Anthony! Anthony!!

Anthony was a little kid living in Boston's North End whose mother would call from the townhouse window, summoning him home to a fine 1950s-'60s style weekly pasta dinner made from Prince spaghetti, because "Wednesday is Prince spaghetti day!" As a kid growing up watching TV in those days, I wondered why Wednesday was so special. I've finally figured it out.

It's not just because a dedicated pasta day would sell more Prince spaghetti.

It's because, now that I've taken up cooking the daily dinner for Mom and myself, I finally realize how difficult it is to come up with something new and interesting to eat every single day! Seriously. There are just so many variations on a theme (and a more limited theme than when I was cooking just for myself). I'm helped partially by Mom's short term memory losses but I really don't want to have to count on that to get me by.

Telephonics

So. . .. One of Mom's docs (the dermatologist) called this morning. I was expecting a call from the neurologist who left a message yesterday wanting her to go back to the hospital to get more tests done, but didn't say which ones or why, so I called back but got voice mail and now it's their turn again, which (along with Mom's deafness and confusability and the fact that telemarketers still manage to call sometimes) is why I tend to intercept her phone calls which she is perfectly happy to let me do. So I did.

The doctor was very nice (I've met him since I've started going in to Mom's appointments with her) but refused to tell me why he called because I'm not officially on her need-to-know HIPAA list.

So I handed off the phone to her. The doctor had to yell so loud that I heard everything from my chair three feet away anyway.

Her biopsy came back clean. She's good for another six months (on that front anyway).

Life in the Real World

This is how you tell you're not in Zion any more: The local supermarket circular has literally a full page spread on Kosher specials for Rosh Hashanah. With multiple competing brands. And little tag lines on other items throughout the six pages of the ad noting "Kosher for the Holidays." No getting uncomprehending looks since there's no need to ask in the first place.

That, and a distinct lack of blondes.

Happy New Year!

Good Days, Bad Days

The Excelon may be working. It's hard to tell. Some days Mom is totally together, coherent, verbal with little or no word loss and others (yesterday, I'm looking at you) . . .. She couldn't figure out where the newspaper article ended or how--or why--to turn the page to continue the story, and couldn't understand that slicing up the paper with nail clipper scissors wouldn't solve the problem. She got very frustrated and kept saying, "I just don't understand how to do this. Where am I supposed to cut this?"

The good side of it is she forgets fairly quickly when she's in this mode and so put the paper down, sat for a few minutes, picked up a magazine and everything was fine.

The bad part is, at least while the behaviors remain harmless, these situations are pretty funny (after the fact). I'm probably not accumulating any Karma by laughing (but never out loud or when she's around).

At least she still appreciates my cooking.

The Diagnosis

So. We went to the doctor a week ago Tuesday to get the results of the CAT scan. Mom was not having one of her better days. The good news: No bleeding in the brain. No stroke. The bad news: Alzheimer's. Officially. And fairly well advanced, too. So there's no going back, now. The doctor said best case, 2-3 years, worst case, one, before she is incapable of taking any care of herself.

He did give us a prescription to try, Excelon, which is a daily patch. She's been very happy to use it. It can not reverse the plaque damage but it can stabilize the situation for a while. Doc said it will take a week or so to see any changes but I think I see minor improvements in her reasoning and verbal abilities already.

Could also be wishful thinking. (A long-range placebo effect? Her medication makes me think she's getting better?)

A Word to the Wise

I've noticed recently that most of the birds that were hanging around the neighborhood seem to be gone. The mottled ducks are still up at the north end of the road by the canal and most of the burrowing owls are still there, but no ibis, vultures or parrots and hardly any doves, crows, mockingbirds, etc. I presume nesting season is over and most of them are just off somewhere but it is weird to walk around at dawn in silence.

The neighborhood falcon is still here, though. This morning he was sitting on the telephone line in a front yard at the end of my street. We stared at each other as I walked directly beneath him. As I went by a squirrel came down the driveway toward me, obviously oblivious to the raptor over his head. He was coming from behind the hawk so the bird didn't see him either. I stopped, pointed and yelled at the squirrel, "You idiot! Look up!!" He froze. I continued on a little way, then turned around. The squirrel was gone.

The falcon saw me coming back and swooped off the wire, diving down to my height before gliding up to the top of the nearest telephone pole. As soon as he did, the squirrel popped out from under some ground cover planted along the driveway and took off.

The falcon is not that big and the squirrel was probably more than he wanted to deal with, but still, it's nice to know the rodent paid attention to my warning.

"If They Want Me To Get Well, Why Do They Want to Make Me Mad?"

That was Mom's question Sunday evening when reminded of her appointments for Monday and Tuesday this week.

My answer: "That's how they tell you're still alive."

Her response: "They should leave me alone and just guess."

Mom actually had a pretty good weekend. A fair amount of energy and the ability and desire to get up and around the house a bit. She's been going to bed an hour earlier which may be helping. A friend of hers form her old ceramics classes stopped by on Sunday. The woman, Ruthie, had called earlier but neither of them could hear the other on the phone so she just showed up on our front step. They had a nice visit for about twenty minutes or so and Mom was really animated.

Mom's second grandson, Dan, called from Iraq Monday afternoon. He'd called Sunday night but Mom had gone to bed early so he and I talked for awhile and he tried again Monday. He's part of the 50,000 "non-combat" troops still there. He's up in Kurdistan, going on patrol "arresting" bad guys. Technically the Army does the "arresting and he's Navy, but he speaks Arabic ("What's your name?", "What are you doing?", "Lie face down.", "Eat gravel.", the sorts of things that will be totally useless if he ever goes touristing in Egypt or Morocco) so he's the official translator. When he hung up I said, "Wow. A phone call all the way from Iraq! How about that?" Mom said, "Considering what's going on over there, I really don't want phone calls from Iraq." She wants Dan back here in the States.

When the home health nurse asked her questions, she got the date and year wrong, although she knew Obama is president. She also knows she wants her grandson back from Iraq. I'd say her mind is holding the important stuff just fine.