Thought I’d stay in the personal post mode for a wee bit and continue to share this strange [frightening] journey.
I’ve learned dementia comes in waves but, oddly, with my mother, it seems to have mushroomed in the last week. Or maybe I’d turned a deaf ear to it, “convincing” myself it’s just short-term memory loss (a phrase which I feel safer, more comfortable with). But, definitely, her grasp of time and events is declining.
The word for today is . . .
s-u-p-p-o-r-t
I’ve put it out there, my concern, anxiety and anguish . . . my tears . . . my heart and soul. Starting this week, we will have someone come twice a week for one hour. As my mother refuses to allow anyone but yours truly to do anything, the hour will likely consist of my mother chatting with said someone. It’s a start. It will accustom my mother to different people; she’ll learn [hopefully] to accept help from others.
We’ve got her with a home doctor now, too, as the one she had was way to far away. Another step. Medications will be reviewed. Maybe new ones administered. There’s a physiotherapist to help with exercises once a week. If you looked in the dictionary for couch potato, my mother would be there. I say this with a smile and a wink; she’s never been one for exercise. There’ll be an occupational therapist at some point, as my mother’s taken to falling during the night.
For all the years we toil and struggle, the families we rear, the relationships we maintain, the undertakings we, well, undertake, we should be able to grow old with dignity. It seems so terribly tragic, and heart-rending, that life in those “golden years” is more like tarnish. It’s said that life isn’t fair, but that sounds so despondent, and yet, appears to be true; often, it simply isn’t.
But I refuse to be discouraged, or pessimistic. I have to [continue to] keep that faith, no matter how many challenges are thrown my way. It’s not easy. And, yes, there are days when I want to give up, crawl under the covers and never come out again.
It’s human to become dismayed and disappointed . . . but it’s also human to become encouraged and inspired. This comes through . . . you got it . . . support.
If you need it, seek it. If you have it to give, offer it.
Believe in miracles. They do come true, you know. When least expected.
I think one of my favorites is Sonnet 43—there are 150 as an FYI—When Most I Wink, Then Do Mine Eyes See Best. 
Yes, there was a movie of the same name, and the 1983 flick was a decent adaptation of the book (saw it three times). It featured Jason Robards as the unhappy father, Jonathan Pryce as the devious Mr. Dark, Vidal Peterson as Will (and Arthur Hill as the adult Will narrating), and Shawn Carson as Jim.
Quick background: based on Arthur Hailey’s bestselling novel of the same name, it was written and directed by George Seaton, screenwriter/playwright/producer, and starred Burt Lancaster and Dean Martin. Other central characters were tragedy-to-come Jean Seberg, destined-star Jacqueline Bisset, and ever-lovely Helen Hayes. 
Arthur Hailey, by the by, is a British-Canadian author who also penned Hotel (on which the TV series was based), The Moneychangers (which became a mini-series), and The Evening News, among others. Interestingly enough, some critics found him a “plodding writer” while others believed he was a talented storyteller. I strongly agree with the latter.
The Writer's Grab-Bag 