Daily Archives: May 28, 2013

Daily Prompt; Journey

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Tell us about a journey — whether a physical trip you took, or an emotional one.

Photographers, show us JOURNEY.newborn

I started out

As an innocent babe

Naked as a jay bird

Ten fingers

Ten toes

Smiles then giggles

Bottles then spoons

Playing with dolls

Scraped knees

First crush

First kiss

First marriage

Lord no one

Told me giving

Birth would

Hurt so bad

Divorce, does

It always

Have to hurt?

Learning

About myself

Lessons in trust

Quiet house

Laughter from

Grandkids

Aches and pains

Stiffness set in

Friends dying

Lonely heart

Missing loved ones

Making new friends

This is the journey

Of my life.

Terry Shepherd

05/28/2013class reunion

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Parkinson’s Disease or Medicatons?

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English: a shell of an unidentified gastropod

I am being told by nurses at the Nursing Home and the pharmacy that Al‘s new Exelon Patch is not causing him to act so strange. Al reminds me of patients I used to be in charge over. He is dazed. He sleeps more often than not. His lips don’t move so I can’t understand him anymore. He cries all the time and he is confused.

The other day he asked me if I was going to come back for lunch. I was already there and we had just finished lunch. He is now confused about what day it is or sometimes what time of day.

Today when I walked in there he was very depressed looking. Come to find out he thought I was coming earlier. I told him that I don’t come earlier anymore because he is always napping. He apologized, and I didn’t want him to. It isn’t his fault he is napping.

I can’t totally trust the professionals. My gut tells me that part of this is Parkinson’s but another part are these darn medications. I have explained myself repeatedly that I never want Al doped up to the point he is not enjoying his life at all.

This is a drug world we live in. Not just the illegal ones, but the legal ones too. The pimp or supplier is often our physicians. I am upset. To spend the time and the money on gas to only see someone who is a shell really makes my skin crawl.

He has a plate guard that goes over his plate. Today at lunch he could barely lift his spoon up and over the guard. Of course he started crying then but he also wanted to do it himself. He refused any help.

Friday the kitchen was asked by the Nursing Supervisor to puree his meats for the entire weekend. I had been in on Sunday and had brought him a cheeseburger. It took him a half an hour to eat half of it. He finally told me to quit bringing him sandwiches. He refuses most of his meats at the facility.

I have been a licensed CNA for over 23 years. My charting for food intake has been the same no matter where I worked. Here at this facility they mark 50% above or below. There is no monitoring for proteins, sugars, or carbs.

I keep telling them since last week Al is not eating his meats. It has to be a texture thing I think. He chews it alright but then can’t swallow. He gets down applesauce, puddings and ice-creams very well. When I went in today I asked the nurse, the supervisor nurse, and the dietary manager all about the new experiment of puree meats for Al over the weekend.

I got the same response from everyone. I don’t know, I wasn’t here over the weekend.

Did they even try it? I don’t know. What will happen to Al if he gets too little protein? The Dietary Manager said she could substitute his meats for cottage cheese and yogurt. I didn’t realize yogurt was a protein. I guess I learn something new every day.

So what is going on? Is this Parkinson’s Disease causing him problems with swallowing? Is it the medications making the swallowing lazy? Or is he just too out of it to put any effort into swallowing?

When I got home from seeing Al there was a message for me. The facility has made a new appointment for him at a new neurologist. I don’t mind, but if they put him on more medications that freak him out or make him an empty shell, I swear I am going to scream.

I don’t want my brother to live like this. If he isn’t going to have any life at all, then why bother with anything. I don’t want an empty shell for a brother.

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Daily Prompt; Say Your Name

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Write about your first name: Are you named after someone or something? Are there any stories or associations attached to it? If you had the choice, would you rename yourself?

Photographers, show us  YOU.

For someone who was born without being wanted, my parents spent some time arguing about my name. My real name is Teresa Jane.

My Dad wanted a boy, at least that is what he told me through the years. He changed my nickname to Terry and spelled it like a boy.

My Mother who turned her back on me most of my life, wanted me named after her best girlfriend. I assume her name was Jane. She also thought that she had given birth to someone very special. So she named me Teresa.

Years later at the point I stand on this ground now, I am well-known as Terry. Still many ask me how do you spell it? Terrie, Terri? I always say the same thing. My Daddy wanted a boy so I got spelled like a boy.

Strange that he got his baby boy, and decided he was ashamed of him. He did everything to stay out of this baby boy’s life emotionally. I do know that my Dad was a good man. He had poor ways of being taught how to handle difficult decisions. He basically ignored problems and hoped they would disappear.

When I met my real Mother at 36, I had to wonder why the name she chose for me was such a big deal. She threw me out on the streets the first time I went to visit her. You will never believe the reason why either. I have your curiosity peaked, right? Alright, the truth shall be spoken.

I was almost 2,000 miles a way from my own home. I didn’t know my directions at all. It was Arizona heat.  She kicked me out and locked the doors behind me because I drank the last of her Crystal Light Lemonade.

Wow, talk about emotions. I was angry at her for causing me great fear in the dark streets at night. I was crushed that a Mother could do this to her own child. After all through all of our snail mail letters, she professed her undying love for me. During phone calls before we actually met face to face her words were always the same, I miss you and have always loved you so much Terry.

So, what is this? You toss me out on my rear end to fend for myself? I ended up flagging down a fire truck and in short story, I was returned back to my home safe and sound.

You would think that would have cured me with the I know my Mother loves me.

But it didn’t. It took four more trips so many miles  a way from home before I finally got it. Not all parents want to be parents. Some parents still live in the infant stages in their mind. My Mother saw me as that two-year old or younger.

When she saw me face to face and I was all grown up, something snapped inside of her. She later told me the guilt of  what she had done to Al and me was just too overwhelming.

Yes, I would have to agree. Passing my tiny body around to strange men so you can make some money is pretty sick old woman. What else did you to Al and me that I don’t know about? You sure do carry a huge amount of guilt.

So wow, she and Dad exchanged all those words about what to name me and here I sat with a real Mom who never wanted me, and a wonderful Step-Mom who cared about me the best that she could, since I was not her own.

Al’s name must have caused no problems. He is the seventh in line and now the last to carry his full name. A piece of cake, and yet he was shoved a way. You would think to honor him with a name carried through generations of family men, you would want to show this little boy off!

So what is in a name? For me, I take now the names my grandkids and kids call me. My good friends and their pet names. Because this is what matters today. Who I am, how I fit in to others lives. Who gives a hoot what my parents named me and Al, it didn’t matter at the time.

terry when she was little

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