Maybe A Miracle For A Few Hours?


Indirect myofascial release, Charlotte Stuart ...

Indirect myofascial release, Charlotte Stuart doing pain reduction procedure, Nelson, New Zealand (Photo credit: Wonderlane)

The last four days were so nice for Al and me and then it ended this morning. His tremors were back to full force and he was having a lot of pain. His whole day seemed to be nothing but tears and pain.

His shower girl came and he spoke to her of death and he cried the complete time she was here. She even remarked what a change there was from Monday. Then one of his therapist came and did some exercises and he cried and complained of too much pain. He would tell her he wanted to quit because he hurt too bad. She really did not let up, as I assume she knew what she had to do as his therapist, but my heart ached for his pain.

After she left it was only fifteen minutes until the next therapist came. This doesn’t usually happen this way, but today it did. When she came in I told her he was in a lot of pain and was not feeling well, and I didn’t know what kind of luck she was going to have with him, since the other therapist had just left.

I told her he was in bed, that he had headed there as soon as the last lady left. This therapist is what I call the cream of the crop. Not only does she know her job well, she is kind and compassionate, and does her best to bring Al’s spirits around. She told me she was going to go back to his room and do some massages on him, and I instantly felt jealous! LOL

She was back there about a half an hour, and when she came back she said that he was totally relaxed and asleep. She explained to me what she did, and that it was something that was not practiced that much anymore, but she hoped that it would help him. She explained that he could feel relaxed only for the moment, or it may last a few hours.

She said that his body was a limp noodle right now, and I just looked at her. She said he is so relaxed, that he was not even having one tremor. The procedure she used on him that not many use anymore is called Myofascial Release.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myofascial_release

This is a link that I found online after she left, because of course, I always have to google what I don’t know so I can get with the picture. I placed it here in case any of you want to check it out for yourself or someone you know that could benefit.  I went in and peeked in on him, and he is lying very still with his body totally stretched out. Wow, that must feel wonderful to him.

I am not even going to wake him up, since supper is in the crock pot, it will be safe, ham and beans on a chilly day. I will let him sleep until he wakes on his own. I am so anxious to see if there is a change in his personality or his movements and what he has to say about the whole massage.

Let’s keep our fingers crossed and hope that it last a few hours instead of a moment. I will let you know later on how it went.

A New Phase


I don’t know if something is happening inside of Al, or he has finally begun to open his ears and start hearing me. He has said good-bye to the bad mood, and the swearing for the past day. There is no smile either, so I am thinking he is somewhere in the middle of zone world, but yet he is speaking, and he is speaking to me!

This is not something Al does well, for as I have explained before, Al looks at me and treats me as if his father was standing here, instead of me. This is new to me, and I now have to try to expand my mind a little more and figure out where he is so I can stay up with him.

Hickory Dickory dock

Hickory Dickory Dock

The mouse ran up the clock

The clock struck one

The mouse ran down

Hickory Dickory dock!

This is sometimes the way I feel, never quite being able to stay one step ahead of the Parkinson’s game. Of course, if I went more with the flow of life, I would not even have to consider anything, but the moment, but I am not like that. I have always tried to be prepared for anything in my life.

We are in a new stage of Parkinson’s now, dealing with one of the side effects, but Al has taken it one step further. I used to work with the elderly and disabled for many years, and used to get so upset when I would walk into a patients rooms, only to discover they had somehow, without normally  being able to walk alone, had made their way to the restroom and were found sitting on the toilet digging.

Now I won’t go into great detail about this fine term, our society has labeled it, but I will tell you that it can be a dangerous thing, and it can also be found to be quite a mess. This all stems from the root of the weed, called obsession.

Al is obsessed with using the bathroom. He now takes a product called Miralax, which is for constipation. Before, that product we used Milk of Magnesia, but discovered that M.O.M. should not be used for long-term. It takes several hours for any of these products to work, but Al wants instant results. He goes in and sits and comes out all upset, because nothing happens, as he says.

I keep explaining over and over to him, that there are no rules that he needs to produce anything every day, but he isn’t listening to that part, so now I hear about this several times a day. Along with this stubbornness  of not listening to my voice, he has taken a total flip also in the help section.

He would rather struggle than ask for help, fall instead of hanging on to something, choke instead of letting me help, anything not to ask for help, because, in my opinion, he would have to admit to himself, that he was becoming more dependent on others, so yesterday when Al asked me to help him with something, I was shocked, but pleased.

He continued this all through the day and has clung to it also for this new day. He will come out to the kitchen, and get a glass and place ice cubes and water in it, then sit it on the table and ask me to carry it into his bedroom. He does not help any longer with getting his eating utensils on the table or his napkin. This morning he asked me to wash down his back, which I could understand. Al wakes up and within a few minutes, breaks out into heavy sweats, like he has just ran a marathon,so he does need to be washed down between showers, so I can see him asking for help with his back. He wanted me to also put his deodorant on him and help put baby powder on his chest. I see no problems in

Français : Muscle plantaire. Anatomie humaine

helping him, but knowing the way I am, I am now wondering if he truly needs help to do some of these things. Are his tremors getting worse, and I haven’t noticed it? Or, is he realizing his sister can ease his load a little.

I don’t mean to sound cruel, but I have been learning that Al has a way of using his illness to get his own way. Sort of like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but this is an adult with a child-like mind, but is much smarter than given credit for.

I want to help Al in all that I can, but the medical part in me, realizes that the more I do for him, the less he does for himself, and the faster the muscles give up and become mush, and then the walking ends. So do I continue to help with anything he requests, or do I urge him to still do for himself as much as possible. Is he getting so tired and weak from his Parkinson’s and has been forced to give up things he has been able to do before? I have to figure this out, so I don’t destroy the muscles within  his body. What do you think?

The Realization


I like big butts and I cannot lie

I like big butts and I cannot lie (Photo credit: J. Star)

I fall asleep to the TV each night, and this morning I woke early to hearing the word butt over and over. As my mind was waking up and hearing this word, I started to wonder what station I may have flipped the TV to during the night, as I Love Lucy is usually who wishes me a good morning each day. I sat up on the edge of my bed and lit my first cigarette and stared at the screen. Yup, I was right, I was hearing about the butt. I have never been a skinny girl. I weighed seven pounds even when I was born. Height was never my friend when I started reaching womanhood.My tallest I ever reached was five foot three, add this to a non skinny body, and you end up with an all trunk body and small legs. Can you picture this? People used to compliment me the most on my small legs. I was called bird legs for many years. Now I can see why. The trunk made the legs look smaller. A magical allusion to the eyes. I also was complimented on my butt. Not a big one, always hearing that I had a flat butt. I clung to these two compliments all of my life until this morning. I was never one who made exercise programs a habit of nature. I ignored those parts of the commercials on the television. Now I find out that I have three muscles in my butt. The minimum, the middle, and the maximus. I never knew this! My butt was and is flat, not as a compliment, not because I do not each much, but because I do not exercise those three muscles. I learned that I could have a high, nice rounded, butt, if I only spent the dollars out on this DVD, that taught me how to have this beautiful shaped butt that all men love to look at and all women desire. I was so disappointed that the compliment balloon had busted! Now I was down to only one compliment, the legs. My legs are thinner, because of my shape, plus the fact, I have always loved to walk. Firming them up and allowing the muscles to shape them. I quickly took an over haul in my mind of how I could  FIX this new problem. I came to the conclusion that I was going to have to accept this for what it was. I am fifty-eight years old. I do not want to lie on the floor and roll around and have to do this for sixty to ninety days. I can not get out and walk like I used to because of caring for my brother. This all made me tired and I almost crawled back underneath the covers to sleep it off. Then I decided to just forget it. God gave me what I have. If I had the beautiful butt, it may change my personality to someone else. I could even turn into a snob, walking around with my nose in the air, realizing that I had the BUTT, everyone wanted. I flipped off the TV and came out into the room. On the baby monitor, I could hear my brother dreaming. He was laughing. Was he laughing at me? Did  he pick up on that infomercial, and he also knew I had a flat butt? I laugh at myself as I think this crazy thought, and instead wish myself a happy mother’s day, and go start my coffee.