Morning Inspiration

 This inspiration came at just the right time. Today, I've been told by my Anchor Hospice social worker that I should preplan Bill's funeral (and mine!). UGH! Getting old is the pits! Of course, as my father-in-law used to say, "Consider the alternative!"

So, I went on the Malloy Funeral Home website hoping I could it all online. Nope, might have to go in. Not my favorite thing to do! I am not good with funerals or funeral homes. A new thing to stretch Cindy Downes. . .

I called the funeral home and got someone who didn't know what to do. So, I get to postpone it to tomorrow!

The Next Stage - Hospice Care

Today, I made the decision to place Bill under hospice care. He has declined much faster during these last six months; and now, he is in the last stages of dementia. My goal is to ensure that he remains as comfortable and free from pain as possible during this last transition. The VA uses Anchor Hospice. They were gracious, informative, and took the time to answer all my questions. So far, I am very happy with them.

This has been one of the hardest decisions of my life, even though I know it’s the right one. I was happy to learn that Medicare pays for hospice. What a blessing that is!

I appreciate your good thoughts and understanding as I navigate this next chapter.

Caregiving - PBS Documentary

Everyone in the United States should watch this video from PBS. As it says, there are four kinds of people in the world:

Those who have been caregivers.
Those who currently are caregivers.
Those who will be caregivers
And those who need caregiving.

This film documents the history of caregiving in the United States and reveals the state and the stakes of care in America today. Please share.

https://www.pbs.org/video/caregiving/

Gratitude Journaling

I got up this morning with the realization that, in spite of my difficulties, I am a very blessed person. So, I decided it was time to write another gratitude blog. Here goes:

I get to live in a beautiful apartment that's perfect for me. First, there's a kitchen filled with everything I need for my experiments in the culinary arts.  I have appliances for every application and spices of every kind. I can grind my own wheat, bake my own bread, make a simple, grilled cheese sandwich, or prepare an international feast from scratch - Indian, French, or my current favorite, Mediterranean. 

I have a craft room where I can practice my art - whether it's making birthday cards, sublimating mugs, or creating 3-D pictures of turtles and flowers. I can work alone or with my very special "crafty chicks," a gathering I look forward to every month.

A Roland piano sits my main living area where I see it every day, a reminder that music is always within reach to soothe my soul. I sit down two or three times a day, learning to play just a bit better than the day before. 

My bedroom is a work in progress, decorated in purple and rose – colors that make me feel peaceful and provide a safe space to rest. Butterflies float on the walls, around pictures of outdoor scenery and signs that read: "Accept what is," "Let go of what was," Have faith in what will be," and "Believe in yourself." These remind me of my Stoic philosophy to live each day as it comes. 

I have storage, too - enough for both my "treasures" and my hurricane supplies!  In fact, my closet is so spacious I'm about to set up my sewing machine and serger inside to make sewing more convenient. I put these tools away several years ago because I have no one to sew for, but maybe I can use them now to sew children's clothes for someone else as way to give back.

Finally, I have a pool – four feet of cool, clear, blue water where I can swim my 20 minutes of laps each day to stay fit and "trim." Well, trimmer! LOL! 

In addition to having this perfect-for-me place to live, I have wonderful people in my life. I have two, very special children who take good care of their "mama" making sure I don't go off the deep end! They help me with hard decisions and remind me to take care of myself as well as Bill.

I have friends and relatives who make life exciting with fun "adventures." We share meals at fine dining spots, quirky Hobbit-like cafes, and local diners. We visit museums, attend plays,  and go to the symphony. We play Canasta, Cribbage, and Swoop, challenging each other to keep our memories sharp. We explore unique places, near and far – sometimes even lying on the floor, mesmerized by dazzling lights. And best of all, they put up with my idiosyncrasies and listen when I need to process the emotional roller coaster of Bill being in memory care.

What else could a person want? I am truly blessed. 

An Emotional Day

What a day. So many emotions – happiness, sadness, anger, gratefulness - all crammed into one day. 

The happiness was seeing my son, Wil, and his new dog, Freya, a white husky. Spending the last few days with them was a welcome distraction from losing Oreo.

Today brought the sadness. Wil, headed back to Austin, stopping at the VA so we could visit Bill together. I brought Bill outside to meet Freya. On the way, Bill said, I'm going to see "Oreo." I didn’t correct him-it would have been too upsetting. He was already agitated.

Outside, he recognized Wil right away but was frightened by Freya. Our visit was short; Bill wanted to go back to the safety of his pod. Inside, he grew more anxious, repeating, "help me, help me," over and over, with an occasional "I love you" thrown in as well. In his hallway, he kept saying, "help me hallway, we're back in my hallway, my hallway, help me." It's so hard to hear the confusion in his mind. 

Back in his pod, one of the other residents began shouting at Bill to stop it, even threatening him. At that point, I took Bill and went to find his aide before a fight broke out. I finally spotted her by the nurses' station limping and holding her hip as if she was in pain. She was in the process of taking a medication of some sort. Now, I was angry. "How can she take care of these patients when she's in pain? How can she help get Bill in and out of the Hoya lift or move him around on the bed to change him? Why isn't she at home healing while a capable aide takes her place?" I understand that she may not have sick time, but that doesn't help my husband. 

We finally got Bill settled, and I went to find the head nurse. I discussed the issue and she assured me the problem would be addressed. I left as there was nothing else I could do. 

Generally, I find the care at the VA very good. This was a definite outlier and it makes it hard to leave Bill knowing things like this happen. But what can I do? 

My gratefulness is for a Trader Joe staff member. I stop there occasionally when I'm in Houston because I love Trader Joes! As the staff member packed my freezer bag for me, we chatted about Galveston and Bill. When she finished checking me out, she asked, "What is your favorite color?" I told her purple. She insisted I wait at the register and left. Shortly, she returned with two beautiful bouquets of purple-pink flowers all neatly packed in a bucket with water and wrapped in two paper bags. It was a lovely gesture!

 I'm so grateful for the kind people in my life. It makes all the other emotions less painful. 

 

 

Oreo, My Companion is Gone

 My heart is broken. My sweet companion, Oreo, the one who stood by me through this struggle with Bill—is gone.

I came home from the airport and found her unresponsive, dehydrated, and with severe weight loss. She hadn’t been eating well before I left, but I blamed it on the food issue. She had always been fragile since she was a pup, needing special diets to stay well. Then, in the summer of 2024, we discovered a vegetarian food that she gave her new life. It was like a miracle—suddenly she was healthy, perky, and ready to walk with me again. We were enjoying life together, and I was elated.

But this summer, the company stopped making that food. “Not enough demand,” they said. I tried every other vegetarian brand I could find. I even experimented with making her food myself, desperate to find something she could eat without getting sick. Nothing really worked that she would eat. By the time I left for vacation, she was already picking at her food. I had stocked up on dry food from the original brand and saved three cans of the wet, thinking, When I get back, I’ll figure this out. She’s just being finicky.

But she wasn’t. She was dying. Her kidneys and pancreas were failing, and I didn’t know. I left her when she needed me most. How could I have left her?

The moment I stepped into my apartment, I knew something was wrong. I rushed her to the vet, but it was too late. I had to let her go. Shelly came to help me through it. I stayed with Oreo until she drifted to sleep, and then Shelly stayed for the rest. I just couldn’t.

This morning, I gathered her things. Some went into the closet. Some I’ll take to the humane society. I couldn’t give it all away—not yet. Part of me still hopes I’ll hear her paws on the floor, coming back from using the doggie pee pad in the bathroom.

I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it would come so soon. Oreo was my comfort in this lonely apartment. When I came home crying about Bill, she would curl up next to me, letting me pet her until the tears stopped. She was my cozy companion, always there and never complaining.

Seeing Oreo so thin and unresponsive brought back the conversation the nurses had with me a couple of months ago about the end stage of Alzheimer's. Apparently, if nothing else takes him first (heart etc.), Bill will eventually starve himself to death. Hospice will keep him "comfortable" with morphine and other medications, but what a terrible way to go. How will I survive that? How can I sit by week after week, watching him waste away and be powerless to stop it? The truth is, I have no choice. 

For now, I have to put those thoughts aside. I can't do anything about that.

Instead, I'll run some errands - drop off Oreo's food and medicine at the humane society, then drive up to Houston to visit Bill, if I can pull myself together. Hopefully, he's having a good day. On the way back, I'll pick up groceries.

Then I’ll return home to the silence. It's a sad, sad day. . . 

Walking with Oreo

 Walking With Oreo

There’s a program in town called Walk with a Doc. It’s designed to encourage people to get outside, stay active, and have a doctor on hand just in case. Me? I don’t need Walk with a Doc—I've got Walk with Oreo.

Broken Arrow, OK (2011)

Oreo entered my life as a furry three-month-old, black and white puppy – part Shih Tzu, part Jack Russell. I'd gone to the local humane society to get a cat. But, before I had a chance to tell the volunteer what I was looking for, a woman came in with a basket of puppies. I looked in and saw Oreo scrambling all over the other pups. I knew this was the pet for me. She was all energy, and her name was Oreo. (I do love chocolate!) Oreo bounced instead of walked, ran instead of strolled, and kept me on my toes from day one. 

Oreo-June 2011

Our first home together had a nice backyard, but no fence. However, we lived in a neighborhood with plenty of sidewalks, so daily walks were easy. We both needed exercise, so that's what we did. No need to fence the yard. 

At first, her little legs couldn't keep up, but before long we were walking a mile a day. 

Even when we weren't walking, we were usually together. If I went somewhere Oreo couldn't walk, I put her in a pet sling and carried her around my neck. She learned to travel in the car and stay in a motel. I bought her a doggie highchair so she could see out the car window and her own doggie suitcase for food and toys. We would drive to parks all over Oklahoma and nearby states, just to walk. 

House training was a breeze, and she never chewed the furniture. I did have to use a playpen to protect her from our cats. They were curious about the tiny, black and white fuzzball. Oreo's active personality made the cats want to "bat" at her as if she was a toy!

"What kind of cat is that?" 

During the first year, she developed bladder stones, requiring surgery. The vet removed a baby-food–sized jar of stones; and from then on, she was on a prescription diet. But that didn't slow her down. We continued to walk about a mile a day, her tiny legs trotting beside me, ears flopping in the wind.

Oreo Post-op

Independent Living – A Cottage with a Fenced Yard (2015, Oreo is 4)

Moving into an independent living community was a new chapter for us. Our little cottage had a fenced back yard where I could easily put her out to potty. It was tempting to stop walking; but I would never let her outside alone. I'd heard a horror story about a hawk snatching a small dog right off the ground, and I wasn’t taking any chances with Oreo. Forget the back yard – we walked the neighborhood. 

Our new community also had a dog park, but Oreo wasn't a social butterfly. Sharing wasn't her thing, and she also had a talent for sniffing out disgusting things to eat, which then made her sick. So, the dog park was off limits. We stuck to our walks, one to two miles a day.

Atria - The Woodland Walks (2018, Oreo is 7)

By the time we moved to Atria, Oreo and I had a rhythm. Our new apartment had a beautiful, wooded path winding around the complex – a peaceful retreat from the busyness of caregiving. If we wanted a longer walk, there was a walking trail nearby that went for miles through south Tulsa.

Oreo loved the wooded pathway the most because she would almost always encounter a squirrel. As soon as she spotted one, she'd yank the leash, speed off after it, and chase it up the nearest oak tree. Then she'd jump and bark as if to say, "I got it! I got it!" I don't know what she would have done if she actually caught it!

"I got it! I got it!"

Island Bay – The Canal Years (2021, Oreo is 10)

This move came with a change of scenery: a canal out front, a boardwalk out back, and a new set of challenges. The boardwalk was old, worn, and uneven, making our walks feel more like an obstacle course. 

The canal was about twelve feet below the apartments, so there was a grassy bank that flowed down from the sidewalk to the canal. One day, Bill was walking Oreo when a squirrel ran by. Oreo jerked the leash, hard, and Bill lost his balance. Before he knew it, Bill was rolling down the hill, arms flailing. A neighbor came running and rescued him. That was the last time he walked Oreo.

Still, Oreo and I kept going, logging our daily miles, navigating the boardwalk, dodging loose boards, and always keeping an eye out for squirrels. Some days, we'd pause to watch the pelicans swoop down for a light snack or the silver mullet leap from the water.

Pelican watching!

Lakeside at Campeche Cove - Slowing Down (2023, Oreo is 12)

Our next apartment had lovely green spaces tucked between the buildings. I thought of them as my very own English Garden. Oreo, on the other hand, saw them as battlegrounds – filled with other dogs walking the same paths, sniffing the same spots, and invading her territory! Over time, we figured out which dogs we could tolerate and which ones we couldn't. Still, we logged one to two miles a day.

"I don't know. They smell weird!"

But something else was happening. My once-springy, eager pup began slowing down. Our walks shrank to half a mile - some days, she could barely walk at all.  

Then things got worse.

She stopped eating. Slept all day. Diarrhea. Vomiting. Repeat. I even canceled a cruise because I couldn't bear to leave her. Nothing the vet tried seemed to help. She continued to get worse.

Finally, in the spring of 2024, I took her in one more time and gave the vet an ultimatum: Do something, I told him, or I'll have to let her go.

His answer? A vegetarian diet. I was skeptical but desperate enough to try anything.

Cove at GYB – The Comeback (2024, Oreo is 13)

Just before our move to The Cove at GYB, something incredible happened. The vegetarian diet worked! So much so, I've been cutting back on my meat as well!

Within five days, Oreo bounced back. Her tail wagged again. She had energy. She wanted to walk. She even wanted to run! Suddenly, my frail, aging companion was acting like an eight-year-old—bounding around, eyes bright, and eager to go! 

We began walking again - up to two miles a day! And not just that - she was climbing stairs. Three flights of them! 

Walking with Oreo (2025, Oreo is 14)

Oreo has been my walking partner for 14 years now. We both have some gray hairs, but we're still out there– walking, exploring, living. Acting younger than we really are. 

Because the best way to stay young . . . is to keep walking.