Lifeliners Friendship Songs

Recently, it seems every Lifeliner  was experiencing something a little beyond the ordinary.  (See Post: My Lifeline) I opened my inbox and there it was in very large and bold print:  LIFELINERS THEME SONG.  Jay had sent it with a beginning note that just said: “Have to share”.  The message contained the entire lyrics of “Thank you for being a friend.”  Immediately The Golden Girls television show came to mind but what resonated was that as I read, the words took on a very special meaning.  They seemed created for us, this little group of Lifeliners.  It was the perfect theme song.  Through the marvels of the internet we adopted it in minutes and were emailing each other saying we were singing as we wrote and signing off with thank you for being a (or my) friend.

In replying to Jay I wrote “…that’s what friends are for and, thank YOU for being a friend…”  Seeing the juxtaposition of the two songs I smiled to myself.  I could picture all of us holding hands and dancing as we sang our newly minted Theme Song.  We do like to dance.  Then I wrote suggesting that we should put together a list of songs of friendship that was illustrative of the special friendship we share.  I am not sure my finger was off the ‘send’ button when Jay responded with a list she found at the following URL: https://www.thoughtco.com/top-friendship-songs-3248289

It was an interesting list as it did contain almost all of the suggestions made by us for our Lifeliners song of songs.  Here is a NOT a playlist but a compilation of Lifeliners friendship songs. The collection ranges from a 1927 song to Bob Marley, Frank Sinatra, Rihanna, Bill Withers and more.  Perhaps, if you are interested you can find out for yourself who sang what if it is not already included in the above URL. Here goes:

I am “Tongue tied” as my Lifeliners “Stand by Me” through thick and thin.  We know “Everybody hurts.” I know that “Anytime you need a friend” a Lifeliner will say “You’ve got a friend in me”.  I am never lonely as “I’ll be there for you” yes, “I’ll be there” is the assurance from each Lifeliner.  “With a little help from my friends”, “I believe I can fly”.   Sure, “The road is long” and hard but, “That’s life” though none of us have any intention to lie down and die.  Rather, on dark days when it is raining tears we will gather together under the “Umbrella”.  When we say: “You’re my best friend”, we say it to each one and also to the group who singly and together are the “Wind beneath my wings.”

We travel this road “Side by side”. We support each other, we share, we care because “That’s what friends are for.”

Lifeliners theme song is “Thank you for being a friend”.  What a precious gift we give to one another.  We are grateful that we can share this giant, amazing “One Love” that lightens the darkness of our unique night and makes us feel alright.

The Meander:  In writing this I realized how closely aligned friendship and love are.  I realized that friendship is the amalgamation of Agape, Filial and Eros those major columns of love.   Friends have been very special all my life.  The best friends just are, no subterfuge no wearing a face. That is the power of friendship.  Friends choose to be friends.  You love them, you like them; you are in communion with them. To all my wonderful friends: Thank you for being a friend.

I Looove Lettuce!

It took this snowbird fleeing our Canadian Winter to make me realize I love lettuce.  The year was 1996 when we fled to Indonesia to spend three unforgettable months in Bali.

We lived in Sanur village within walking distance to the beach and its many famous restaurants.  Kuta Beach, only about a half hour away, is the more famous one. Crazy nightclubs crowded streets, restaurants, shopping, tourists, and the place to party and have fun.   Sad to say Kuta Beach was also the site of a terrorist bombing on October 12, 2002.

It was in Bali that we met our Dutch son, Duncan (See post: A Most Unusual Birthday) and together we discovered Bali.  We had some remarkable experiences among which were:

Attending a funeral rite including the burning of the body;

Visiting Pura Besakih, the Mother Temple, while an important religious ceremony was in progress;

Being served tea on the beach in raised, open, luxurious Japanese tea house  tent-like structures at the magnificent hotel in Nusa Dua;

Getting a spontaneous invitation to an afterbirth ceremony and family celebration;

Getting up close but certainly not personal with a Komodo dragon on Komodo Island;

Watching the amazing carvers in Ubud bring out the most intricate art from pieces of wood;

Dining on fresh caught fish at Jimbaran Bay.

Our travels took us everywhere.  Duncan was our intrepid driver, bobbing and weaving among the multitude of motorcycles carrying entire families on one small scooter.

But back to lettuce.  When we had arrived in Bali we were given brochures full of information for foreigners.  They stressed drinking bottled water and not using ice that was not made from purified water.   In fact, in our apartment, though there was a fully functioning bathroom, we were brought pitchers of boiled water every morning to brush our teeth.

In Balinese culture there are the sacred elements of which water was perhaps the most revered.  It was the lifeblood, the cleansing power, a major highway to Nirvana.

Every rite involved water.  Everything was done by, in or near the water. Everything!

All three of us, as seasoned travellers had not drunk any water nor ate anything that was not peeled, boiled or cooked. Sure there were ‘western restaurants’ and very upscale hotels which we frequented.. However, even in those establishments I could not and would not eat anything raw. Thus for three whole months I did not have a raw salad. You can cook tomatoes, pickle cucumbers and boil all kinds of vegetables but, as far as I knew no-one yet had discovered a way to boil lettuce.

We had arranged to stop in Hawaii for two weeks on our way home.  The plane landed.  We got to our hotel and as we registered I asked about restaurants with a salad bar.  Hotel receptionists are used to a variety of interesting questions.  I was told that there were quite a few restaurants in Honolulu with salad bars.  I smiled politely and told him that after unpacking we would come for directions to one of those restaurants.

After a 12 hour flight from Denpasar to Honolulu we were tired and hungry so it was not long before we were ready to go out for dinner.  We went to the Reception.  There was someone new at the desk.

“Hi. Would you direct us to a restaurant near…”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am….

“Excuse me.  It must have a salad bar”

A curious glance then: “Sure, ma’am.  Do you want seafood, a steakhouse or one with local specialties?”

Bert:  “We are not fussy.  Any of those will do…”

“But it must have a salad bar”, I interjected.

The look has gone beyond curiosity. “Should there be anything special on the salad bar”?

Now I am wondering about that question but decide that maybe she thinks I am a vegetarian.

“It must have lettuce.”  The woman behind us giggled.  The Receptionist’s eyes blink, no doubt to contain her own laughter.  I reviewed the whole conversation in my head and thought perhaps they would decide to ask this crazy woman who seems to have an abnormal fixation on lettuce to vacate the premises.

I laughed and said: “I have not had lettuce in three months and have discovered that I really do love it. There was an undertone of relief as with a smile she said: “Then we must get you to a salad bar right away.”

The Meander:  Prior to our Bali winter lettuce was just lettuce. I ate it.  It was a triviality. However no food has ever tasted as good as that lettuce on that salad bar.  We take so much for granted that sometimes it takes loss for us to appreciate what we have.

 

 

Alzheimer’s World

The first time I heard the phrase Alzheimer’s World I was sitting around a large table at the Alzheimer’s Society office.   It was a mixed group of  persons with Alzheimer’s disease and other dementia and their caregivers.  We were learning about the disease, its progression and available resources.  What they could not teach us was how to live in that alternate world.

Caregivers have no choice. They do live in two worlds, the everyday one we know as the real world and the one that is Alzheimer’s world that our loved ones live in. If we are to be successful caregivers we must learn to also live in that other world.

It is difficult.  Alzheimer’s world is a backwards world because your loved one is on a backwards journey.  Right now my Bert is 85 going on four.  A different puzzle is presented each and every day which only you, the care giver, can solve.  Today he puts on his shoes one brown, one black.  There is an easy solution to that.  You make a joke, point it out and he changes them.  He picks up a slice of bread and calls it cheese.  No problem, you correct it or you say: “that is strange looking cheese.”  That brings on a laugh and: “Did I call it cheese?”

Alzheimer’s world is one of anxiety.  You can empathize.  What if you wake up one morning look at your toothbrush and had no clue what it is, what it does but know you use this thing every morning?  Today you look at a banana and call it steak, even though somehow you know that is the wrong word?  How about getting up to go to the bathroom and being lost in a condo? Would you like to look at a washcloth, while sitting in the bathtub yet completely at a loss of what to do with it?

It gets a little more complicated, of course.  These little slips are unimportant in themselves when they happen once but when they become habit it is a signal that the disease has gained a tiny bit more ground.  Then the caregiver steps in. You take the washcloth and prepare it and explain or show by gestures how it is to be used. Every day I say to my Bert: “Here, start at your face and work your way down.” He gets to work. He now knows what to do and knows why he had that piece of cloth in his hands. More important he is doing it himself.  Dignity is maintained.

Alzheimer’s world is suspicion, anger, feeling lost as well as a loss of control. It is confusion, dependency, a vast expanse of bewilderment. It is a loss of time, place, space, skills.  It is disorienting as your entire world becomes narrower and your trust is placed in that one who is always there that you ‘shadow’, that you trust.

The caregiver cannot stand outside in the real world and look in awe or dismay at Alzheimer’s world.  You must enter it, you must live in it.  Empathy is your power, patience is your tool. The brain is still a mystery. We know in part only. As a caregiver no matter how bizarre that alternate world seems you must suspend your disbelief and go with your loved one into that world.  You ask yourself: “What is it like to be so confused you have to give up your autonomy to someone else?” Then and only then can you serve with understanding and love.

I look at my Bert and when he cannot find the words or gets lost between the kitchen and the laundry I wonder what is happening in his brain.  Does he feel as if he is trying to swim in tar? Does he feel he is in a vacuum?  No wonder dementia patients get angry and lash out at the ones nearest and dearest, the ones they trust implicitly.  We are there, easy targets and maybe this is the way they have a bit of control.  They are engaged in a battle of heroic proportions to stay ahead of an incomprehensible  disease. They wage a daily battle just to BE.

The Meander:  No one can have a desire to live completely in Alzheimer’s world.  It is too awful to contemplate. Yet, as bizarre as this sounds, there are times when you look at what is happening in the ‘real’ world and it is a relief to step into Alzheimer’s world and just focus on your loved one.

The Vow

It is a good morning.  By the time I had finished my shower my Bert had made the bed and was ready and waiting for his bath.  Now breakfast was done and my Bert was sitting, waiting for me to put in his hearing aids.  He looked out the window and said: “It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining. I love this place. It is quiet.”  He smoothed the table cloth and says: “I love this table cover. It is cheerful. This is my favourite shirt. I love my shirt.  You look nice. I love you. You don’t know how much I love you”.  He was smiling. I smiled at the diction of my wonderful toddler/husband and was impelled to write:

The Vow

I will be patient, kind and loving

I will remember “It is the disease”

I will laugh with, talk with, and share with,

I will see an adult who is facing challenges not a recalcitrant child

Even if that‘s the reality.

 

I will not brush off, nor ignore

I will feed and clothe and soothe

I will encourage and praise

I will entertain and join in games

Even when I am tired

 

I will sing a lullaby and blow a kiss

I will mime a story and be silly to jog a memory

I will accept the illogical as the new logic

I will coerce the abnormal to be normal

Even though I reject it

 

I will love and cherish as promised

I will make our home a safe and warm place

I will be wife but accept that I am mother too

I will endure to the end

Of him or me.

 

The Meander:  I see a steady and continuing metamorphosis.  A thief is robbing the faculties.  I note the weakened senses leading to confusion and bewilderment.   I see how much has been diminished, how the familiar terrain is becoming a strange and arid landscape.  I am first row center as this terrible disease plays out its act of destruction.  Yet that appreciation of the simple things and his love epitomizes My Bert.  Yes, the disease may be the victor of the body but not of YOU.

My Bert has been keeping his vow without fail.  I will try to keep mine.