Mom’s Fears | by Linda Brendle

Mom was always a fearful person. Dad worked nights several times during their 70-year marriage. She sometimes told the story of being a young bride, left alone in an isolated country house while her groom worked at the ice house every night. One evening she was awakened from a restless sleep by a terrible noise. She later described it as sounding like someone was trying to get into the house straight through the wall of her bedroom. She had no phone and no close neighbors, so she huddled in the center of the bed, trembling with fear and wondering how long she had left to live. The noise continued for a while, but when the walls didn’t splinter and the threat didn’t seem to increase, she screwed up her courage and crept outside to investigate. She slipped down the front steps and peeked around the corner, and there she saw it. An old milk cow was chewing on the grass that grew up beside the pier and beam foundation that supported the house. She laughed about it later, but she and I had a replay of sorts years later when I was in my early teens.

Warning Signs of Alzheimer’s – Part 5 of 10 | by Linda Brendle

Today’s warning sign may be a little harder to observe than some of the other signs. Sometimes the evidence that someone is having trouble understanding visual images and spatial relationships is not as obvious as forgetting the name of a family member or thinking the year is 1985. The Alzheimer’s Association defines this warning sign as follows:

What Do I Fear Now – OOPS! | by Linda Brendle

Earlier this week, I wrote about a time when my greatest fear was losing the use of my eyes or my hands.  I recounted how I came to terms with that fear, but lately I’ve become aware of a new fear that is lurking around the edges of my consciousness.

Mom’s Shrinking Life \ by Linda Brendle

I visited with Mom earlier this week. There is less of her each time I see her. I’m not talking about physical size, although she is losing weight now that she can’t feed herself and can’t graze off the plates of her tablemates, but her life is getting smaller and smaller.

Writing – How Did I Do That? | Linda Brendle

Writing – How Did I Do That? | Linda Brendle

One of my recent blog posts scared me. Not the post itself, but the response. The post was about a day David and I spent on the motorcycle and the healing it brought me. I got some nice responses including the following two:

Ready or Not | by Linda Brendle

Hide and Seek is a favorite game of children. One child is designated as “It,” and while the other children run and hide, “It” stays at “base,” hides his eyes, and counts. When he reaches 30 or 50 or 100, he yells, “Ready or not, here I come.” Those few words evoke lots of emotions in the other children. If they’ve not yet found a suitable hiding place, they feel panic as they realize they’re completely exposed and in danger of being caught. If they have hidden daringly close to base, they feel a thrill of fear and excitement as they anticipate that mad dash to safety, trying to avoid being tagged. And if they found the PERFECT hiding place, they may be overcome with giggles as they realize that “It” has no chance of finding them. I don’t play Hide and Seek much anymore except with my grandchildren, but through the years I’ve encountered many situations that yell “Ready or not, here I come.”

Where Did She Go? | by Linda Brendle

All of us, especially those of us who are in the second half of a century of life, have had the experience of misplacing our keys or wallet temporarily. We think Now where did that go, and sometimes we worry. We think it might be the sign of something sinister, but according to www.alzheimersdisease.com, it’s a normal part of aging. A person with Alzheimer’s Disease (AD) is likely to be more creative in misplacing things, like putting an iron in the freezer or a wristwatch in the sugar bowl. The first time I was aware of Mom’s creative storage practices was when I asked to use her hair spray.

I Can Still Spell ‘World’ Backward | by Linda Brendle

A few days ago, David was struggling to remember an elusive name or movie title (I forget which), and he voiced a typical complaint of those of us in the Baby Boomer generation.

“I can’t remember anything anymore. My memory is getting terrible.”

“Can you spell ‘world’ backward,” I said.

Shoes, Dreams and Writing

I dreamed about shoes recently, twice. According to on-line dream interpreters, I may have some rethinking to do about my writing career.

Just a Dream

I dreamed about Mom and Dad last night. I do that quite a bit lately. I guess it’s my subconscious working through the grief of Dad’s death and the nagging guilt that caregivers feel about this decision or that situation that could have been resolved differently or handled better. When I woke up at 4:30, the dream was clear, and I mentally composed a brilliant blog post around it. I should have gotten up and written it then or at least