Layers

Breathing

scents
of fallen
rose petal
secrets

Unwrapping

tied up
boxes
of lost
surprises

Waiting

while tear drops
melt
false maskes
from me

Staring

into mirrors
of screaming faces
behind
shadow smiles

Knowing

layers
illusions
are dissolving

my truth
is being
revealed

tio stib, 1995, 2018

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My Dementia Diary 42 – My Gratitude List

Today’s gratitude list-

our good health and well being
a comfortable home that fits us perfectly
living in a safe town in a free country
clear air to breathe, clean water to drink
hot showers
phone calls from caring family
the Brocks, our compassionate neighbors
hot chocolate  and chocolate chip cookies
our daily walk adventures
digital music from Beethoven to Arkenstone
a computer that defies blindness and lets me write
a life full of smiling memories
audio books and my writing mentors
2012, our honeymoon year
a tasty club sandwich
playing the banjo
hearing my wife whistling
snuggles and wet kisses

and another birthday, happy, happy!

tio stib

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Flavors of Friends

Some are vanilla,
predictably plain
Dependably true
always the same

Some are exotic
quixotic
sherbets with fireworks lives
occasionally glancing
to check others’ eyes

then the specials
like bubblegum treat
beautifully different
sumptuous sweets

Yes, chocolate, strawberry,
and rocky road too
friends of all flavors
some licked and
some chewed

like ice cream
I taste them
each one of a kind
then off on their way
they melt in my mind

Yet over the years
a few friends remain
these flavors I savor
again
and again

tio stib

2014, 2016, 2018

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My Dementia Diary 41 – Reality Check

We seldom notice the small changes in those close to us, but over time, these changes add up. Suddenly, we are aware of differences. Our children have grown up. Our parents have grown old.

My wife’s dementia has deteriorated.

She is more confused, no longer remembering where our children live, forgetting names and places. She is more fearful, often upset by imaginary ghosts. She needs more help with daily functions, getting dressed, brushing teeth, taking a shower. She cannot be left alone, this causes her extreme anxiety. Her spoken words are often unintelligible, gibberish.

That said, there’s another side to this story. She is still filled with love and joy, greeting all we meet with a smile and “thank you, very good day!” She still loves to color, spending afternoons with crayons and coloring designs as she whistles happily. She is easily directed, no arguments about the right jacket to wear, going shopping, visiting friends, or what I’m serving for dinner.

It has been five years now since I became aware of my wife’s dementia. the mental deterioration process has been slow but all the little losses have added up. She now requires twenty four hour care, although much of the time little direct supervision is necessary. She is more confused and fragile, requiring my careful consideration in in response to her emotional needs.

Still, she is healthy and active, we enjoy our daily walks through town, visits to restaurants, phone conversations with family. But this will change, the disease will further consume her brain, there will come a time where meeting her needs will be more than I can do alone.

For now, I continue to do what we love with the woman I love for as long as we can.

tio stib

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For Want of Open Minds

He asked my thoughts on politics
but before my mouth could move
he stormed ahead with words of dread
drowning out the room

and on he roared, a raging flood
I chose to bide my time
for it was plain enough to hear
I couldn’t change his mind

no reasoned fact, no cautious note
no plea for honesty
was going to change this zealot’s fears
about humanity

I smiled and offered my goodbye
I scarcely think he heard
for he was talking to himself
since no one else concurred

a sad day for democracy
sad for humankind
when we fail to listen with respect
for want of open minds

tio stib,
2017, 2018

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My Dementia Diary 40 – When “No!” Means “Yes!”

“Do you want to take a shower?” I asked her.

“No!”

I asked again, “do you want to take a Shower?”

“No!”

I took off my clothes, then asked one more time, “do you want to take a shower?”

“No!”

Okay, fine, I thought, I’m taking a shower by myself. I was tired, not feeling well, and the thought of soaking under a stream of hot water was delicious. I needed it. I’d asked my wife three times if she’d wanted to join me because recently I’ve had to shower with her to ensure she was washed thoroughly. She enjoys this.

But, she said, “no!”

I lost myself in the showers warm deluge, letting fatigue and aches melt away. Eventually, I turned off the water, dried myself and put on pajamas, then approached my wife, who was lying in bed.

“You don’t love me,” she said defiantly, “why didn’t you shower with me?”

Obviously, I’d made a mistake, something I often do when tired.

Obviously, her previous “no!” meant “yes!”

I’d forgotten that she is now so attached to me that she expects we will do everything together. If we don’t, something is wrong.

It took a lot  of soothing talk and caresses before her anger dissolved and her usual loving self returned. I’ve learned that these situations simply require patience and eventually harmony is restored.

Later, as she slept soundly beside me, I pondered how easy it is to do everything right and still have things go wrong.

Dementia is not a rational disease.

tio stib

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My Dementia Diary 39 – My Mockingbirds

We often hear mockingbirds on our morning walks. It’s hard to ignore them. Male mockingbirds barrage the world all day long with sounds that vary from raucous  noises to sweet songbirds. They are incessant, stringing their auditory outbursts on and on with nary a breath between the various snippets.

My wife and the mockingbirds have much in common.

It seems each day unleashes a torrent of words from  her mind, which is somehow dammed up by night time silence. this verbal flood bursts out just as I lock the door and we step away from home. There are common themes, where are the kids, what is someone’s name, why don’t people call us anymore? the words keep pouring out. Like the mockingbirds, there is no noticeable breath between one thought and the next. 

Then come the songs. Although she can’t remember what we had for breakfast, she does remember songs from the third grade, pitch perfect, every word. She sings, she whistles, and we merrily walk on.

I am blessed by mockingbirds.

tio stib

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