want him to stay where he is because he is accustomed to it. He has a routine and the staff to resident ratio is lower, so he gets more attention.

I plan to write more frequently this summer. I have more time right now as I'm off for a few weeks. I remain faithful and give God the glory for giving me strength to face all things with peace and courage.