Friday, June 30, 2006
Recommended Books on Alzheimer's Disease
My wife Janet recently visited a friend in Michigan whose mother has just
been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. Janet asked me for some books on Alzheimer's that I might recommend.
Here is a list of books that might be helpful to Janet's friend or to anyone
who has a friend or relative suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. (Click on the book to link to more information):
These books are listed in no special order. They are all very
good. For a look at what it feels like to be "inside" an Alzheimer's brain, try Tom
DeBaggio's excellent:
Thursday, June 29, 2006
No Mom ... No Dad ...
In three days I'll be in Pennsylvania.
In the meantime, I call home every morning to talk with my Mom, but I never reach her or my Dad. I always leave messages
for them to call me.
They never call back.
I'm assuming that both of my parents are happy and well since I don't hear a word from my sister Lisa, my brother Tim,
or my brother Owsley.
I'm trying not obsess over why my parents are never home, and why they never call me back.
I can't wait to go home and see for myself. Just seeing them, hugging them, and kissing them will make me feel so much
better.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Sorry ...
Sorry, blog readers. I haven't been doing my blog daily for awhile. I am eager to go home this coming Saturday to see
my family and my parents. I feel a little bit like I'm in suspended animation until I get to see my parents for myself. While
I'm home I plan to sign onto the blog and give you daily reports on what I see and hear.
Keep the faith. Thank you for loyally reading this blog.
-- Fred
Thursday, June 22, 2006
I'm coming home, Mom.
I'm coming home, Mom.
I'm coming home, Mom.
I'm coming home, Mom.
"I'm coming home." This is the first thing I say after "Hello" every day when I call Mom and Dad in Pennsylvania. My
mom seems to remember I'm coming (next Saturday, July 1st). But a good friend says that might just be Mom pretending that
she remembers. It is hard to tell the difference.
And so I call home each day. And I tell Mom and Dad I'm coming.
And do you know what? It will still be a surprise--both to Mom and Dad. They will act like I just dropped in on them.
Last time I called Mom as I was driving from the Philadelphia Airport to the seashore in New Jersey. Mom knew I was coming.
Yet when I leaped out of my car and gave her a big hug, right there on the sidewalk, she broke into tears and said, "Freddie,
what a surprise! I'm so good to see you!"
This sort of thing can give you a real sense of disorientation and ambivalence. "Home" has always been where Mom and
Dad are. They are the twin stars and I am the wayward comet busy burning its way through the outer reaches of the galaxy--always
wandering, yet always returning home to my mom and dad.
Mom and Dad's knowledge of my path, their care for me, their strong magnetic pull of love and affection always brought
me back home. It tugged and pulled and brought me back to earth.
But now Mom and Dad seem distracted, old, and only vaguely aware that I'm out here, floating around all by myself. Without
them tugging and pulling me home, just exactly what is "home" anyway?
It's a bit sad.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Everyone Is Here But Mom and Dad?
(Sorry for the missed blog yesterday -- Monday 6/19. I was whooping it up until after midnight for the Carolina Hurricanes
who won the Stanley Cup in Game 7 at Raleigh's RBC Center. I'm still in shock this morning. But it's true. It's true. It's
true. Go, Canes!)
Ok. I have to get back to the real world. Be serious. Be sober.
Ok.
I called my whole family yesterday to tell them that Catie, Dave, Janet and I were driving to my parents' home in Avalon,
New Jersey, next Saturday, July 1st. Everyone was eager, welcoming, and happy to see us.
Everyone but Mom and Dad.
When I told Dad he seemed puzzled. "And why are you coming home?" he asked.
"It's all because of Eric," I said. "He's flying in from Japan. We're all driving up to the seashore on Saturday. And
then Sunday we're driving to Philadelphia to meet Eric's plane. He's flying in to visit with you, Mom, and with his other
grandmother Doris Letts."
"Where do you expect to stay?" asked Dad.
"Oh, around," I said. "I'll hopefully stay with you. Everyone else can bring air mattresses and maybe bunk up with Martie
and Rick and the kids in West Chester."
Then Dad released his bombshell:
"We may not be here," he said.
At first I took this way too seriously. "Really not be here at all?" I asked.
"We may not be at the shore," said Dad. "Or we may not be in Media. We may not be here."
"Oh," I said, trying to hide my relief. "Oh, that's all right. Eric is flying seven thousand miles to visit his grandparents.
What's a few more miles once he gets here? He'll find you. Eric is very persistent, and he really wants to visit with you
and Mom -- wherever you are."
"We'll see," said Dad. "We'll see."
Friday, June 16, 2006
Leave Me Alone
No news today from home. However, I did get a letter from Dad. He mailed a copy of a letter he had sent all his children
four years ago (in 2002). In the letter he tells us kids to leave him alone. He says we are to work our problems
out with each other, but to leave him out of it.
At the bottom of his letter he writes, "This still applies -- June 16, 2006."
I interpret this letter to mean that Dad has his hands full taking care of Mom. He needs help from us kids and doesn't
want us bickering among ourselves. If we have problems we need to deal with them ourselves and not suck him into them.
At 88 years old, he has all he can handle, with Mom's Alzheimer's and his own very serious medical problems.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Denial of Alzheimer's Disease
People see each other in such subjective ways. But as one of my dear friends says, "Perception is reality."
Mom's friends Doris Letts and Gloria Armitage see Mom infrequently. Last week they played bridge with Mom and reported
that Mom seems fine. When they got together at Gloria's house Mom came in second! She participated in the conversation.
Gloria and Doris saw nothing out of the ordinary.
A day or so later, Tim told me a different story. He took Mom on a walk on the sidewalks of her hometown, Media. Mom
suddenly grew anxious and wanted to go home. She seemed nervous, worried. She appeared dazed and wobbly. Tim took Mom home
and told Dad about her symptoms. Dad had Lisa take Mom to see her doctor.
All this happened just last week.
Mom is still in an early phase of Alzheimer's Disease. Hopefully, with medication and care Mom can remain in this phase
for a long time to come. While a person is in this phase they can appear to be normal to people they see infrequently or for
short periods of time. In a later phase, there is no denying it. Alzheimer's cripples the brain and then the body. The
effects of Alzheimer's become visible to even the most casual observer.
EARLY DIAGNOSIS OR EARLY DENIAL?
In the study I wrote about in yesterday's blog, it is clear that catching Alzheimer's in its early stages is a tricky
business. Depending on how close you are to a person, you see different things. If you are close to a person, you may notice
some worrisome things (perhaps they are forgetting things frequently), but you block these things out because they are difficult
for you to face. And you rationalize: "She's getting older. Of course she doesn't remember as well."
So you put off getting a person tested. You put off getting an early diagnosis.
Meanwhile, if your spouse, your mother, your friend has Alzheimer's, they get worse while you sit on the fence and fret
and wonder.
According to the
survey, people delay getting their loved one checked for Alzheimer's an average of more than
two years after they first
observe Alzheimer's symptoms (including forgetfulness, confusion, personality changes, etc.). People who said they were worried
about the stigma of Alzheimer's typically delayed diagnosis for their loved one for
almost six years.
This delay in diagnosis can cause serious setbacks both for the Alzheimer's patient and for their caregivers:
The delay in diagnosing Alzheimer's disease is potentially serious. "Any delay in diagnosis is a
setback for people with Alzheimer's disease and their caregivers, and a delay of two years or more is a serious and unnecessary
setback," said Eric J. Hall, Chief Executive Officer of the Alzheimer's Foundation of America. "While facing Alzheimer's disease
is never easy, getting a diagnosis is an essential step to managing and treating the disease. Living with this in silence
can isolate people with Alzheimer's disease and their caregivers, leaving them without critical support, resources, and proper
treatment."
I know that in the case of my own mother, it is hard to accept that a person you love may have a life-crippling
and ultimately fatal disease. That's why I give my father such credit for picking Mom up and taking her off to the Mayo Clinic
last year so she could get a definite diagnosis.
Dad could have sat around rationalizing and procrastinating as Mom got worse.
But he didn't. He got the diagnosis. He got Mom the medicine that she now takes every day
of her life. And he mobilized his family and friends to begin caring for Mom.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Caregivers: Dad and All the Rest of Us
My mother Libby D'Ignazio has Alzheimer's Disease. Her primary caregivers are my father and my brother Owsley. Backing
them up are my sister Lisa and my brother Tim. I live in North Carolina, so that makes me a distant back-up caregvier.
I watch my Dad and my brother Owsley deal with my mother. Recently I have noticed that caring for mom tires them and
puts them on edge. I wondered how their experience compares with experiences of other caregivers.
With the help of my sister-in-law Teri I found an
article on the web entitled "The Experiences of Alzheimer's Caregivers." The article is based on a national survey of 539 U.S. adults
(ages 18 and over) who care for persons with Alzheimer's Disease. The survey does not cover professional caregivers. It covers
family members and friends who voluntarily are caring for someone they love.
Here are some interesting facts I gleaned from the survey:
- Almost half of the caregivers (47%) care for their parents; almost one third (31%) care for their spouses.
- The average age of a caregiver is 56. (Owsley is 51; Dad is 88.)
- Two thirds of the caregivers are women; one third men.
- Chief ways that caregivers help their loved ones:
- Make and attend doctors appointments (Dad, Owsley and Lisa do this)
- Assist in planning and organizing their lives (Dad, Owsley)
- Help them pay bills (Dad's secretary Barbara)
- Help them with day-to-day activities such as preparing meals, managing their wardrobe, going to the hairdresser's,
hygiene and appearance (Dad, Lisa, Owsley, Tim)
- Make long-term decisions (Dad)
- Do quality-of-life appointments such as social occasions with other couples and friends (Dad, Lisa, Owsley, Tim)
The survey makes it clear that caring for a person with Alzheimer's Disease has a huge impact on the life of the
caregiver:
Virtually all caregivers report that Alzheimer's disease is a life-changing event for the family
of the patient (97%) and wish there were more available treatment options (94%). Very large majorities also worry about how
the disease will progress (86%) and their ability to continue to provide care as the disease progresses (83%). Three-quarters
of caregivers feel overwhelmed when caring for patients with Alzheimer's disease (77%).
Most caregivers wish that family and friends were more supportive of their efforts toward their loved one. On the
positive side, they feel that caring for the Alzheimer's sufferer has made them stronger and more compassionate as human beings.
I have witnessed this effect with my whole family: my dad, my sister Lisa, my brother Owsley, and my brother Tim.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Mom's "Spell" -- The Word from Tim
I called Mom yesterday morning and caught her just as she was about to go on her daily walk with Tim. She was in a hurry
to get off the phone and out the door.
I asked to speak with Tim for a second.
Tim got on the phone. "Hi, Fred," he said.
"So what's the story with Mom?" I asked. "Did she really have a spell when she went walking with you on Friday?"
"I wouldn't really call it a spell," Tim said. "It was more like she got anxious all of a sudden during the walk and
wanted to go home."
"Is that all?"
"Well," said Tim, "during the walk she had almost no energy, and when I looked at her she just stared back at me
like I wasn't there. She didn't give me the look."
"What look?" I asked.
Tim started laughing. "The look she is giving me right now. Like she wants me to get off the phone and go walking with
her. You know: the 'don't mess with me' look."
"Anything else?" I asked.
"She was also kind of wobbly," Tim said.
"So you took her to the doctor?"
"That was Pop's idea," said Tim. "You know how he is: 'better get her checked out, just in case.'"
"How is she doing now?" I asked.
"She's fine now. Hey, sorry but I got to get off the phone. She's headed out the door without me. Bye!"
Monday, June 12, 2006
Mom Had a Spell?
My sister Lisa called me yesterday on the telephone.
"Mom had a spell," she said.
I was shocked. "How?" I asked. "When?"
"On Friday. She was out doing her daily walk with Tim."
"What happened?" I asked.
"I still don't know," Lisa said. "Mom doesn't remember anything. I got a call from Dad shortly after they got back from
the walk. He said he wanted Mom to see her doctor, Dr. Much. I drove in from home. I picked up Mom and drove her back to Unionville
to see Dr. Much."
"What did Dr. Much say?" I asked.
"He said she was okay. He didn't see anything wrong with her."
"Now what?" I asked.
"I don't know."
Friday, June 9, 2006
The Eye of the Beholder
How we comprehend the devastation that is Alzheimer's can depend entirely on the amount of time we spend with the person
who suffers from the disease. If we are a caregiver and we spend twenty-four hours a day with the person we are likely to
have a radically different perspective from a friend who bumps into the Alzheimer's person on the street.
I've spent my recent blogs describing how my mom's two chief caregivers -- my dad Babe and my brother Owsley -- are running
out of steam. Owsley is enormously frustrated; and so is Dad. Both think Mom is slipping. They are very worried about Mom.
This is a huge contrast to the assessment of Mom that I just heard from my mother-in-law, Doris Letts. Two days ago,
Doris and Mom went to a mutual friend's house to play bridge together. Here is a transcript of Doris' observations while she
was with Mom:
I met Libby [Mom] at Gloria's house, and we had a couple of drinks and played bridge together.
Libby remained calm during the game. She interacted in the conversation with all of us. And she came in second. She played
fine. If I didn't know she had Alzheimer's I wouldn't have known anything.
After the game I offered to take her home. We got into my car. As a kind of a test, I asked her if
she knew the way. Very confidently she said, "I'll direct you from here."
She directed me, and we talked all the way to her apartment.
When we got to Media she directed me around the downtown streets to the best approach to her home.
She took me up a one-way street then said, "Turn left." And, "Turn left, again." She brought me up a street so we could park
directly in front of her apartment.
She said: "There it is." She thanked me, got out of the car, waved good-bye and went into her house.
She was charming, outgoing and confident.
What can you say?
Indeed, what can you say?
Thursday, June 8, 2006
Stresses on Alzheimer's Caregivers
I spoke with my brother Owsley yesterday and with my Dad on Tuesday. Both of them seem to be on the same page: They are
tired, edgy, and frustrated as caregivers for Mom.
Mom has Alzheimer's. Caring for a person with Alzheimer's is no easy task, especially for people who are around the person
all the time.
Owsley spent three months living with my parents in Ocean Reef, Florida. Sure there are perks from living at a lovely
location like Ocean Reef. But Owsley showed the commitment and loyalty to my parents to stick with them, in residence, for
such a long time.
Dad lives with Mom all day and all night. He has to answer to her needs and anticipate her needs nonstop around the clock.
This situation is quickly wearing my dad down. When I spoke to him on Tuesday he sounded tired, feeble, and even older
than his 88 chronological years. He has always been such a vital, feisty character. He has always been larger than life.
Not so on Tuesday.
Owsley, too, is worn down. He is facing spending the summer with my parents in Avalon, New Jersey. He told me yesterday,
"I'm on the edge with Mom. She's close to putting me over the edge."
Dad refuses to give Owsley any schedule for this summer. He refuses to tell my sister Lisa to begin scouting out a live-in
caregiver who could provide relief for him and for Owsley. He wants to remain in control.
This situation seems fragile to me. How long can Dad and Owsley last before they crack?
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
Turning the Tables: Reversing the Roles of Caregiver and Patient
I talked with my dad yesterday. He was at his office in Media, Pennsylvania. Usually when Dad is at his office he talks
crisply, quickly and decisively. This was not the case yesterday. Yesterday my dad spoke slowly. His voice trailed off toward
the end of each of his sentences. He spoke haltingly. He paused a lot between sentences. He was not decisive about anything.
He seemed disoriented.
I told Dad my son Eric was coming home to Pennsylvania from Japan at the beginning of July. Dad kept asking why Eric
was coming to Pennsylvania. I told him that Janet and I were going to drive north from North Carolina, and that Catie and
her boyfriend Dave were driving south from Boston. We all plan to meet Eric at the Philadelphia Airport when he arrives. Then
we plan to spend time with Eric in the Philadelphia area while he sees his grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins.
Dad kept asking me to repeat this to him. He said that he and Mom might not be around when Eric came.
I told Dad that it was all right if they weren't in Media. We could drive Eric to see them wherever they were -- Media,
the seashore, or Mom and Dad's farm in Oxford, PA. The longest drive from Media is about two hours. Nothing is too far away,
considering that Eric is coming all the way from Japan to see them.
Dad reminded me again that he might not be there.
At this point he was making me a little worried.
KEEP HER STIRRED UP
To change the subject I asked about Mom. At first Dad said she was doing only "fair." But after I asked for details he
revised that and said she was doing "pretty good." He bragged that she was off playing bridge with her friends. And he said
she had run into someone at the Towne House who she hadn't seen in a long time, and she immediately recalled their name. "This
really impressed me," Dad said.
Dad said his main occupation in life is keeping Mom stirred up. He felt that this kept Mom "with us a little longer."
His other tactic with Mom is to have her be a caregiver to him. He can barely move because of his water retention problems
in his legs, his arthritis, and the fatigue and lethargy caused by all the heart and blood medicines he is taking.
Mom has to fill in.
Mom is Dad's "gopher." She can still move pretty well, and he sends her on errands around the house to fetch things for
him. Also, Mom helps Dad get dressed and she helps him wash his body during his shower.
"I let her look after me," Dad confided. "She fusses and she fumes, but it gives her a purpose in life."
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
Sea Squirt Offers Hope to Alzheimer's Victims
I was up this morning at 5 AM scanning all the new alerts Google sent to my inbox on Alzheimer's Disease. Each day I
get a dozen new articles to scan from around the world, from new research at Duke University to online articles issued by
the China News Agency in Beijing.
Today I came across a great article ... on Sea Squirts.
What is a sea squirt?
At 5:30 AM I went on an Internet expedition to research sea squirts.
It turns out that they are animals with a primitive "backbone" which puts them into the phylum chordata, the
same phylum as birds, fish, and mammals. We are mammals, of course, so that makes us loosely related to sea squirts.
The name "sea squirt" is a good clue to the nature of this little creature. They start life as larvae that resemble tadpoles,
but as they mature they become barrel-shaped. They are filter feeders and siphon water in through their tubular bodies, extract
their food, then pump the "waste" water back out the other side. This is a very simple digestive system, but it works for
sea squirts.
COW BRAINS OR SEA SQUIRTS?
Japanese researchers stumbled upon sea squirts as a cure for Alzheimer's Disease because they were tracking down a substance
called
plasmalogen. Plasmalogen is a lipid. What is a lipid? According to
Answers.com a lipid is:
Any of a group of organic compounds, including the fats, oils, waxes, sterols, and triglycerides,
that are insoluble in water but soluble in nonpolar organic solvents, are oily to the touch, and together with carbohydrates
and proteins constitute the principal structural material of living cells.
Lipids are on everyone's lips as the acronyms "HDL" and "LDL." HDLs (High-Density Lipids) are the good-guy
fats in our blood streams that help lower our cholesterol. LDLs (Low-Density Lipids) are the bad-guy fats that attach to our
blood vessels' walls, gunk them up, and cause high blood pressure, strokes and heart disease.
Plasmalogen lipids are good lipids. They can be found in humans in our brains, our spinal chord, and
our hearts. They protect cells against the damaging effects of oxidation. Oxidation occurs when healthy cells are damaged
by other cells with free (extra) electrons. Oxidation is suspected as a major cause of Alzheimer's Disease.
Autopsies have revealed that the plasmalogen level of persons who died from Alzheimer's Disease is 30 percent
below normal.
When Japanese scientists injected laboratory mice with plasmalogen, the mice did better on memory tests.
At first the scientists used cow brains as a source for plasmalogen. However, due to their fear of infecting human patients
with mad cow disease, they began searching for another plasmalogen source.
That's when they stumbled upon the lowly sea squirt.
Sea squirts have an unusually high amount of plasmalogen in their internal organs. Sea-squirt fishing is a major
industry in the Tohoku region of Japan where the Japanese researchers are located. The scientists speculate that if they can
commercially extract plasmalogen from sea squirts they might be able to turn it into a medicine to treat Alzheimer's patients.
Tests on human beings suffering from Alzheimer's have already begun.
IT'S A NO-BRAINER
When sea squirts mature, they attach themselves to a rocky undersea surface and begin the sucking and squirting
that occupies the rest of their brief lives. Since their lives are simplified, they no longer need their spinal chord and brain,
so they absorb them into their bodies. They retain a residual set of nerves (ganglia) that control their pumping activities.
The sea squirt spends the rest of its days sucking and squirting, sucking and squirting. It's a no-brainer.
Wouldn't be ironic if a creature that digests its own brain was the key to saving human brains?
Monday, June 5, 2006
Memory Tests for Mom
I spoke with Mom on the phone today and deliberately tried to test her memory by asking her questions about what she
is up to. Here is a transcript of our conversation:
FRED: Hi, Mom!
LIBBY: Hi, Fred!
FRED: Are you up?
LIBBY: Sure I'm up. It's 10 o'clock. I'm making your dad's breakfast.
FRED: What did you do this weekend?
LIBBY: Yesterday we had dinner with Owsley.
FRED: At the Towne House?
LIBBY: Yes, of course. I don't like to cook any more. And your dad and I like the food there.
FRED: Makes sense to me. What else are you up to?
LIBBY: This morning I went for a walk with Tim.
FRED: Great. What are your plans for today?
LIBBY: Nothing for today. We'll just watch some TV.
FRED: How about tomorrow?
LIBBY: Tomorrow is busy. First I'm going to Gloria Armitage's to play bridge with her group.
FRED: And later?
LIBBY: Later your father and I have been invited out to Lisa and John's for dinner.
FRED: That's nice. You sound like you have a full schedule. Anything else?
LIBBY: I almost forgot. I went to church
yesterday at my little church. You know it's just around the corner from our house. The service was an hour and a half long.
FRED: Did you have a high mass?
LIBBY: Yes.
FRED: Did you have communion?
LIBBY: Yes.
FRED: Did you have to go to confession in order to go to communion -- just like the Roman Catholics? [Mom is an Anglican
Catholic!]
LIBBY: Of course not! Anything I confess is between me and God.
FRED: Did Dad go? I'll bet he had a lot to confess before he took communion.
LIBBY: Your Dad didn't go. But if he had he would have had lots to confess. He's been pretty frisky lately.
After Mom and I hung up I got a call from Dot D'Ignazio, my cousin. She was walking her grandson Colin in the baby stroller
and ran into Lisa and Mom leaving the Towne House Restaurant. Lisa comes in twice a week and takes Mom out for meals and on
errands and appointments. I'll have to check with Lisa to see if Mom knew that Lisa was coming in today. Otherwise, I was
very impressed with Mom's memory.
Friday, June 2, 2006
They're Back in Media
Just a tiny blog this morning. I have to be at Apex High School in 20 minutes to make a video presentation to the senior
class.
The big news: Mom and Dad are back in Media.
From what I hear, they will be returning to the seashore (Avalon) next week. But, for the moment, they are in residence
in their little apartment on South Avenue.
I called Mom yesterday morning while they were still in Avalon and said: "What are you still doing at the shore?"
She said, "What do you mean?"
I said, "Well, I've left. Curry has left. Timmy has left. Owsley has left. Even Andy the Dog has left. You and Dad are
the only ones at the shore. Why are you down there on your own?"
When I finished asking this question I did a silent doubletake at my end of the phone. I realized what it sounded like.
I was worried because my parents didn't have any chaperones or caregivers hovering around them. They were on their own --
as they had been for over fifty years -- but suddenly the word "alone" took on a new, anxious meaning.
It also made me realize how good Owsley and Lisa and Tim and their families and spouses have been recently "swarming"
and "hovering" around Mom and Dad, to make sure they are okay.
Alone. Can we ever really let my parents be alone again?
Thursday, June 1, 2006
Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain ...
This is a memorable quote from the 1939 film classic "The Wizard of Oz."
It also applies to my father, Babe D'Ignazio.
Dad spends all his significant charm and persuasive powers convincing us that Mom is the person to watch. When we begin
a conversation with Dad, he stops us, mid-sentence, and points to Mom. He wants Mom to be the center of attention, not him.
Despite his efforts to shift from the spotlight to the shadows, Dad is still at center stage. Mom revolves around him
like a hungry moth, always ready to drink in more light, more of his incandescent brain power.
The man still shines.
Dad has always been a generous man. Now he focuses his generous spirit on Mom. Fortunately he has lots of spirit to share,
because these days Mom can use all the help she can get.
He has to be tough, too. Or Mom would whittle him away, splinter by splinter, shard by shard.
Mom follows Dad around the house. She blames him for everything that goes wrong. She follows him up the steps and shouts
up at him from the bottom of the steps. She takes out on Dad all the thousands of little frustrations she feels, moment by
moment, as her memory slips like tiny diamonds through her fingers.
Dad is Mom's whipping boy. And her salvation.
Bravo, Dad. I got a chance to watch you in action this past weekend. Being a caregiver to your beloved as she slowly
dies before your eyes is a curse. But you turn it into a blessing.
I love you.
