Al Fell

These past few days Al has been getting regular doses of pain medication. Along with his pain patch he has seemed to feel a bit better.

In fact his pain level is low enough, that he has become bold. His neck stays up a little longer. He reaches down to pick something up off the floor. He has tried letting loose of a stable object and try walking.

I have had many occasions with him where I have been able to talk to him about the dangers he is putting his body in. Bending over without the brakes on the wheelchair being locked is a big no-no and I have told him so.

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing him in less pain. I love seeing him a bit more like his old self, but the fact is; he is still very sick. The illness hasn’t declined, it is only hidden by our infamous pharmacy companies help.

Al is blind sighted by this and it has scared me for a while now. This morning he slept in until I finally woke him because of medication times being very important. He ate good. I think his appetite has picked up some. I appreciate this although I hate to see him put any of his loss of weight back on.

After breakfast I washed him up and got him dressed. He brushed his teeth and I shaved him and trimmed up his mustache. He then wanted to sit in his lift chair. I got him located properly for transfer and locked his brake.

I stayed near him and watched carefully as he stood up and transferred the two steps needed to get in the chair. After the first step everything changed. He let loose of  his support and down he went.

He hit the floor with a big thud. I actually felt the floor shake under me. As he was falling my brain kicked in. I couldn’t stop the fall but I did reach out and grab his shirt and hung on for dear life.

I think it saved him from injuring himself on the container that holds his briefs, liners and pads. I hate myself when I can’t stop it from happening. I just couldn’t grab him fast enough. I checked him out and saw no blood or damages. I helped him back in the lift chair and I could see that he was very shaken up.

I didn’t want to cause more emotional damage but I had to throw in the remark that he needs to somehow come to terms with his illness. He has to admit it at least to himself that his body is sick and very weak.

He told me that he forgot, which maybe he did. I think our minds are used to doing what has come normal for many years. Walking, talking and breathing. When the body becomes sick and weak and these things we are used to doing without thinking become a struggle, maybe our minds don’t want to admit we are changing.

Maybe there is a part of Al which is desperately trying to prove the illness wrong. I don’t know. I know that I can convince my mind thoughts of things that aren’t quite as they seem, so I assume Al can too.

I had to call the Hospice nurse and she came and checked him out and made a report on him. His blood pressure was low she said. It was 85/58. When she told me this I knew that this could be a large tribute to why he may have fallen.

I will be watching more carefully when he rises from a sitting position, making sure he is steady before that first step. Al has been complaining periodically about blurred and double vision. I wonder if his low blood pressure has anything to do with it. Or maybe it is a side effect from his illness or the fact that he is taking one of the pain medications on a more regular basis.

Tonight after supper, which he ate really well, I washed him up and changed his brief. I helped him get in his lift chair and he seemed to be more careful and cautious. When he was seated and comfy he looked at me and asked, “I am so tired of being sick, when is God going to get me out of this and take me home?”

Al July 4th

#FWF Free Write Friday


Today Kellie has given us permission to just write. To think about what binds us from being the free person we are meant to be.

When I think of this topic and realize my freedom to write what I choose I think of sad things and happy things.

But there is one area in my life that remains a constant shadow. No matter how many posts I write there is one taboo that I write about rarely. I have mentioned this person in the book I am writing called  Parkinson’s Journey.

I think I have written about her indirectly but never addressed her in the way Kellie is asking us to do.

Maybe I can do this. It can’t really harm me, maybe it can heal me or put it to rest, at least. The topic is my half-sister, J for short.

This woman is ten years younger than me. She has been given every opportunity by our parents and still has nothing. Where I am day, she is night. Where I abide by the rules, she slides under the ruler.

Her children have suffered and I am sure somewhere deep inside her she is suffering. When we carry extra baggage for so many years and depend on that to excuse us from our own actions, it is time to let it go.

I have been healing through writing and yet she is still in the same rut doing nothing but spinning her tires. So why does she eat my guts up so bad? Maybe there is some sisterly jealousy. I have to smack myself for even partaking in this as I have nothing to be jealous of.

She has touched spots in my heart of people so dear to me. She has tried so hard to destroy me. Although she has not won, her actions still continue to haunt me today. She has caused Al to be afraid. We do not mention her name in our home.

I want to do what I wish and not be afraid of being arrested. I want to grab a hold of her and shake her good. I want to scream at her, stop what you are doing. Change your values. Look at your kids. Look at your life. How can you deny the fact that your own brother is ill? When Al placed me in a position to have to see you face to face it was one of the hardest things I have done in years. But when I told you to your face that Al wanted you to know that he is sick and he is afraid that he is going to die, you screamed and cursed at me to get out. To leave and never come back. You accused me of being a  liar, trying to start problems. You said Al is not even sick. When your best friend reached out to you last week begging you to call me to let you know of Al’s health today, you told her no,, no way in hell would you make that call.

I swear, I have given you every chance to come to your senses. To see the world straight, as it really is, to not be blind sighted, but you refuse. There will come a time when you will become broken. When you wake up and see Al laying on a white pillow with his Bible in his hands. When you see that all these months I have been telling the truth, there is a part of me that will snicker and leer at you and through you as you weep for your wrong doings. But the Christian woman in me will not allow me to continue to act in this way. If you do fall down and your soul splits open your chest bone. If you are so sorry and sincere I know that I will reach down and help you up. I will help try to do what God would want me to.

But at this moment, sitting here writing this, things have not changed. Things are rotten in Denmark, as they say, and all I can do is pray that you come to your senses sooner than later. Right now I just want to smack the crap out of you, but I won’t. For my own personal sanity, I will not venture your way. I will stay my distance. If you want to know anything about your sister and brother, you will have to be the one who makes that first step. I am tired of trying.



Love, What Once Was

I saw him coming towards me. Looking straight a head his eyes never meet mine. His soul being left behind from years gone by. Memories he lived with, a cold heart remains still.

There was once upon a time when our eyes would meet and the heat between us would fire up as if someone had stoked our coals. We would reach out for one another, hands touching, hearts beating to the rhythm of love.

We became one again as we lay on the familiar places that hold our most intimate secrets that only the two of us have ever created. In the shadows of the night his touch would fill spots that only he knew in such a personal way.

No fumbling, accurate timing, taking me to limits way above the clouds. But now, only slight memories remain. Digging deep into my past, trying to surface what is left, only to find tears being shed from my eyes. The heart takes a dip and lowers into doom and if I am not careful, I can fall in to the pit of depression.

Today, he walks by me, our arms do not brush and I look out over the horizons wondering my future. Remembering what once was and what could once be again. Wanting to be touched but returning to my cold, empty bed once again.

Lying in the darkness, my cat reaches out to me, purring and cuddling up to me. I reach out knowing exactly his favorite places to touch. Behind his ears, rubbing his belly, he purrs, showing me he is enjoying the special attention. Letting me know he is forever my friend, snuggling up close to me.

Even my pet seems to know that his owner is lonely, and as he tries to do his best, I wait, while two tears fall to the side, hoping and carrying my faith that once again I will know love.


[ART for a cause] This one is for an old man suffering from Parkinson’s [a sketch]

Reblogged from so i wrote:

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i drew this one for an old man, half way around the world, suffering from Parkinson’s and heart disease. As per his sister Terry, he likes Vintage cars and Coca cola.

i have seen Vintage cars (more vintage ones than the BMWs et…

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