In my first post I introduced myself and my current symptoms. Today I'd like to share one symptom that leaves me swinging from branches in the Lewy Body Dementia (LBD) Tree of Life.
After reading this and the posting that will follow, I'd really like feedback from others as to their experiences with my new symptom.
Trying to reach you ...
I've tried, and my grandson has tried to post my first blog report in the past few days. I selected a design page, modified its composition and colors, saved it and went to write the first post, added images, used colors for display and text and felt successful until I discovered THERE IS NOT NECESSARILY CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN THE RULES AND THE RESULTS (perhaps only for me and my expert "techie" grandson Matt - a young adult).
First my design did not combine with my post. Rather, my post was placed (by this system) onto a generic display option originally selected in PREVIEW mode. But thinking I had somehow misplaced my design (after all I suffer from LBD), I left it for a few days and came back to it all when I felt my thinking was clearer.
I won't bore you with the additional details, but when Matt put his expert mind and hands into my blog world, he too found actions he took, did NOT produce the expected results. He kept at it for about an hour and eventually all came together and he checked my laptop and HIS phone and could clearly see what I'd created and written appeared online. He said it looked "professional". It still refuses to show up on my laptop, but does on my phone. I was glad for his approval. Years ago I actually designed nonprofit websites, so I had thought this blog would be a piece of cake.
The laugh's on me!
Next morning I went online to look at my site and to begin to share it with the world.
The correct display was present, but not a word nor an image from my written post.
I'll keep trying. I'm a determined woman! When a posting miracle happens, the world will know I've succeeded.
NOW... Back to the Intent of This Second Posting.
My most disturbing symptom of late has been emotional control. Please don't imagine I'm shouting at people as yet, nor having temper fits. No, those I've learned to bury deep inside while I was married and raising all those children.
My emotional surprise has been CRYING!
#1 CRYING JAG
My first "irrational, out of control, and disproportionate emotions to the situation" (my RN daughter stated during the event) outburst took place as I began my gardening one morning (I think it was morning). The day previous I had found such joy in a tall, lonely asparagus rising bravely from the soil. I'd planted it a year earlier. But, according to my "new" garden plot plan, asparagus was coming up (yes, a surprise) in a spot that was now too close to my makeshift greenhouse to be safe from accidental tramples.
I had taken the roots of the asparagus, potted them for protection until I had another plot spot for them. I carefully placed the pot in what I believed was a safe location, because the roots were my brave babies and so precious.
NO, solving the crime did not end the tears. I was moving about the backyard, crying and crying without any feeling I could cease. My adult granddaughter joined her mother and they stayed a distance from me (perhaps I had done something????). They tried reasoning with me. But to my recollection I was irrational!!!
I'm not stating these facts to be rude, unkind, or fault-finding. When "Geri's" true mind returned, she too knew something was not "right" with her tearful outburst. But it truly is ALL I can remember. I don't recall how the crying ended, how long it lasted or any other details.
#2 CRYING JAG
After going through an incredible volume of tears in the rapid, unplanned (on my part) departure from my RN daughter's home, I, 5 or 6 days later (after living in motels) knew I should seek accommodation. I sought out possibilities (limited in a very small town) and after a visit to a new doctor, it was recommended I try a senior's facility.
I've since been told my daughters believed they should avoid participating with my long term accommodation planning. They wanted me to be independent and to be in control of my situation.
I drove myself between communities, to medical appointments, found the right forms and had the physician sign them, met with staff at the senior's facility to ascertain if the facility would be an appropriate placement (based upon all the LBD symptoms cited by the physician and which I offered in the first post) and the following day I moved in. The crying during this transition was more than I can truly recall. I know it went on for days.
#3 CRYING JAG
Crying was intermittent after situating in the facility, but this next incident, even to me, was "crazy".
One evening, weeks later, I was going to miss the last meal of the day. We are supposed to let kitchen staff know and I did. I could see the evening menu included BACON. It was written on the white board with other menu items. BACON is so, so, so seldom offered here because it's unhealthy for us, according to the government dietitian ??? in this final season of our lives???
I asked one of the lovely staff members to save my bacon for another meal (thinking breakfast). So when we were being served breakfast, I asked for the cold, refrigerated, plastic wrapped, saved bacon from the evening before. The server quickly let me know I could NOT ASK FOR BACON. She said, if I did so, others would do so and it wasn't on the menu.
I burst into tears, at the table with five "almost" strangers, and walked like a crying piggy to my room.
The server was at some point given the facts by people at the table, and a short time later she showed up at my room, bacon in hand with an accusation about the shortfall of the staff member from the previous night. She tried to make herself out as the victim and restated bacon isn't good for us, and shoved the bacon into my hands, and left.
It only upset me more after she stated she'd never made anyone cry in her 23 years of working with the facility (found out later that was NOT TRUE) added to the "bacon is not good for us".
Something inside me (still crying), a short time thereafter, wanted to make a statement to our facility manager. I arrived at her door, still crying, bacon in hand! I dumped the bacon on her desk, stating, "if it's not good for us, then here have it back". I recall her reassuring voice trying to explain to me about the government dietitian, and attempting to make sense about some government third person actually making a good decision for any of us.
I do recall stating harshly that if keeping us healthy means depriving us of things we intermittently enjoy eating, because it might kill us, that supposed discretion was both nonsense and irrational. People in this facility range in age (save one person) from 80 yrs to 97 yrs of age. We've been making eating/dietary decisions for decades while still enjoying food (when we could afford what might give us joy) without any dietitian keeping us healthy. My senses tell me there might be some facility cost considerations in dietary decision making. I'm confident saying this because I've never seen so much processed food on my plate, ever!
The bacon crying jag lasted about 4 to 5 hours ... it was exhausting.
Part #2 of the R.C.M.P. Adventure ... will detail how CRYING can find you in the back seat of a police vehicle (behind the bars). Please tune in for post #3.
RCMP
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