Lost

Sometimes I write to show you something and sometimes I write for my own healing. Today is the latter reason; for my own healing.

I used to be so bubbly. I was always ready to go somewhere and laugh tons and enjoy the day. I don’t know what has happened to me.

If I am in a crowd of people; I want to be home sooner than later. I used to sit and listen to people talk and tell their stories but anymore I have learned these stories cause some pain because of plain, old gossip.

I used to jump up and eat and get dressed and put the make-up on; not anymore. I do feel awesome when I first wake up. I feel little pain. I give my thanks to God for this day. I would rather now take my time and I discovered this past few months, that not long after I am awake; I could go back to sleep if time allowed.

I don’t cry. I haven’t cried since my brother passed almost five years ago. I think between losing him and my dad; I just cried all my tears until they are permanently dried up.

I volunteer each week. I love it but I find myself almost wishing I didn’t have to get up and go. Once I am on my way; I am good to go.

People get on my nerves so much anymore and that used to never happen. I was always a people person.

I have a few excuses as to why this change has happened. Winter? It’s always a long winter  here in Northern Indiana. Shorter days of light? Maybe. The place I live in? Perhaps. I was told by the manager at the time I applied that this building was really hopping.

All sorts of activities to attend, friendly people. This has not proved to be the case as now living here for two years, what I mainly see is a variety of people. Senior Citizens live here. Disabled adults live here. Mentally challenged people live here.

This leads to a variety of things to see on a daily basis. In fact, I just saw a post taped to an escape door on my floor. “If we see such and such, please don’t let  him in.” This  happens so much here.

There are illegal activities here almost daily. Maybe this is another reason I  hibernate in my room. I posted this topic before and had a reference made back to  me that this is happening everywhere. If it truly is then this is a sad state of world we live in.

Maybe I am just plain living in the fifties. I shouldn’t be of course. I was born in the fifties. Maybe I should take that back and say sixties. I would just love to live in an area that is safe, an area that doesn’t reach below freezing for most of the winter.

I think about moving farther down in Indiana and then I instantly think of my kids. Nope, can’t do it. I tried it different times in earlier years and always came back home. I am telling you though; this weather, this cold and frigid weather hurts my body and mind and spirit.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore. I just know, that I don’t have that bright spirit. I could sleep and hibernate for days upon in and yet I don’t like this at all.

Well, I don’t know if you can relate. I don’t even know if I helped heal myself. I just know I need a change. Lord help me figure this out.

I am a Nut in a Shell

I woke-up early in a good mood. After sitting in bed a few minutes I decided I really wasn’t ready to get up. I laid back down and slept another hour. This time I had to get  up and was ready also.

I took my shot and my medications then drank my first cup of coffee. I turned on a movie that I had seen last night on the news. It was called, Abducted Twice in Daylight; I think. It was about this small town where everyone knew and were good friends.

A neighbor and his family had moved in next door. The two families became close friends, sharing their lives together like most neighbors do. What happened from there, didn’t really shock me but I was more into what is going on in the minds of sick people. It was a movie I watched to the end.

I don’t know if I have ever been that trusting in my entire life to  have made some of the decisions these parents of the kidnapped girl did. Maybe I have a more suspicious mind. It seems to me that in this movie, things would have got nipped in the bud long before people’s lives got hurt. You will have to check this movie out and let me know what you think.

The next thing I did was get dressed and put on some make-up. I have been applying make-up to cover some of the age spots I have. I have always had a fear of dying and getting old. Don’t ask me why. I already know I am going to heaven and I realize I can’t stop the process.

I went into the bathroom and tried to do something with my hair. I actually hate my hair cut I got a few months back. It didn’t turn out like I wanted at all. I may have already mentioned this in a prior post, but after the hair cut cutting began; I learned the stylist was new. A nightmare is what I call it. It can only grow out in my opinion.

I used a mirror to see the back of my hair in the bigger mirror. I almost fell over and I felt my jaw drop big. What I saw was this hugs area of small thinning, maybe bald spots. Oh my gosh. I am getting old.

Instantly, any good thoughts about how I looked at myself were gone. I wanted to change my clothes back to bed clothes and hide under my covers. My opinion of myself as being outgoing and not too bad looking for almost being 65, and the thoughts that there are others heavier than me, came tumbling down like and eruption of boulders falling to the road.

I did the best that I could. I decided then and there I would not color my hair a darker shade anymore. I would let it go back to its natural blonde. This way the baldness wouldn’t be so bold.

I put everything away, and got me a cup of coffee. Here I set at the computer talking to you and yet my heart is still sinking and my self-worth is almost shot. I always wanted to be accepted, a thing from my childhood. I always wanted people to know that I was a compassionate, caring and empathetic woman. Why in the world do I want to hide myself now over bald spots?

 

This Could Be You

You have been a part of the family your entire life. You know which ones you look forward to seeing and which ones to hide from.

Year after year you spend holidays together. You know the routine, then one year; everything changes. Uncle Ray passed away. Aunt Betty is now in a nursing home.

The cousins you played with are all grown and go to their own holiday gatherings. The big, oval table looks smaller. The laughter not quite as loud.

Some of your favorite foods are no longer there. Yes, life certainly changes doesn’t it?

Then the next year you go, a bigger change than ever has happened. Your favorite Aunt Sue is different. You don’t know what happened exactly but something sure did.

She repeats herself over and over. She wanders the familiar house like she has never been in it before. She walks up to me and ask me my name. I say,” You know my name. It’s Bill. Remember? You used to call me little Billy.”

She looks at you and nods her head. She wonders off and in less than ten minutes, she is back, asking you the same question, “What’s your name?”

You soon find yourself walking to another room when you see her coming. You feel guilt because you love her so much, but my gosh, she’s asked you five times who you are.

By the end of the day, you learn that she has Alzheimer’s disease. You have heard of it but don’t know much about it. When the holiday is over you return to your own home.

On the next free time you have; you research this disease. You find ways to interact with your Aunt. You give a donation to the foundation to help find a cure.

On the next holiday you seek her out. You go to her and put your arm around her. Looking her straight in the eyes you tell her hello and how much she has meant to you all these years

Written by,
Terry Shepherd

This disease can strike about the same time you are thinking about your retirement years. It’s a sad disease to watch and you can feel very frustrated and emotional watching your loved ones go through it. The best thing to do is not get angry. Don’t argue with the patient with this illness. You will lose.
Give a donation and help find a cure.

 

 

https://www.alz.org/

Seniors, Poverty and Why?

I was watching the news this morning. This is something I don’t do much anymore for exactly the reason I am going to blog about. The bad news out weighs the good news. It seems people really want to hear the negative or else why would the news be so popular.

 

The topic this morning affected my age group.

A) Seniors filing bankruptcy at a higher rate more now than ever♦

B) Rents raise for the poor♦

 

Why would Seniors file bankruptcy? In my parents era, there was a savings of several years hard work that helped when they retired. In today’s world, so many included benefits have been jerked away in order to save the companies money. The fall-out in 2010 did a lot of damage.

 

The co-pays on insurance have risen above being able to meet, forcing out- of- pockets to empty faster. Insurance companies seem to fight more on even paying what they should. Costs of medications, doctor appointments, and the outrageous prices being charged for inpatient hospital stays are absurd.

No wonder Seniors are struggling. They are forced to work for longer years before retiring and without the extra help government and retirement benefits would be given at the age of sixty-two, life becomes financially in a ruin. Sometimes bankruptcy is the only answer in order to be able to afford what has to be paid for.

 

Why would anyone charge the poor more money on rental properties and leave the moderate and rich alone? Is the secret name of the game to actually dismiss and rid the poor, leaving the fortunate ones to thrive?

 

I don’t  understand any of this. I know in my area and I also have mentioned this before in my other posts, I live in the Orthopedic Capital of the world. Is everyone in my area working at one of these fine manufacturing companies? No, they are not. It is easy to see that the rental prices of homes and apartments are skyrocketing here; but what about those who aren’t fortunate enough to work in these places?

 

Go back to school, further your education; is this your thought? It used to be mine too, but today, the cost of technical colleges and the bigger colleges is almost beyond our reach. The almost guaranteed job offer is not so much in our sight and of course that leaves us with paying those high college loans off. Some people are bettering themselves some, but the paying off those loans is for many years to come.

 

Landlords don’t keep the properties up to date because they would 1. like to keep the profit and 2. some can not afford the prices to do the updates.

 

It is a sad situation. I know for myself, I would love to have a little more freedom and less rules. I would love to have the inner fears removed that if I don’t do this or follow that rule; I am out of here.

 

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I know there are rules, but rules are changed without voting. Rules can be changed and worded differently day to day. What about having the choice to sit in your yard and have a cookout? This is not allowed here.

 

What about planting flowers? We have employees that do that here. We can watch the flowers grow, but what about helping make that happen? What about having the joy of sitting out under the picnic tables, under the shade trees? Taking our tea or coffee and chatting with others?

 

We have benches here and the benches sit under the sun. We have one patio table with four chairs, that I am not sure would hold me and this patio table is to be adequate for eighty-two apartments.

I don’t mean to sound like I am bitching. I truly am not. My thoughts on this are; hey, we made it to our Senior years. We worked hard. We helped our spouses. We fought in the war. We raised our children. We deserve to not live in fear wondering where our next home will be and where funding will come from and; can we afford it.

 

We don’t want to have to file bankruptcy. We worked hard our entire lives and never saw those big, heavy courtroom doors. Why now? Why would anyone want us to have to wait for our retirement? Why would they raise only the elderly and poor’s rents?

 

Perhaps it is true. People don’t want us around or people believe we are children in grown bodies and are pretty much worthless and just taking up space until death takes us.

Well, this is why I don’t watch too much news. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. What is going to happen to our grown children? Their time is coming. What can we do to help them when we can’t even help ourselves.

 

One Small Town= All Towns

The story goes; when you’re old and retired, time to relax. Is it really a relaxing time of life? I sat in on a meeting today here where I live. It was very interesting to listen to. The topic was about family law, wills and end of life decisions.

Sounds kind of gloomy to me. I actually have to face the facts that I am aging. It didn’t surprise me that the questions that rose from the people sitting around listening to the speaker had a little fear in their attitudes.

It is scary. I’m not going to lie. Maybe, at an earlier time, there was more financial stability or nice vehicles or food on the table. Here where I live, a spouse may have deceased. A job is no longer worked, and fixed income is a familiar phrase.

When you live in a surrounding where rules change at a drop of a hat; this does nothing more than raise the fear level. Many don’t have choices here. I am speaking about housing.

Where would they go if they do not co-operate with management changes? For even me, this could be a problem. I am sure that if I were without a roof, one of my children would provide a roof for me temporarily.

The issue becomes stress and worry though. Where do we go, if we can’t find a place to live. Here in my city, the rates for apartment living are beyond high. I live in the Capital of the Orthopedics city. For those who work in those factories; life is probably pretty good. For those who don’t work in that type of business, or have limited funds, what are they to do?

The speaker answered some questions with answers of perhaps being able to help. Some questions asked were not part of his area. You know what happens to Seniors when stress and worry about shelter and food are a daily worry? Heart attacks, the rise of blood pressure, strokes.

I just don’t see that being older and on fixed incomes is a fantastic way to live. I see it as a Survivor game. Who wants to play this game? No one volunteers to be the first player. I feel bad for all of us capped under “fixed income” people.

There are new apartments rising, which is good. They are for limited incomes. Do you know how fast these fill up? By the time you hear the word about it; they are all spoken for.

There are times, I get depressed. There are times, that I live, remembering to be thankful for what I do have. There are times when I have extra food and share it with my neighbors. We do what we need to do and we remember to keep our faith strong and be thankful for what we have.

How do we fix our problems of aging? I don’t know the answers. I wish I did. I would want to see everyone in here smile a sigh of relief and to know they are each safe and sound.

God bless and thank-you for letting me speak my heart tonight.

Goodnight.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

I Can’t Solve my own Puzzle

Wonder how many of you can relate to this post. I was a part of a family. I took care of my children. I had a side business in Antiques. Everyone grew up and moved on. Marriage dissolved.

Now I am older and alone. The lack of full-time work when I was younger,didn’t help me now that I collect that Disability check. I should be so grateful for my roof and bills paid, but what about the extra money I don’t receive? You know, where you want to buy food but can’t do much of that?

My health keeps me from working. Even if I could work, the government takes away the things I need most, such as insurance. I hate living off the government. I am not one of those who sits at home on purpose and collects, when I could be working.

Having Parkinson/ Ataxia/Dystonia, isn’t something that is easily turned into cash. I am safe, as far as the term goes, not living in the streets, but is it bad to want a little more? Wouldn’t it be so much nicer if I got to choose the foods I ate, instead of taking what is offered through other means? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the help, but I wish I didn’t have to take it.

I don’t consider myself a loser woman. I think myself as intelligent as others my age. I have looked into photography selling. I have joined a couple of groups. Plenty look, but no sales after too much time has passed.

I can write, or at least think I can, but it doesn’t pay. I have written and published a couple of books. I sell them, but I can’t buy groceries for a weeks time on the profits.

I paint, but I am definitely an artist only in my own mind.

What do people do at this point in their life? For me, no amount of searching has lead me to any real profit. I sit here daily and hope for change, but then I frown when I can’t find it.

Even after three years of getting no cost of living through Social Security, I finally received a small raise. The government then raised my rent and my auto insurance went up, you know, they yearly increases? I actually ended up going in the hole for 2018.

How do fixed income, senior citizens make a little extra, so things like food choices or a much needed pair of walking shoes can be had?

So depressing at times when, but haven’t been able to fix it yet. Perhaps one day.

Daily Prompt/One Word Prompt

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/vague/

The word for today is; Vague

adjective

1. of uncertain, indefinite, or unclear character or meaning.

   “many patients suffer vague symptoms”

   synonyms:

   indistinct, indefinite, indeterminate, unclear, ill-defined; More

   • thinking or communicating in an unfocused or imprecise way.

     “he had been very vague about his activities”

    

 

Esther lived in a community building full of adults. Some walked with walkers. Others had wheelchairs and some were able to walk without assistance.  Everyone seemed for the most part to get along with each other.

The biggest concerns were are sort of like a family living all under one roof. We get to know most personalities and when there is a resident who talks in a vague way or says something totally out of character, we worry.

What can we do? Nothing really. We are only roommates. It would be wonderful if friends and family members came and visited; even once in a while. How easy it would be for those of us to be able to let the family hear of our concerns.

Our hands are tied. We can make a move as far as letting others know or if it is seeming to be serious, we can contact the manager, but in the meantime, we have to sit by and do nothing.

The way I look at it is; the residents are someone’s mother, grandmother, grandfather and friend. You spoke to them before they moved here for various reasons. You can keep in touch with them while living here also.

There, I voiced my opinion. Thank-you for reading.

Bring Back What Was Once Mine

The sun goes down. Music is turned from the streets and now plays in your head. Dancing fireflies, wickedly spinning from cell to cell, creating new ideas that could possibly change your mindset.

You feel no pain but the ache in your heart becomes active and the smile you knew through the shining sun; now disappears, entering questions of darkness that no one seems to understand or see the answers.

You remember the exact spot where the big, brown dusty box with the rusty lid rest. You go to it and you stare at it as if you are trying to burn holes in the skin so you don’t actually touch what is inside.

Seeing nothing happening, you touch the brass handle and with two delicate hands, you pry open the lid. You raise it and listen to the squeak of the aged hinges. Being able to lift it no higher, it stands proud, inviting you to revisit what was once alive.

You scan as if you are taking an x-ray until you see the off-white, stained material. You pick it up and gently place it in your hands. You nuzzle it and press it close to your bosom. You walk over to the rickety, wood rocker and sit down.

The rocker moves to the music you are humming.  The words dance happily in your head and you skip back in time remembering what once was yours. The hour passed and it was almost too dark to see to return back to the reality of today. She gently lay her friend back in the spot she had retrieved it. She quietly lowered the lid and made her way back to the chair by the window.

I Have Nothing to Live For

I have nothing to live for. These were the words that Thelma whispered over and over.

Thelma had Alzheimer’s disease. It had attacked her many years ago, and if I know anything at all; it is that she shouldn’t have to suffer much more.

Her children and grandchildren used to visit quite often; but once Thelma couldn’t remember who those once familiar faces were, visitors strayed and came rarely.

I am Phil. I am her caregiver. I received a call one day from the agency I worked for. I went in for orientation and learned that family had decided they had had enough. If mom/grandma was going to forget who her own family was, then screw it. Someone else could take care of her.

It was a cloudy, brisk day, the first day I entered that home. The drapes were closed. Artificial lighting was all that could be seen. There she was, sitting in a straight chair over at the kitchen table. She didn’t say a word that I, the stranger, had just let myself in with the key given to me.

I walked over to her and introduced myself. She stared ahead, rocking back and forth. She held an old rag doll in her arms and she rocked back and forth on her chair.

I studied her for a moment, as if trying to suck in all the life that once lived in these walls. I said in a whisper , “What a shitty thing to do. I bet this woman loves her family. Instead of learning about the disease and being here in these last months, they throw her off on someone else.”

Day after day, I returned for my normal shift. I tidied the house, did her laundry, fixed her meals. I set up a Christmas tree and asked her if she would like to help decorate it. ” I have nothing to live for.”

“Yes you do Thelma. You have plenty to live for. It is almost baby Jesus’s birthday. Don’t you want to help celebrate his birthday”?

She stopped rocking and her eyes turned to my face. She said nothing, but clung tighter to her doll. I reached out my hand and placed an ornament in it. With my help, she stood, and I guided her to the tree. She looked at me and instead of seeing nothing; I saw a tear, then two.

I placed my arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. With my help, she hung the ornament. There was silence in the room so I started humming Silent Night.

She turned to me and said, “Baby Jesus, Nancy, Rita and John. I asked,” Who are Nancy, Rita and John, Thelma?” She looked me straight in the eye saying, “Children, they are my children. I have nothing to live for.”

Written by my feelings,
Terry Shepherd

#Education
#Alzheimers

 

Going A Way Party

I did a photo shoot of a party that was held here in our community. Below are the photos I took.