Wesley Theological Seminary and some thoughts

 I woke up Monday morning with excitement and a little stress. It was the day that I would drive myself and Dad to Wesley Theological Seminary in D.C., where he earned his Master's in Divinity (1973) and Doctoral degree in Ministry (1974). I had arranged a tour with Chip Aldridge,  Special Assistant to the President for Alumni Engagement. Chip did an excellent job! The campus was quiet because the students weren't back from winter break. We toured the administrative building, chapel, and library and saw some classrooms. They have a lovely collection of art as well!

It was nice hearing about Dad's time there. He had nothing but positive things to say about his time at the school. He shared where he had student appointments on the Eastern Shore and how the locals would go around and ask every resident for $1 to pay his salary. Chip found documents for the years my father attended and photocopied them for him to have. These documents also included their catalog for the year, which I will be mailing back. Chip knew many of my father's professors, so they had a great time talking about their experiences. We even found my father's name at the churches he was assigned to on the Eastern Shore and Cabin John. I was deeply moved by how thoughtful and generous Chip was with his time and the swag he gave my father as a gift. If I had been called to Ministry, I would have liked to attend Wesley. After the tour, we drove past the Cabin John Church and returned home for a late lunch. Below are some pictures of our time there.

I took a lot more, but they are mainly interesting to me and my Dad so that I won't bore you with all of them. Tuesday was a good day. He remembered that we had been to the Seminary and was still delighted over the swag he received. We spoke about his next important trip to the Eastern Shore to see where he used to work. I told him I would need time to plan the journey as I had never been to the Eastern Shore. Also, I don't like bridges, so I'll be stretching past my comfort zone, which is good, but that is also a lot for me to do in one day. I prefer to plan a weekend out there and an overnight stay, but when I talk to my friends about which areas we will drive to, they may have a better idea of whether it's a day trip or not. I may try to reach out to the Deacon of the churches to see if we can also get a chance to see the inside of the churches.

I spent a lot of time calling offices regarding my Dad's affairs - medical, legal, etc. I was proud I could accomplish a lot despite the constant interruptions and loss of internet. Still, I feel even better today, having had most of my calls returned and feeling that progress is being made on some things that are financially weighing on him. It's only 1 p.m., but I could call it a night! 

Caregiver Thoughts

I talked with my therapist yesterday about how we are finally getting into a routine. I don't feel especially stressed on days when the questions about the same things don't stop. He's relaxed about his finances, but we still go over them, just not every day. He is quicker to say his memory is "just not what it used to be." We are also doing better at setting some boundaries regarding his wanting to be helpful around the house. Unfortunately, if no one is around, he will forget and be helpful-not helpful, but we know his intentions are good. All we can do is laugh about it and vent to each other when it is extra work for us, but again, keep it forefront that he wants to be helpful and that it's not his fault his memory is working against him. We don't want him to feel like he can't do anything for himself, although most days you can feel the implied "make my cereal for me" or "I want to watch TV, and you know I don't understand the remote, so why are you not here right now helping me?". The instant gratification culture was not lost on his generation either. I reminded him the other day about how long it would take for a webpage to load when dial-up internet first started, and he laughed. I brought it up because he was impatient for the screen on the TV to change. I get it. We are used to things happening fast, but sometimes, patience is a virtue. Would I want to go back to when you could make a sandwich and watch some TV while you waited for your webpage to load? No. However, I do remember not feeling rushed, and that's a feeling I'm working on taking with me everywhere we go, as my Dad can come across as if things are an emergency and must happen immediately. 

I try to compartmentalize my caregiving time, but it's not feasible. In the mornings, while I get the coffee ready for us (I have no idea if Dad made himself some this morning or if it was just his old cup from yesterday because the grounds were old when I made a new pot), I have to make sure all the kids are getting up and getting ready for school. Lately, they all have been sleeping past their alarms, and getting up and ready to go has been challenging. Despite living so close to one of the schools, I have even offered to drive them there as an incentive to get up and get moving since it's so ridiculously cold outside! 

Then, after I make my rounds with the kids, I go downstairs to have my first cup of coffee. I usually make my Dad's coffee, but I try to get him to do his own so he doesn't lose skills earlier than necessary. Then I reminded Dad to eat breakfast and redirected him from the many side quests he had found on the way to get the cereal bowl and milk. After that, it's time to check on the kids. Are they up? If not, time warnings are made, reiterations of how to dress warmly are given, and I run back downstairs to ensure Dad has been eating and not side questing. Once he's eating some, I remind him to take his morning medication. That's just in time to remote start my car so it's warm enough when I take my first child to school. When I get back, I'm hopeful that there is still some coffee left for a second cup, and I will do another round of checking on the youngest two and ensuring they have everything they need for school. 

At the same time, Dad usually starts to ask me questions about our plans for the day. If there are any appointments, I let him know. If we don't have plans, I tell him what I'm working on and remind him how stupidly cold it is outside and how he may not want to go out that day. Despite the weather tomorrow, I know he must leave the house to maintain his sanity. I have no idea what we will do tomorrow, but we will likely find a reasonable solution. Yesterday, we took a very short walk back and forth to the school because I needed a break from sitting and looking at his paperwork. It's funny because while I'm working and sorting through things, the constant interruptions due to his memory loss make me feel like I'm not accomplishing much. I have been writing down everything I do in the day to clear that up for myself. For example, I finally stopped going to the bathroom, and he needed help with the TV. I put on a Star Trek movie he requests, and as I'm telling him I'm running to the bathroom, he is asking me questions about texts he is getting on his phone - all spam, by the way. After I finish, I go to him and look through the texts and then notice that his pharmacy in Florida has filled two of his prescriptions, so I need to call them now and see what can be done because I asked his PCM here in MD to fill two prescriptions which may very well be the same ones. We all know how insurance companies like to be understanding (said no one ever).

That is it for now because I need to make more calls, pick up my kid from school, and then prepare for a meeting at 3:30 p.m. to focus on some of my needs. Probably this evening, if not tomorrow, I plan to share my thoughts on how I do not believe our current government in the US and the insurance companies have any idea how people will be able to work to support themselves but also be caregivers at the same time and not be drowning in debt or using welfare resources (if this administration leaves any in place).

Until next time, meditate, be deliberately slow, and care for yourself while caring for others.