June

This pictures was made about a month ago. 

Experiences throughout our lives changes our perspective. For so many years, I enjoyed the month of June for many reasons. As a teacher, it was nice to close out the previous school year and know we had a breather before the next year. It usually meant traveling to see family or a brief vacation, Father's Day, our wedding anniversary, my nephew's birthday, and it often signaled a time I would teach a writing institute which I loved doing. 


Several of those events are still part of June, but my perspective on them has changed. I still enjoy that the school year has a beginning and an end. We still celebrate Father's Day in June, but it is a bittersweet celebration. I'm thrilled I still have my dad here to honor on Father's Day, and I know Shelley is happy to have her dad here for that day also, but she is more like a parent to him now. We brought Billy home for Father's Day, and my parents came to visit that day also. We had all of our family here - kids and everyone - and we had a nice simple lunch.  Billy seemed not to recognize this as the house we had lived in together.  Part of that may be due to our multiple moves in the last six years. Before moving here, we had lived in the same house for fifteen years. From what I understand, though, dementia patients often lose their way in homes they've lived in for many years. One of the residents in the unit at LP has been there for a few years, and she frequently asks where her room is. They only have nine rooms and one hallway, so it's not a tricky maze. All the residents' names are on their rooms except for Billy's because he kept taking it off. I found it in his pocket and various places, so I guess they finally gave up. 


Another June event is the anniversary of our son's death on June 6th.  It's been five years since he died, and the pain is more bearable than it was, but you never "get over" the death of your child, and I don't ever want to forget how important he was to us or others. It sort of sneaks up on me, but when it comes, it's amazing how many of the details come back. We do have some great memories of our son, even though he had some really troubled years. I'm thankful for the good memories and laughter Andrew brought into our lives, and I'm thankful he is at peace. 


June is the month Billy and I were married, and it's another day to think about what he doesn't remember. We've been married for 31 years now. When we married, we knew it was for life. We agreed that no matter what came up in our marriage, divorce would never be discussed, and it never was.  I don't remember ever being so unhappy with each other that we would want to part company. We could get very angry with each other, and we argued vehemently at times, but we could always work it out. 


I can now add that this June 2012 has become a month of Alzheimer's Disease taking over much more of Billy's brain. A friend asked me today how long we've been dealing with this. It's been a long time - I first started seeing red flags in the summer of 2001, but the decline was gradual over several years. In the last five years, since true diagnosis, I've seen gradual decline with a few big dips. This last dip has been profound. I've been able to cope through all of the disease, but this last dip has really gotten to me. I find myself feeling sadder and sadder when I visit Billy. I work hard to be upbeat and maintain a positive attitude when I'm with him. For some reason, it hit me harder tonight, and I could not hold back the tears as I visited him. He had no idea that I was upset. He talked and answered my questions, and very little of it made sense. Humor helps, and I can nearly always find it, but I couldn't tonight. One good thing for me is that he still tells me he loves me, and when I told him I loved him tonight, he said, "I love you more." He's said that to me for years. What a blessing. 


The bulleted list below gives a pretty accurate description of what we see with Billy right now. The only one that doesn't really describe Billy is the description of sleep. He sleeps well because he is medicated. The description comes from the Alzheimer's Association website. They describe AD as seven stages. No one really knows how long a person will spend in each stage - it's different for different people. The medical staff is wonderful about seeking answers. When they see a decline they look for infections or reactions to medications. Recent blood work shows that Billy is physically healthy - no infections. He continues to lose weight - almost 25 pounds since January, but he's still a very healthy weight. He eats well, but he walks most of the day. They are adjusting his medications and trying to find a schedule of meds that will help deter his anxiety and nervousness in the late afternoon and evenings. He wrings his hands often, shakes his leg when sitting, and has general anxiety in the evenings. 

Stage 6:

Severe cognitive decline (Moderately severe or mid-stage Alzheimer's disease) Memory continues to worsen, personality changes may take place and individuals need extensive help with daily activities. At this stage, individuals may: Lose awareness of recent experiences as well as of their surroundings Remember their own name but have difficulty with their personal history Remember: It is difficult to place a person with Alzheimer's in a specific stage as stages may overlap. Distinguish familiar and unfamiliar faces but have trouble remembering the name of a spouse or caregiver Need help dressing properly and may, without supervision, make mistakes such as putting pajamas over daytime clothes or shoes on the wrong feet Experience major changes in sleep patterns — sleeping during the day and becoming restless at night Need help handling details of toileting (for example, flushing the toilet, wiping or disposing of tissue properly) Have increasingly frequent trouble controlling their bladder or bowels Experience major personality and behavioral changes, including suspiciousness and delusions (such as believing that their caregiver is an impostor)or compulsive, repetitive behavior like hand-wringing or tissue shredding Tend to wander or become lost I write about my true feelings, but I want all who read this to know that I am okay. I may not be having the time of my life, but I am really doing well. My faith is stronger than ever, and the knowledge that what we have right now on this earth is temporary provides me peace and comfort. I will see my son again, and he will be healthy and praising God. I will be with my husband again - the original unaffected by Alzheimer's Disease husband. I sometimes allow myself to wonder why we are walking through this right now, and I say WE because I do not walk this journey alone. I have the most incredible family and friends who provide a support network for us, and they are just as affected by this as I.  I don't know why Billy has this disease when seemingly his cousins and siblings are not affected by it. He doesn't deserve to have it. Billy was/is not a perfect human being (only one of those walked the earth), but he is the best hearted, do anything he could for a friend or family member, caring, and funny guy I know. As we walk through the unit together on the way to the courtyard, Billy stops to hug or give a pat on the back to at least three of the elderly women who live in the unit. He has a very kind spirit - still. Another wonderful blessing.  I appreciate that you read this, and that you lift us up in prayer. Peace and love to you all. Let's enjoy July!

FATHER'S DAY 2012

Billy has celebrated Father's Day for 28 years, since his first Father's Day in 1984. Shelley was born the August before, and he took parenthood in stride as well as anyone I had ever witnessed....and I had grown up with the best. I have a very special dad, and when my emotions can handle it, I'll post about just how special he is. Billy grew up without a father. His dad passed away when Billy was five years old, and he told me once that he thought a dad was someone who came to visit every other weekend and gave you a silver dollar. 

Billy's dad, Thomas Truitt Knowles, was one of five boys who lost both parents in a car wreck. They were taken in by their aunt and uncle (who happened to be the brother of Ernest Tubb's father, making Thomas and Ernest cousins) who raised them to adulthood. We know very little about the Knowles boys - just what Billy's Granny Tubb told him as he saw her sporadically over the years. Billy did go to visit her at length in her 90s to learn more about his father, and at some point during my unpacking, I hope to find the notes and recordings he took during the visit. Of the five boys, one lived past the age of 40 - Uncle Noble, and he actually had an interest in knowing more about Billy as an adult, but by the time Billy knew that, Uncle Noble was getting older and frail, and may have had dementia. I don't know the reason for the deaths of the other brothers, but Billy's dad died as a direct result of alcohol abuse - his granny told him that Tommy died from Alcohol Epilepsy. I googled the term, and I still don't know that it is a condition, but suffice it to say, he drank himself to an early grave. Billy's sister, Cindy, told us that when Ernest Tubb would come to town, he and Tommy would go out drinking and carousing, and their mom, Aleta, was less than fond of Ernest. While they were not divorced at his death, they were separated, and Billy didn't know his dad well. 

Aleta was a single mom of three children in the 60s - not common for a woman during that decade. She worked hard at a bank for most of Billy's growing up years, and while he remembers her dating some, she concentrated mostly on making a living and caring for her kids. She did remarry when Billy was a junior in college, and Billy grew to appreciate his stepdad, Bill, who had a big blustery personality and loved Aleta with all his heart. 

Billy was a natural from the birth of our kids, and I asked him how he learned about being a good dad. He had to think about it a while because he just did the right things, but when he thought back to it, he knew he had some positive influences, and he also knew that some things had been lacking when he grew up, and he didn't want his kids to miss out because of his absence. When Billy was in elementary school, a neighbor invited him to attend church with him - the Burleson church of Christ, which happened to be in the block behind Billy's house. He enjoyed going to church, and he continued to go and make friends and through the teaching he had at that church, he became a Christian. He could name many of the men in that church who influenced him positively, and his best friends in high school were from church. Ronnie Bryant and Buddy Davis were two he talked about many time, and he was in both of their weddings. Ronnie was in our wedding, and we still see Ronnie and his wife Paula, also a good friend of Billy's from high school, a few times a month. Ronnie's dad was a leader in the church, and Billy thought very highly of him. 

Our kids, Shelley and Andrew, loved doing things with their dad. I will never forget the time when they told me that Dad was the fun parent, and he was. I told them at the time that one of us had to be mature, and I guess it was me! My feelings were hurt a little, but I knew they were right. Billy placed time spent with them over doing chores or paying bills or whatever else might could wait. He worked on projects with them, took them to their practices, and rarely missed a game or a performance of either one. He was the parent willing to chaperone mission trips, band trips, etc. I was the one who didn't mind NOT going. He played pitch with them, helped them with batting (in spite of his left-handedness), and he worked on every Pine Derby car that Andrew ever made. He "helped" them with their science projects, and if they were writing a paper in history, he was better than the internet for information. He could help them pick a topic, tell them all about it, and find resources for them to use. History was his hobby, and his kids were his passion. He told me that he thought his mom had seen him march once in all his years of band. He didn't resent that at all - he knew she was doing the best she could do, but he wanted to be where his kids were. 

One special trip he took with Andrew each year when Drew was a teenager was the Warped Tour. As Andrew became more and more troubled, Billy would say he never should have taken him to the first one. I don't believe taking Andrew to the tour made his issues surface or become worse. I think taking him showed Andrew that his dad was supportive and willing to drive hours to sit in the summer heat for Andrew to enjoy seeing his favorite bands. Billy was not known for being a big spender or a person who planned ahead. More than once, Andrew and Billy spent the night in our van in the Walmart parking lot because he couldn't find a hotel under $200 a night. He saw no need to spend that kind of money when our van had a bed and Walmart had restrooms and a security guard in the parking lot. He would park between RVs, and they slept well.  If Shelley or I had been with him, we never would have done that, but he and Andrew could handle it. 

Billy and Shelley on Father's Day 2012

I despise what Alzheimer's has done to Billy, but I have no regrets about Billy's parenting. He has been a wonderful dad to his kids, and I believe Shelley and Andrew would reiterate that. He was not the perfect parent because none of us are, but he was and is a great dad. He still has his "Dad" moments as my son-in-law, Andrew, said today. When they are leaving from a visit with Billy, he still tells them to be careful. He and Shelley have had a little joke for years where he would say, "Be careful," and she would say, "Careless? Okay, I'll be careless." It started when she was an adolescent, and she would tell her dad to be careful. He would say that to her, and it's been part of their little banter for many years. Just another blessing that we can count. And I need to count them - I get really down sometimes when I see how much Billy has declined, but that can wait for another post, and by then, maybe I'll have a better outlook. Peace and love to you all. Happy Father's Day. 

Things Lost

I've debated with myself this week. How much reality do I want to share in this public forum? I've shared openly about many things, and I've kept some of the details private because they seem too personal. When I started this blog, I wanted to keep friends and family updated on Billy's condition, and I wanted to raise the awareness of Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease. The current term is Young Onset, and I think that is because some people confuse Early Onset with Early Stages, and the two are completely different. I know that I have raised the awareness of this disease for some, and in that in that vein, I share. 

So much is lost with Alzheimer's. At the beginning of this disease, memory loss was the most noticeable of the AD symptoms. As it progressed, Billy lost his confidence. He questioned his ability, but he also denied the severity of the issues he faced. Denial was one of his coping mechanisms. Along the way, he lost his career, his freedom to drive, and he lost his usually calm laid back nature. Although he did not lose friends, he lost the ability to maintain relationships. One of the hardest things to watch is your loved one lose his dignity. Those of us who love Billy (and we are many), overlook these things, but it's still a loss of dignity for him. The only thing that makes it bearable is that I don't think he realizes the extent of it all. When Billy entered the nursing home in late January, Billy could feed himself and he was continent. The nurses and aides assumed he was not, so they started having him wear pull-ups, but they quickly learned he didn't need them. 

It's been a little over four months since he moved in, and his anxiety is much better. He still begins getting somewhat agitated and uneasy between noon and 1:00pm, but the nurse gives him Ativan, he calms down considerably. Once in a while, he remains uneasy for the remainder of the day, but it's rare. While his emotional state has improve, his cognitive abilities have declined rapidly in that time. His speech is noticeably different. He still talks, but his conversations are limited. When I ask him what all he's done that day, he usually says, "Everything." He is able to feed himself, but he needs prompting and help with the utensils. Sometimes, we feed him, and he's fine with that, but I want him to do it for as long as he can. When he stays in the unit to eat, they feed him, and sometimes he won't eat well. When I take him to the dining room, Shelley or I will put the food on his fork or spoon, lay it on the plate, he eats it. We are usually the last ones to leave the dining room because this process takes a long time. I understand why the staff feeds him during the day. They don't have time to go through the process we do. If the food is put in front of him, and he's left to eat on his own, he gets up and leaves the table or he plays with his food and doesn't eat it. Eating is an important activity with AD, and the staff makes it a priority. Fortunately Billy has some extra pounds to keep him going, but he can't continue to lose weight at the rate he's been going. 

A few weeks ago, I noticed an odor that I thought was coming from Billy, but honestly, it's hard to tell when so many of the residents are incontinent. I am blessed/cursed with an incredible sense of smell, and I quickly learned that Billy was the culprit. He had no idea. I hoped it was just a random occurrence, but over the next week, he had several "accidents," and it was time for pull ups. Changing him is what I imagine wrestling an alligator would be without the danger. He gets confused about what is happening, and he doesn't understand simple commands. It is less than dignified for him. For the nursing home staff, it's no big deal, and it's part of the progression of the disease. The majority of the residents in the unit are incontinent. But for us, it's one more loss. It also poses a dilemma for taking him out. He does pretty well going to church with us on Saturday evening and then to eat with family or friends. Up until a few weeks ago, he could go to the restroom by himself, but he really cannot do that now. My friend, Karen, went through this with her husband. He needed assistance for a good while before placement in assisted living, and she grew to appreciate places that had family restrooms. I'm learning they are not plentiful, and when I asked about one at church, I found that they don't have one either. I guess I'll cross that old threshold or restroom door when I'm faced with it. 

I've also had to let go of doing his laundry. I've done his laundry each weekend because I'm particular about how it's done. I also know how mixed up the clothing gets even though all his items are labeled. I often come in to find him in someone's sweat pants that don't belong to him. Even when he has clean labeled clothing in his closet, someone dresses him in those. I like for Billy to look nice; that was always important to him, and doing is laundry ensured that his things were cleaned and spots treated. I can only do it once a week, though, and he has accidents almost daily. The first week after this issue started, I brought home his clothes and was bowled over by the odor. This week was some better, but he ran out of clothes, so I've let that go. The nursing home has staff that does the laundry daily, and they pick up clothing twice daily. I know they can do the laundry as well as I can....I just hate to let one more thing be out of my control.


This disease changes everything about the person who has it, and the people who love and care for them. I know people who pray God will take their loved one home when they've  been in the final stages for so long. I am not at that point yet, but I completely understand it. I am so thankful for what we do still have with Billy. He recognizes his family and close friends. He still laughs and often interacts - he may not make sense, but he does interact. He remains one of the nicest people around. He thanks everyone for anything they do for him, including changing him. In case I've not mentioned it in a while, I hate Alzheimer's Disease, but I will always love this man who is changed by it.


Peace and love to all of you.

Hard to See

I typically don't post twice in one week. Part of that is because I don't always have the energy, and sometimes it's because things don't change that quickly. Then sometimes, I get hit in the face by the changes that have been subtle on a daily basis, and my heart wrenches. Today was one of those days. 


I had a Care Meeting for Billy today. The social worker, director of nursing, and activity director all met with me. They wanted Billy to join us, and I agreed. The activity director, also named Kathy, went to get him. As she brought him around the corner, I saw him being led by her. He walks so slowly now - like a very old man, and you have to pull him along. His gait seems normal and balance is okay. I have no idea why that has changed. Just part of this lovely disease. It's also hard to get him to sit down. It's a disconnect between his brain and legs, I think. He does finally sit down, but it's a big change from what it was. 


The nurse explained to him that we were meeting to make sure he was comfortable and that all things were going well for him. He responded, but it didn't make a lot of sense. When prompted, he says he likes it there. He eats well, and yet he's lost almost 20 pounds since January 24th. We certainly are not concerned about him being too thin because he had some weight to spare, but I do hope his weight loss slows. 


The hardest part for me to see is his inability to respond to questions well. The nurse asked him what he taught when he was a teacher, and he looked around for a moment, then he pointed at the table and said something about a green square. I said, "You taught history, and you really liked teaching US history the most." He nodded. And you know what he said...."I still do." A few minutes later, the social worker asked him his birthday. He looked at me, and I waited to see what he would say. He finally said, "Twelve, twelve, twelve." I told him that his birthday is on the twelfth, and I asked him if he knew the month. He thought for a moment and said Julie. I corrected him and confirmed that it is in July. He realized he had said it wrong, and he tried again, but he couldn't get the word July out. 


The hardest part of the meeting was signing a DNR for him. I've tried to talk to Billy about this for a few years, and when I knew he could understand, he would say he wanted to think about it. Obviously, he cannot make those decisions for himself now. I feel strongly that if God decides to take him home, I will not stand in the way. I'm in no hurry, and the thought of Billy not being here is too hard to imagine. But in so many ways, he's not here now. His eyes have that far away look, and he knows to respond to questions, but many times he doesn't fully comprehend what he's being asked.


He does make us laugh still - intentionally sometimes. But it's often because he just says what pops in his head. Last week, we were at my sister-in-law's (Jerris') house for a graduation reception to honor my nephew, Cory. He just completed his bachelor's degree and plans to be a band director. Cory has been in DCI for several years in the summer, and we often watch dvds of his performances. Billy had just finished eating, and Jerris asked him if he would like to move to the living room and watch a dvd of Cory marching. Without a moment's hesitation, Billy said, "Not really, but I will." Jerris looked so surprised, and I just had to laugh. I looked at her and said, "no filter." We just had to laugh. 

Still a Teacher

Anyone in education knows that this time of year is busy, stressful, and exhausting. That would describe my last few weeks, although this past week offered enough time for me to see Billy each day. The week before was packed, and I didn't see him from Monday until Friday - a long time for him and for me. 


This week was a good one for Billy also. He interacted with us each day, and he was usually happy. According to the nurses, he's had more anxiety than usual this past week and required more medication for it. By the time I saw him in the evenings, he was usually calm except for one night. He was worried or concerned, but he could never articulate what it was. When I spoke with the evening nurse, he said that one of the other residents had followed him around all afternoon, and that seemed to agitate him. It's so hard to communicate with him now, and that's frustrating. Our conversations are superficial at best, but it's always important to him that I know how much he cares for me. 


In the last few months, several people at the nursing home have asked what career Billy had. He's always been there when they asked, and I would say, he was a teacher. Each time, Billy corrected me and said, "I still am." The same thing happened tonight as we had dinner with some long time friends. Billy has known them since he was a child, and we all ran around together as young married couples. We moved away from the area when our kids were very young, and after twenty years in another part of the state, we returned to this area. When we left the area, Billy was in management with a retail nursery that transferred him, and when we returned he had been teaching school for some time, and they asked him how long he had taught school. He was very quick to say, "I'm still teaching." I remember the time when Billy knew he had Alzheimer's, and it was so hard for him. He was angry and frustrated, and he really didn't believe he needed to quit teaching. We've reached a point where he doesn't know, and I think it's easier for him. 


Billy's been living in the nursing home for almost four months, and in that time, his cognitive level has declined so much, but he's strangely happier. Several factors play into that I believe. His life is much more routine. He has a set schedule every day, and he doesn't have to be concerned about how he will get somewhere. No more riding the bus or being concerned about getting picked up. He also has constant medical supervision, and that has helped get his medications where they work more to his benefit. When he came to live here in January, he still had some grasp on reality, and as the disease progresses, he is less aware of reality. While that saddens me, it also relieves some of his anxiety. 


I've not mentioned the financial side of this disease in a while. Billy was accepted into the nursing home on Medicaid Pending status which meant that the financial director of the home felt confident that Billy would definitely qualify for Medicaid benefits, and that when we could apply and he was accepted, the nursing home would be compensated for the time he's been there. The only part I would have to pay would be his applied income which is basically most of his annuity he receives from Teacher Retirement System of Texas. It's not much, but it has certainly helped make ends meet since the time he had to quit working. It helped with his daycare costs, but it didn't come close to covering it all. I turned in my portion of the Medicaid application along with required documentation in March. The nursing home financial director actually submitted the forms (as is the practice), and he submitted the information they are required to turn in. I received a call about six weeks later from the person who was processing the application. She told me that this was the only application she remembered processing that had all the documentation needed from the family - in our case it was 100 pages. However, the nursing home had not given them a form to document that Billy's entrance into the nursing home was a medical necessity. She had tried to reach the financial director to have that submitted and had been unable to do so. She was calling me to ask why Billy is not on Medicare. I got to tell the long story of why Billy's not on Medicare (or social security disability) AGAIN! Of course the VAST majority of residents in a nursing home - no matter the age - are on Medicare, and if you are on Medicare, the transition to Medicaid is basically showing you have financial need. Because Billy is under age 65 and does not receive Medicare, he must have this letter showing Medical Necessity. She told me that it appears that Billy does meet the financial qualifications for Medicaid benefits, but without the very important missing document, it would be denied. About a week later, I received a letter denying Billy Medicaid benefits. I can apply again, and if all the paperwork is correct, he should qualify. I have to fill out the application again (about 10 pages), but I do not have to submit the documentation again. I remain hopeful. Frustrated and weary - but hopeful. 

ROLLER COASTER WEEK

What a week! One sign of a tough week is when you wake up on Wednesday thinking it should surely be Friday. The roller coaster with Billy started last Friday. I got to the nursing home too late to take him to the main dining room, so after he finished dinner, we sat in the little TV room for a while. He was unusually quiet and distant. He answered questions when I asked, but the answers made little sense. He batted at something in front of him, and I thought it must have been a gnat. I asked him what he was hitting at, and he said, "a magnet." I didn't respond to his comment but continued to sit with him and watch Everybody Loves Raymond. He doesn't laugh at all the right times anymore because he doesn't really engage in television, and if he does hear something funny, it doesn't seem to register for him. He swatted again, and I knew I hadn't seen anything. "Another magnet?" I asked. He shook his head and said, "cigar." This is new territory for me. I ignored the next swat. 


One of the sweet little residents who talks non-stop in the same tone, smiles, and claps her hands, joined us like she does each evening. Billy usually just smiles and responds to her with a nod. That evening, he seemed annoyed with her, and he responded with something that made no sense, and he didn't smile at her. I left soon after because I really couldn't take it anymore. 


I'm sure part of my sadness was from losing our friend, Shelley Reep, a few days earlier and putting my initial grief on hold. I'm pretty good at compartmentalizing my feelings. When I'm at school, we have enough going on that I can easily become engrossed in all that it entails, especially this time of year. Deadlines for so many reports and evaluations, homework for principals' meetings (boo!), closing out this year and planning for next year. The list goes on and on. After I get away and start thinking about life outside of school, it hits me that I have some things to deal with. 


The next day, I was concerned about taking Billy to church because the previous week, he would just talk out, and Shelley and I would remind him to be quiet. This Saturday, though, he was fine. No talking out.  After church, we went to my sister's to have supper all together - something we've not done in a long time. Billy was in rare form - silly is the best description I can think of for his behaviors. He made faces, he commented about most everything anyone said, and his comments were so completely off base, that we would laugh. More than once, I wanted to cry because it was so random, but like I said, I can compartmentalize for a while. The dam breaks later, though, and I feel that pain you feel when you know someone or something you have cherished is no more. 


Something I've come to know in the last few years is that we get little previews of what is to come. I'll see a new behavior and think that maybe I didn't see it correctly. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.  Then we'll have a few days where we don't see that behavior, but it usually comes back. Billy was in pretty good spirits Saturday through Monday. I had a meeting on Tuesday evening and couldn't get over to see him, so Shelley spent dinner with him. Later in the evening, she was really down about his his demeanor...she felt he was somewhat unresponsive and distant. 


I know exactly what she's describing. Gary Reiswig wrote The Thousand Mile Stare, a book about his family where Familial Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease is prevalent. He describes how the family members get a look in their eyes as though they are a thousand miles away. I see it in those residents who are further along in their disease than Billy. They look in your direction, and they look right through you. Billy's eyes have been different for a few years now. His vision is fine, I'm sure, but when you see his eyes, they have a different gaze about them. We've had a preview of that distance a few times now. When we went on Wednesday, he was back to his happy silly self with dancing silverware, and he's been that way the rest of the week. But we've had our preview, and we know what is coming. 


On a lighter side, the unit has three new residents - all women and all interesting and challenging in their own ways. God bless the sweet people who work with them for hours each day. I was reminded of how Billy has changed in the three months he's been there. He's so much calmer than he was, and he is so much less aware than he was. The disease marches on, and we cannot stop it. He still knows his family and close friends, and even though so much of what he says is nonsense, he says, "I love you," often and sincerely. Thank you, Lord, for that blessing. 

In Honor of Shelley Reep

Today's post is different. A dear friend of mine, and so many others, has a new home in Heaven, and I know she has not stopped smiling since she arrived. She no longer has the pain and physical limitations she has had for some time due to cancer. One thing I've found to be true....knowing that someone has gone on to join the Lord and wouldn't want to come if they could does not diminish our pain when they leave. I've got a new hole in my heart because Shelley won't be posting on Facebook anymore. She won't send me an email to check on Billy or me. She won't Like my Facebook posts and blog anymore. My heart hurts, and I know her mom, brother, sister-in-law, and precious niece and nephew feel it more deeply than I.  They were her world, and she was theirs. 


I met Shelley when I was a very green first year assistant principal, and she was the fifth grade math teacher. We had a small campus with three fifth grade classrooms taught by Shelley, April, and Anna. What a blessed group of fifth graders we had! In the two years I was there, I grew to love the entire campus - students and teachers, but I was especially close to this group.  Several of us who had worked at this campus at different times formed the Playground Committee, and met every few months to have dinner for the next several years. 

Burnet Elementary Playground Committee
Shelley is second from left on the second row.

Shelley was the type of teacher who knew her students beyond the classroom. She cared about their families and their lives. She knew if they played sports or took dance classes. She was busy most weekends attending sporting events of her students. She made no excuses for her students, and she didn't allow them to make excuses for themselves. They were in her class to learn math concepts, and she would ensure that happened. She held them all to high expectations, and they lived up to them. Nobody wanted to disappoint Ms. Reep. Shelley became a leader of teachers in her school district, and some of her students have become teachers because of Ms. Reep. She has been honored as a leader in education in the state of Texas. 


In the midst of Shelley's battle with colon cancer, she was constantly concerned about others. She kept in touch about Billy's status, and when we made the decision to place him in a nursing home, she wrote my Shelley several times to check on how she was doing with this change. She kept up with her friends and how they were doing. No wallowing for Shelley. When she decided to stop treatment and enjoy a better quality of life, she traveled with her family and enjoyed everything she could with them. What wonderful memories this made for them, and what joy it brought to her. 


Shelley taught us all through her life, through her illness, and through her last days on earth. I am better for knowing Shelley Reep, and I am honored to have called her friend and sister in Christ.