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This is the Dixie Chicks song, Silent House. It's about Alzehimer's Disease. I wrote the lyrics and more about my Grama, here.

Listen to "Silent House"

Silent House - I Will Let You Forget

My Grama has Senile Dementia, (ADT). I've been taking care of her since 1998. She was diagnosed sometime around 2000. They only know that it's "Altzheimer's type dementia" because the medication helps. It's the late onset kind, which is good. She's 88 now.

We had to remove the knobs on the stove about 5 years ago, when she kept forgetting she wasn't allowed to use the stove and trying to cook. She can still scramble eggs in a bowl and then nuke them most mornings, although she sometimes overcooks them and I have caught her spooning them up raw. (Last week she put catsup on the lovely oatmeal with raisins and applesauce I'd made her for breakfast) On the days I don't prepare a lunch for her, I put a can of progresso or one of the other things she likes, chili or ravioli on the electric can-opener (that was in her kitchen for as long as I can remember) and holler to her that it's there whenever she wants to eat.

I try to encourage her to do what she is able for herself, not because I mind doing for her, but because somehow I feel it helps her stay here. Stay with us, in the world; in herself.

But little by little she is slipping away from me. She confuses my daughter with my mom, or refers to her as "that girl, you know, my caregiver" (because F takes care of her occasionally so I can go out). Friends of the family like to go into her room, where she sits in front of her blaring TV, or naps on her bed. She is always gracious and polite, but often tells them how nice it is to meet them. She introduces herself to people she saw two weeks ago and tells them that her name is Ruby, but "just call me Grama; everybody does".

She hardly ever yells at or argues with me anymore. Mostly that is nice, because she used to be a real pain in the ass, calling us all "fucking liars", because she couldn't remember that she forgets. (But sometimes I miss that feisty ol' bitch.)

But she doesn't tell me stories anymore.

She doesn't remember the time that one of my Grampa's girlfriends had the nerve to knock on their door, (when Grams was in her 30's) and how she "slapped that bitch and then chased her down the street". She doesn't remember how when she was 17 and Grampa was courting her, and after a little goodnite kissing he put his hand on her thigh and she was so freaked out about what to do that she pretended to faint.

I've tried to keep those good stories alive in her. Reminding and coaching her. Once in awhile she surprises me, but mostly she is forgetting. It's breaking my heart, slowly.

My Grama taught me how to chew gum "like a lady", with my mouth closed.
She taught me how to drink my milk or juice without getting a mustache.
She taught me how to file my nails.
She taught me how to keep score for a baseball game.
To work crossword puzzles, play scrabble and yahtzee.
She filled my childhood with holiday delight.
She washed my face and neck and ears and knees and feet before putting me in the bathtub.
(and washed my hair in the kitchen sink)

She played the guitar a little, sang with a whiskey alto, drank coors beer, and loved to laugh. She won trophies shooting pool at the VFW, and you never saw a couple dance like she and Gramps.

And I keep hearing this incredible song by the Dixie Chicks, written about their own experience with this disease. And it speaks to my soul and my heart, and it kills me but also fills me.

And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house

I will. I will hold the stories, Grama. I will let you forget

Altzheimer's Info dot org
Altzheimer's Support Forums
Sena (education and programs for aging and dying)

Silent House

These walls have eyes
Rows of photographs
And faces like mine
Who do we become
Without knowing where
We started from

It's true I'm missing you
As I stand alone in your room

Everything that you made by hand
Everything that you know by heart
Everyday that will pass you by
Every name that you won't recall

And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house

One room
Two single beds
In the closet hangs
Your favorite dress
The books that you read
Are in scattered piles
Of paper shreds

Everything that you made by hand
Everything that you know by heart

And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house
Silent house

In the garden off the living room
A chill fills the air
And the lilies bloom

And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this

And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house

Silent house

A new beginning.....

please, Goddess. So, yesterday a little after noon sometime, I finally realized that all my crazyness, sleepiness, and escapist behaviors point to one thing. Depression. I've been feeling a bit in and out of depression for about 4-6 months, but wasn't really sure if I was just romancing my sadness, stressed out, hormonal or what. This last 2 weeks I have "hit bottom" once again. I've been taking my meds consistantly, and am at the max dose and still without health or mental health care/coverage of any kind. With our current transportation situation, there's not much I can do on an outward basis (ie meetings, support groups, counseling). Once again it is an inside job.

So yesterday, I reordered my 43 things list to put the goals that are most necessary for my health and well being at the top of my list. I know no matter how "blah" or tired or weepy I feel, I am most often able to be present and do what must be done (it's my curse...*LOL*) So when I look over the last couple of months, I notice that I am happiest when doing. Designing artwork, doing tattoos, taking care of business; whether it's laundry, housecleaning or whatever. Therein lies the problem. The drudgery of facing the daily chores without a working schedule, added to the hormones, the recent dental pain, the weight gain and up n down of my FMS pain and chronic fatigue, along with outside stressors such as vehicle problems, F and A's living and relationship, financial worries, have put me in a place of wanting to hide my head under the covers and sleep; or escape playing computer games or web browsing.
The only things that seem to get me moving are my art (when I have a design to work on...not just doing stuff because I want to draw), and keeping a minimally clean house out of love and respect for my hard-working partner.

Yesterday I managed to do several things that are good for me and will hopefully begin to help me climb my way out of this depression.
1) I ate 3 small meals. This is a big deal, because my unhealthy MO is to skip breakfast and lunch, then eat dinner which kicks my metabolism in and makes me wakeful and hungry late into the night.
2) I rode my excercise bike for 5 minutes.
3) I began taking Relacort, which I'm hoping will help with the stress and weight loss.
4) And most important of all I sat my partner down and told her that I was in depression. She admitted that she thinks she is, too. We cried together, and supported each other in our tears and feelings. And we began making some plans on how to reduce our stress, change some of our financial and vehicle problems, and most importantly, support and help pull each other up, instead of our mutual depressive behaviors insidiously pulling each other (and thereby doubling back on ourselves) down.
So last night we made a point to go to the bedroom and watch some TV together, instead of her hiding in TV, while I hide on the computer. We decided to pray together every night, and for me to get up with her in the morning and share some time before she goes to work and that we would share at least 5 gratitudes each morning.
It was very cool. I'm so grateful she is open to my experience (and dare I use her word; wisdom), to help us find solutions. Before we got too sleepy we put our arms around each other and prayed: "Hey, Goddess and Gods, this is T and T out here in the High Desert and we sure could use some help. Things are gettin' us down and we ask for strength and courage and the willingness to do what needs done. We ask so we can be better people, and reflect love instead of anger and sadness into the world. Let us be vessels of your light. Bless our loved ones and bring comfort to the afflicted. In the words of my Goddess-daughter Mikyla, please make the bad people good and the good people better." Mt T doesn't have alot of practice at praying, so I did the talking, but she was fully present. Then we did a sort of psalm I read somewhere years ago together.
"Ever as I pass through the ways
do I fee the presence of the Gods.
I know that in aught I do
They are with me.
They abide in me
as I in Them, forever.
No evil shall be entertained
for purity is the dweller
within me and about.
For good do I strive
for good do I live.
Love unto all things
Forever.
So mote it be."

It felt really good. This morning, I dragged myself awake with her (that's the tough part for me) and we did our gratitudes. The awesome thing about gratitudes is that at first you think "How can I possibly come up with 5?" And then once you get going, it's hard to stop!!! It was quite excellent. So I just ate my donut breakfast (hey, at least I gagged something down!),and now I'm going to take a lil bath and warm up a bit before my 5 minute ride.
Then it's off to take Grama to the Dr and for lab work. I'm really worried about her. She has a significant amount of blood in her urine again, and her lower back aches. I'm afraid this time it may be her kidneys.