Tear Tsunami

A wave, more like a tsunami, of tears hit me today. In fact I am trying to write my way through them. My therapist, doctor and friends warmed me about these waves of grief. I wish they were done. I don't like these feelings.

I am not sure of the trigger. There are so many things muddled together. I haven't left the house in two days. I haven't had the energy to get out of bed, but the cat eventually forced the situation each day. Tomorrow I have a lunch date that I cannot get out of - I only know her work email as a contact. Getting up and out of the house may help.

I have eaten. I managed to go to the grocery store and purchase ready made comfort food - potatoes, turkey and gravy. Maybe too many carbs? But at least I am eating.

The "30" day period has just come and gone, maybe that is part of it. I found out today that someone slightly related to me, living in another country, may also have MSA. I was asked to please write a Press Release letter for MSA Awareness Month, a skill way beyond my competence. I found an editor who graciously helped me through the process.

The tipping point came when the county sent me another estate recovery letter today. They want proof of Dennis' checking, savings and other financial accounts as of the date that he died. They want money. It was just one too many things.


All of this is simple life, I know that. And I also know that I have to face all of it, and I am responsible for my life. But I don't want to be right now. I want someone to take care of me and fix all of this. And at the same time that is exactly what I do not want.

And I guess all of that adds up to a wave of tears and sadness overwhelming me once in a while.

Ann, not dealing with grief with a smile today

MSA Awareness

As many of you know, Dennis died of a rare neurological disorder called Multiple System Atrophy. This disease is considered an orphan disease, meaning it is so rare that it affects too few people to be given much thought by the medical community, politicians, and funding for research.

However, currently there is a petition that you can sign that only asks that MSA be brought to the attention of others. I would be very appreciative if you would take a few minutes to sign this petition. Signing it will not bring new information to your inbox (unless you choose it to do so) and will do you no harm. It may, just may however, bring MSA the attention it is due.

MSA Awareness Petition

A Painting for Dennis

A while before Dennis died, I started painting a series of paintings using symbols that promoted good health. This was the last one I painted.

I am an abstract artist, so this may not be your cup of tea. But Dennis liked it and I loved it.

It is Dennis (on the right) yelling at his brain (the big head shaped thing - he did have a big head) to start working the way it was suppose to work. The angel is because we both knew all the yelling, anger and frustration in the whole wide world would not change the outcome. Dennis was dying and we knew it.

Those last years of care-giving were difficult at the best of times. But I was proud of the way both of us handled Dennis' impending death. We fought like hell to make life as good as possible. We also learned to accept the inevitable with grace and honesty. We spoke, cried and yelled our anger out, especially during the last 6 months.

Ann

Lake Street

I live on the far west side of Minneapolis. Yesterday I had a meeting on the far east side of Minneapolis' twin city, St Paul. There are several ways to get from one city to the other, most involving highways, but given the snow and the crawling pace of traffic, I chose to take the direct route on one of the more famous streets in Minneapolis and in St. Paul.

I live a few blocks off of a street named Excelsior which turns into Lake Street as you near Lake Calhoun, one of the uptown lakes in Minneapolis. It continues to be called Lake Street until you cross the Mississippi and enter St. Paul, where it becomes Marshall. I don't know as much about the history of Marshall, but I do know Excelsior and Lake Street quite well.

When I first moved to Minneapolis, some thirty plus years ago Excelsior was where my friends and I would go to party. There were a few bars with music and tons of people. And there was Miracle Mile - probably one of the original strip malls in the states. The rest of Excelsior was a blur to me - I don't recall there being any other reason to be on Excelsior.

Lake street had distinct areas - uptown on the west, the large Sears store and K-Mart as you headed toward the less reputable parts of Lake Street and then the east side, which consisted of an odd assortment of stores, bars, and a few houses.

When Dennis and I lived in south Minneapolis, I often drove this route going west to take him to the emergency center or the hospital, which are just a bit west of where I live now. It was always rush hour, after I came home from work and the drive seemed to be a chore. I was tired, hungry and Dennis was hurting somewhere, somehow.

Yesterday I thought about how this route has evolved over the years. Miracle Mile is still a mainstay of Excelsior on the south end, but the bars on the north side have been replaced by medical clinics, chain stores and restaurants and condominiums galore. As it turns into Lake Street, the uptown area was once a bustling shopping stop full of unique stores. It has changed many times over the years, but it has always been a place for the independent minded to live and congregate.

The next part of Lake street has it mainstays - but the culture of the street has changed. What was one time considered a fairly dangerous part of town filled with drugs and hookers and drunks, has become a multi-cultural plethora of ethnic restaurants and stores.

I could go on, but I won't.

What crossed my mind as I drove this road was how much life has changed since I first moved here. Life is always evolving, as is this street.

There was some peace in thinking about that yesterday. Just a little bit of peace.

Quiet

For the past 10 years, a television set has been on from morning until bedtime. Dennis was addicted, even though he never really watched it much. He just wanted the noise, I guess.

Dennis talked a lot, when he was able. He still talked a lot when no one could understand him. He talked all of the time.

The past six months, since I retired from teaching, Raquel, his PCA, was around and we chatted together. Then Dennis and Raquel would chat. Then we would all chat. And of course, the TV was still on in the background.

The phone was ringing constantly. Doctor appointments, travel agents, medical supplies, travel arrangements, hospice,,,,

Always some noise.

Now it's always quiet. Even the cat is a quiet cat. I still turn on the television, but I turn it off if I am not watching something. I talk to the cat quiet often, but "Pretty kitty" does not make for a stimulating conversation.

The phone doesn't ring as much any more. And that's okay, I never have liked phone calls much.

It's just quiet. It's okay, but different.