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The Long and Winding Road…

~ An Alzheimer's Journey and Beyond

The Long and Winding Road…

Category Archives: Eason House

Happy Birthday, Mom…

12 Saturday Oct 2013

Posted by Ann Napoletan in Books, Eason House, Life After Caregiving, Mom, Ruminations

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Tags

alzheimers, dementia

Writing - Long and Winding Stock Photos October 12. Mom’s birthday, and she would have been 77-years-old. The photo on the left was taken on her 75th.

Hopefully there will be one hell of a party in Heaven, complete with cake and a massive all-you-can-eat ice cream bar! It’s the first birthday she’s celebrated with her sister, Shirley, and Aunt Helen, in many, many years. Boy how she loves those two women! Just the thought of the three sitting around a table telling stories and sharing belly laughs makes me smile.

IMG_0847We’ve decided we’ll celebrate the day as well, because let’s face it Mom would slap us silly if she saw us sitting around crying. (And anyone who knew her knows I’m not kidding!)

Tonight, we’ll have a little cookout. For dessert there will be vanilla ice cream with her famous homemade chocolate syrup, and then we’ll sit around a fire and enjoy the October evening. Considering her love of ice cream and the fall season, I think she would approve.

scans017I’m also submitting a piece of writing to the publisher of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. By happenstance (or not), I ran across something just this week saying they’re accepting stories for their upcoming edition on Alzheimer’s and dementia. Ironically (or not), the deadline is Tuesday, so I saw it just in the nick of time. If it’s chosen for the book, what a perfect 77th birthday gift for my Guardian Angel, don’t you think?

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Remembering…

02 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by Ann Napoletan in 4M, Advocacy and Awareness, Behaviors, Eason House, End of Life Signs, Expectations, Heartland, Hospice, Mom, Ruminations, Uncategorized, Weight Loss

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Tags

alzheimers, dementia, end of life signs, hospice

mom angelsIt’s nearly impossible to believe a year has passed since Mom began her sharp and unexpectedly rapid decline at the hand of Alzheimer’s.  It was about this time in 2012 that I realized scheduling a big vacation months in advance was a bad idea. At the time, though, things were “okay”… who knew what a difference one summer could make.

Praying for Comfort

There were fewer and fewer good days; she wasn’t eating – beginning to even turn her nose up at some of her favorite sweets – and was losing weight quickly. From that point on, her diet consisted primarily of Ensure until the end. Oh how excited we felt when she would eat a cracker or a couple of grapes; more than that and it was as though we’d hit the lottery, we were downright joyous!

photo-58In those weeks, it was indescribably painful to see her so distraught; screaming, hitting her head, and often inconsolable. In the few rare peaceful moments she had, she would stare at the ceiling, entranced, with a soft smile on her face and eyes almost sparkling. There’s not a doubt in my mind it was the very beginning of her transition. As upsetting as it was, seeing her at peace like that was also an incredible relief, but those moments of respite never lasted long.  All too soon, the terror she was obviously feeling would return.

Time For Hospice?

Finally, the time came where I knew I needed to make a decision. I called hospice to have them come out and do an assessment; unfortunately, we had a mind blowing, horrific experience with the intake nurse. I ended up asking her to leave before the process had been completed. On Monday, I called the office and told them to destroy the paperwork – I had changed my mind (there’s more to the story…).

It was the beginning of the final dizzying, nausea-inducing rollercoaster ride that lasted for the next 3 or so months. I thought I had seen it all, but I hadn’t seen anything yet…

Hopelessly Unpredictable Progression

So crazy to think earlier that same year I truly thought that she could easily live another 10 years or more. Physically, she was strong. But things can – and often do – change very rapidly where this disease is concerned.

Mom wasn’t done fighting, though. While she never bounced back to where she had been, she did turn things around one more time – for a short spell – before that final downward spiral. I went from being certain she only had weeks left to believing she might actually rebound; however, that was not the case. Amazing how your mind plays games, but with this disease, “rebound” is a very relative term…

_____

If you would like to help us raise awareness, research dollars, and funds to help families on this journey right now, visit Marilyn’s Mighty Memory Makers’ page to join the team or make a monetary donation. In just two weeks, we’ll be walking to #ENDALZ.

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Remembering…

11 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by Ann Napoletan in Eason House, Inspiration, Ruminations, Saying Goodbye

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jeanne-eason-91st-birthdayToday, I attended the funeral of Jeanne Fox Eason, a beautiful woman who lived an extraordinary life by anyone’s definition. Mrs. Eason was 93-years-old when she joined her beloved husband, Warren, in Heaven last month, and the stories told this morning read like a magnificent novel set in the 1940’s.

What Dreams Are Made Of

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine: Corpus Christi, Texas, WWII. A lovely young Navy WAVE Link Instructor is teaching instrument navigation to student pilots. It’s there that she meets a handsome young naval pilot who will become her husband of 63 years.

Mrs. Eason was one of the ladies who lived with my mom at Eason House. In fact, the house was inspired by and named for Dr. and Mrs. Eason, and their memory will live on in that very special place forever more.

A Special Poem

The following poem was read during the memorial service, and I found it very moving. Just as a gift cannot be “ungiven,” nor can the memories of our loved ones be unraveled, for they are so deeply interwoven into the fabric of our own hearts…

All Souls, by May Sarton
Did someone say that there would be an end,
an end, Oh, an end to love and mourning?
What has been once so interwoven cannot be raveled,
not the gift ungiven.
Now the dead move through all of us still glowing.
Mother and child, lover and lover mated,
are wound and bound together and enflowing.
What has been plaited cannot be unplaited–
only the strands grow richer with each loss
and memory makes kings and queens of us.
Dark into light, light into darkness, spin.
When all the birds have flow to some real haven,
we who find shelter in the warmth within,
listen and feel new-cherished, new-forgiven,
as the lost human voices speak through us and blend our complex love,
our mourning without end.

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Marilyn, BA (before Alzheimer's)

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