Pamela Foster's Blog, page 4

Love and Stripper Poles

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This past Thursday evening was the last free concert-on-the-bay of the season. Jack and I attended all but one of these events. There were a slew of logistical challenges when he moved from the walker to the wheelchair. A lift had to be attached to our car, straps located to tie the wheelchair to the lift. My son is working on a deck so Jack no longer has to get out of the chair twice in order to get him down the steps and into the garage from the house. We now have poles attached floor-to-c...

Karma

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Six months ago, Jack and I sat in a VA doctor’s office and listened as two neurologists explained the diagnoses of Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. We argued with the experts a bit, tried to find another explanation for his many symptoms. But in the end, it was obvious that, indeed, PSP checked all the boxes for what was going on with him.

When we left the office, both of us numb, Jack said to me, “This is Karma for what I did in Vietnam.”

So today, the letter ‘K’ is brought to you by Karma.

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Juju Beads

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My winding path to enlightenment, or more truthfully toward survival, is strewn with a discarded string of juju beads representing various religions and philosophies. I have at one time or another embraced Protestantism, Catholicism, Christian Fundamentalism, Humanism, and Skepticism. I’ve even dabbled in Buddhism and Hinduism. I think of these creeds as prisms through which I view the universal light. In my involvement with every one of these religions, there came a time when I bumped up ag...

Very Interesting

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The photo is of Jack in happier, though no less interesting, times.

This morning was interesting.

The dog ate Jack’s hearing aides. Not the batteries, thank God, but the little, grooved flesh-colored pieces of plastic and technology are now in many, many bits. Evidently Jack set them on his nightstand, knocked them off somehow in the night, and Nickie discovered his expensive new toys first thing this morning.

Breakfast – diced bacon and scrambled eggs fed to Jack with a long-handled Sun...

Hollering

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A few days ago I started to write this ‘H’ post about hope. My intent was to incorporate healing into the mix. Look, it’s not like I don’t know that people can only take so much raw truth and pain on any subject. I’ve dealt with Jack’s combat PTSD for well over twenty-five years now. At some point, friends, readers, fans, acquaintances, the neighbor, the checker at the supermarket, everyone just wants me to shut the fuck up and get on with my life.

I actually see them mentally putting their...

Grief. And Guilt.

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G is for grief. And it’s also for guilt.

If I had been a better wife, if I had loved Jack more selflessly, more deeply, might I have prevented his brain from developing Progressive Supranuclear Palsy? Is it possible that, if I had only been a better person myself, I could have, somehow, in some way, spared him the attack upon his brain and body and psyche by this Godawful disease?

Yes, I know this is crazy.

But while we’re exploring this fantasy, here’s another, more relevant question.

Might...

Forgetting

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Forgetting our past is terrifying. Our experiences, our memories are who we are, how we identify ourselves. Part of the progressive supranuclear palsy from which Jack suffers is dementia. But, not the loss of memory associated with Alzheimer’s disease. No, this central brain disorder messes with the executive functions of the brain. Planning and problem solving is affected. There are some memory lapses, yes, but a larger issue is increasing problems with speech. Financial judgement becomes i...

Small Expectations

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I’ve grown to dislike those Facebook Memories that pop up first thing every morning. The old photo posts of Jack and I out dancing, or on a road trip, or hiking in one exotic location or another.  Each memory forces me to see the glaring evidence of Jack’s decline, provides irrefutable proof that my expectations sink lower each day. And the bar MUST be lowered constantly.  Jack’s physical and mental abilities deteriorate, mostly slowly, occasionally like a giant leap from a cliff, freefallin...

Death

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I love this picture. It shows the real me.

D is for death. Not Jack’s death. Ultimately, that will be his with which to deal.

I want to talk today about my own death, and the 70% chance that I will die before Jack. That’s the statistic. 70% of caregivers die before the person for whom they are caring. In truth, I very nearly did die three years ago.

Three years ago, before we had a diagnoses, before Progressive Nuclear Palsy robbed Jack of most of his sight, stole his balance and strength, di...

Commitment

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Years ago Jack and I spent a month in Nepal. We were exhausted and elated by Kathmandu, our week at Chitwan National Park, and a persistent tour guide who took us to his family home in the actual middle of jungle where we were treated to warm milk complete with water buffalo hairs floating on top. So, when we arrived in Pokhara on the shoulder of the beautiful Fishtail peak of the Himalayas, we were ready for a long rest. We stayed at the Stupa Hotel, owned by the King of Brunei and managed...