Filed under: Alzheimer's, Apollo program, Burt Rutan, General Musings, Heinlein Centennial, NASA, Predictions, Society, Space
This morning, when I went to check on her after hearing some stirring, my mother-in-law looked at me and asked if I knew where her toothbrush was.
“Yes. I know where it is. When you get up, we’ll be sure to use it.”
This simple reassurance allowed her to get back to sleep, and when we got her up at her usual time about 45 minutes later, she had completely forgotten the whole thing. See, she is well into the arc of Alzheimer’s, and has slipped to the point where she doesn’t really know where she is or who is around her most of the time. But little things like knowing that she has her own toothbrush, and she can use it, seem to make her happy, give her a measure of security. I don’t try to understand it. I am too exhausted for that. I just try to roll with it.
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Last night a friend sent me the first news reports of the explosion at Scaled Composites, indicating that two people had died and others were injured, evidently during a test of one of their rocket engines. After reading the brief news item, I replied:
Well, shit.
But as everyone involved said during the Centennial – this is going to happen. And while we have to work to take precautions, we can’t allow it to stop the future.
My friend responded to this with:
Yes. If people say we should stop, I have just two words for them:
Apollo One.
My parents knew the astronauts. And if we’d let that fire stop the space program, well……..
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I met Brian Binnie at the Heinlein Centennial. If you don’t recognize the name, that’s OK. Brian was the pilot of SpaceShipOne for the two flights which won the Ansari X Prize. He works for Burt Rutan of Scaled Composites. During his inspiring presentations and discussions at the Centennial, he conveyed a simple, honest love for what he did. He made no pretense that he was a brilliant engineer or scientist (though he holds a couple of advanced degrees), and poked fun at his own public speaking skills. He came across as a regular guy, highly skilled in flying test vehicles, and more than a little amazed to have been involved in making history. I like regular guys, people who are smart and extraordinary but don’t take that too seriously.
I hope Brian wasn’t one of the people hurt in the explosion. But even if he was, I bet that his attitude won’t change, and he’ll still be convinced that private spaceflight is worth the risk. On one of his test flights ofSpaceShipOne , the ship was badly damaged and he could have easily been killed. Obviously, that didn’t stop him then. I’m sure Brian, and all the others at Scaled Composites, will be going over the data from the test to see what happened, and how to avoid it in the future.
7/28/07 Update: Scaled Composites named those killed in the blast: Eric Dean Blackwell, 38, of Randsburg; Charles Glenn May, 45, of Mojave; and Todd Ivens, 33, of Tehachapi. No word on the injured.
***********************
Panel Finds Astronauts Flew While Intoxicated
Jul 26, 2007
By Frank Morring, Jr./Aviation Week & Space Technology A panel reviewing astronaut health issues in the wake of the Lisa Nowak arrest has found that on at least two occasions astronauts were allowed to fly after flight surgeons and other astronauts warned they were so intoxicated that they posed a flight-safety risk.The panel, also reported “heavy use of alcohol” by astronauts before launch, within the standard 12-hour “bottle to throttle” rule applied to NASA flight crew members.
You know, if you were going to strap me as cargo to the top of a chemical rocket with a 1-in-50 chance of catastrophic failure, I might well be still a little drunk, too. Oh, not if I was going to be responsible for flying the damned thing. But if I was just along for the ride? Yeah, I can see getting drunk before hand.
But that’s no way to run a space program.
***********************
One day last week a steam pipe ruptured in New York City, killing one person and injuring many others. Each day in the US over 100 people are killed in vehicle accidents, and about half that number are murdered.
I was orphaned in early adolescence, one parent murdered and then the other dieing about 18 months later in a car accident. I came to understand death much earlier than most people in our country do. I’ve had a few close calls myself, all of them stupid and unexpected things that had my luck gone just a little differently, I would have died. Now, at middle age, I’ve got the typical health risks for a man which could mean an early and unexpected death.
But I don’t worry about that. Death wins. Every time. None of us gets out of here alive. We are all going to die, sooner or later. The only real thing that matters is that we live life as completely as possible, loving, creating, building the future. Brian Binnie understands that, and I’d bet that the others at Scaled Composites do too. I like to think that my parents understood that. My mother-in-law, who may not understand this on an intellectual level, still experiences life, still worries about her place in the world, still wants to make sure that she can brush her teeth.
Jim Downey
(Cross posted to UTI.)
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Feedback, Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling, Promotion, Publishing, Science Fiction, Writing stuff
I’m deep into Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, so may not have much in the way of substantive posts over the next couple of days. Combining that with my care-giving responsibilities increasing over the last week due to something of a decline in my charge’s health, and I don’t have much extra energy or attention span.
But I wanted to note that we passed 3800 downloads of the novel yesterday, and I have been getting a bit more feedback here on the site to it. These are certainly good things, and I would like to thank one and all who have helped promote the book by telling their friends or posting comments about it elsewhere. Certainly, nothing that I have done has reached so many people.
Thank you!
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Ben Bova, Frederik Pohl, General Musings, Heinlein Centennial, J. Michael Straczynski, JMS, Publishing, Science Fiction, Society, Writing stuff
If I published 4 books a year, for the next 25 years, I’d have accomplished in my 74 years what Ben Bova has accomplished in his life so far.
Yeah, it reminds me of that line from the short-lived series Crusade: “Whenever I get to feeling too proud of my accomplishments, I remind myself that when Mozart was my age, he’d been dead for six years.”
Bova is a legend in Science Fiction. Justifiably so. But he’s more than that. He’s a decent human being.
I say that for two reasons, both observed up close at the Heinlein Centennial. The first is summed up nicely by the James D. Miles quote which I have long appreciated:
“You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him.”
During the Centennial, I was waiting for a friend at a rendezvous point before going off for some lunch. The session I had attended had wrapped up early, so I was just standing there in an entrance hall, minding my own business. From one of the adjacent corridors came a distinguished gent, walking towards me. As he got closer, I recognized him. It was Ben Bova.
He came up to me, peered down at my Centennial badge, and quietly introduced himself. There was no implication that I should be impressed or honored – he was just one guy introducing himself to another stranger who happened to be in the same place at the same time. A part of me, experienced with countless hours of public relations, took note and admired how smoothly and genuinely he did this. The other part of me tried not to stammer too much in response to his queries and comments. We chatted for a few minutes, him telling me that his flight up from Florida had been delayed, asking me why I was attending, et cetera, and then the person he had been waiting for came up (I’m embarrassed to say that I cannot recall his name . . . he was another ‘V.I.P.’ who knew Bova evidently as an old friend). Bova introduced us like I had been his old army buddy. We all chatted for a minute or two. My friend ML came up. Bova took the initiative of introducing himself and his friend to her. Then he glanced at his watch, and said to his friend, “Well, I suppose it’s time I should get in there.” With a smile to us, he asked, “Will you be joining us?”
My friend glanced at me as he turned to go. I nodded, said quietly, “Um, let’s roll with this.”
We followed a few paces to one of the empty meeting rooms. Just inside the door Bova and his friend stopped, Ben looking around somewhat confused.
“Um, perhaps you’re still on Eastern Time? There isn’t anything scheduled during the lunch break . . .” I volunteered.
“Ah, right you are,” he said, somewhat chagrined.
“You’re welcome to join us, we were just about to go get some lunch.” (Hey, lunch with Ben Bova? How cool would that be?)
“Oh, thanks, I really should go get checked in. I just got off the shuttle, and thought I was going to be late getting to this session.”
We (ML and I) slipped out, Bova said goodbye to his friend, and the three of us went one direction, Bova off towards the reception area for the hotel in the other.
Now, that was the first insight. And I concede that it could well have all been just a highly-polished act by an author long experienced with dealing with fans at Cons and whatnot. But the next bit provided the other reason for my assessment.
ML and I had our lunch, and I returned to the room where Ben Bova had thought that he was to be participating. I had planned on going to that session anyway, since the other speaker was Frederik Pohl, and the topic was “Editors in Transition,” about the early days of SF publishing.
And here’s the second thing. I haven’t a nice little quote at hand, but I can assure you that it is true: you can also tell a great deal about someone by how they treat the elderly, particularly if that elderly person is suffering some form of diminished capacity.
Frederik Pohl, to my eye, is still as sharp as a tack. But he’s pushing 90, has had some health issues, and is getting a little forgetful . . . nothing that should come as any kind of a surprise in someone that age. As the full-time care-giver of someone who has Alzheimer’s at 90, I can honestly say that there is no reason to think that he suffers from any kind of dementia or mental deterioration. He’s just evidencing the normal traits of age, and even that very mildly indeed.
The thing is, watching Ben Bova interact with Fred Pohl during the hour long free-wheeling discussion of ‘the good old days,’ I saw another side of Ben Bova that most people probably don’t. There was the usual deference and respect, but there was also a genuine warmth, what I would characterize as perhaps even a kind of love. It’s the sort of thing that allows a person to smile quietly and let slide an error or mistaken memory without the need to correct it or even bring it to the attention of the older person. It is, in my experience, a deep reverence borne of long understanding of another, and reflects that person’s own self-confidence and self-understanding. I didn’t know it until I started to do the background research for this post, but Ben Bova has long experience with the martial arts, and that was the quietude I recognized in him.
I did see more of Ben Bova in the course of the weekend – his giving autographs, accepting awards, making little presentations, interacting with friends and fans. I didn’t attempt to claim any more of his time or attention – no reason to be a nuisance. He had been very generous with me already in that regard. And besides, I’d seen enough to understand some things about him which I deeply respect.
Jim Downey
(Cross posted to UTI.)
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Babylon 5, Burt Rutan, Charlie Stross, General Musings, Global Warming, Heinlein, Heinlein Centennial, J. Michael Straczynski, Jeff Greason, JMS, Peter Diamandis, Predictions, Robert A. Heinlein, Science, Science Fiction, Singularity, Society, Space, tech, XCOR
Standing there, looking out the window to the driveway just below, I saw the fox take the unwitting squirrel. One quick, quiet leap from behind a tree, a snap, pause to snap again at the struggling grey mass, and it had breakfast. A pretty, lethal thing, yellow-red short fur, characteristic long legs and bushy tail, eyes sharp as it looked around. Probably weighed twelve to fifteen pounds, lean and long. Made me consider keeping the cats inside.
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Peter Diamandis received a standing ovation for his presentation on the absolute need to go into space. It wasn’t just that the attendees at the Heinlein Centennial Gala were predisposed to his message – it was because his energy and enthusiasm swept away all doubts that this was *going* to happen, that it was economically inevitable, once we realized that it was actually possible. What’s that? Charlie Stross and others have said that while something like asteroid mining might be possible, it won’t lead to colonization? Yeah, that’s the argument. But Diamandis calculates that one 0.5 kilometer metallic asteroid will contain a *lot* of valuable metal…to the tune of 20 Trillion dollars worth. Sure, such asteroids only comprise about 8% of the known bodies anywhere near our space…but still, you’re talking tens of thousands of such asteroids of varying size. That’s a damned big incentive to build infrastructure, and once the infrastructure is in place, once the basic research has been done and there are multiple private corporations, countries, and even private citizens exploiting this resource, there are going to be some who find it advantageous to actually locate in space (semi-)permanently.
Diamandis joked that his strategy is going to be to issue a lot of ‘put options’ for the precious metals, then announce that he is going to go grab one of these asteroids and use the procedes to finance the expedition. Hey, when a man worth that kind of money makes such a joke, people should take it seriously.
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I watched, one afternoon last week, while my mother-in-law suffered a slight TIA. She was sitting in her wheelchair, having just gotten up from her afternoon nap, and was finishing some yogurt. I was sitting and talking with her, when she just slowly sort of folded in on herself. While she is 90 and suffers from Alzhemer’s, she is usually capable of responding to direct questions about immediate events (how she feels, if she likes her yogurt, et cetera), but she suddenly went quiet, almost insensate. I checked to see whether something like a heart attack was in process, and asked if she was hurting or if there was some other indicator of a serious emergency. Eventually I got enough information to conclude it was likely ‘just’ a TIA or some similar event, and got her back in bed. I monitored her, and all seemed to be well. She woke two hours later, with no evidence of damage. But it was an indication of her condition, and likely a hint at things to come.
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I want to have Jeff Greason’s baby.
Greason (pronounced ‘Grey-son’) is the head of XCOR Aerospace, and is one of the many companies trying to build the infrastructure of private commercial spaceflight. He and his company have accomplished a lot in the development of dependable, reusuable, and powerful rocket engines…engines sufficiently well engineered that they show no indication of wearing out after even thousands of operating cycles (being turned on and off). As he explains, the two biggest problems previously with rocket engine design was that there was wear leading to failure on both the throat of the engine (where the burning fuel exhausts) and on the nozzle (which creates the high thrust needed). The XCOR designs have engineered these problems out, and they’re still waiting to find out what other life-span problems the engine might have. And once you have dependable rocket engines, you can build a reusable and dependable vehicle around them.
But that’s not why I want to have his baby. Yes, dependable reusable rockets is a critical first-step technology for getting into space. But as Greason says, he didn’t get interested in space because of chemical rockets – he got interested in chemical rockets because they could get him into space. For him, that has always been the goal, from the first time he read Rocket Ship Galileo by Robert Heinlein when he was about 10. It is somewhat interesting to note that similar to the setting and plot of the book, XCOR Aerospace is based on the edge of a military test range, using leased government buildings…
Anyway. Greason looked at the different possible technologies which might hold promise for getting us off this rock, and held a fascinating session at the Centennial discussing those exotic technologies. Simply, he came to the same conclusion many other very intelligent people have come to: that conventional chemical rockets are the best first stage tech. Sure, many other possible options are there, once the demand is in place to make it financially viable to exploit space on a large enough scale. But before you build an ‘interstate highway’, you need to have enough traffic to warrant it. As he said several times in the course of the weekend, “you don’t build a bridge to only meet the needs of those who are swimming the river…but you don’t build a bridge where no one is swimming the river, either.”
******************************
In one of the sessions, people got to talking about what drives technological development, and one of the big things that people focused on was war. This has been a common theme in a lot of SF, including my favorite series Babylon 5 (see the Shadow War arc). I don’t entirely buy it. I tend to think that economics are a bigger force in tech development – even in wartime, most of the tech developed isn’t something like a pure weapon such as the atomic bomb; it is all the support infrastructure which has dual-use and can be adapted easily after a war because it is economically advantageous.
But this discussion took another familiar turn: that only after we have threatened ourselves with extinction through something like a nuclear war, would we find the will to go into space in a big way. That, actually, is one aspect of Communion of Dreams, but I don’t see mankind being able to survive a major nuclear exchange and then still have the capability to get into space. The infrastructure necessary to support a space-faring tech is really quite extensive, even if you have just small private companies and individuals building and using the rockets/spaceplanes to get to low-earth-orbit. Take out that infrastructure…wipe out the industrial base of the major nations, or even kick it back 50 years…and you will not have access to the kinds of composite materials, computing systems, et cetera, which are necessary components of any spacecraft. Burt Rutan will not be making SpaceShipTwo unless he has the parts – it’s that simple.
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There are a few things I’ve learned in my 49 years here. One is that we age, and we will die (sure, I’d love for Heinlein’s rejuvenation technology to come into play, or some version of ‘Singularity’ to save me from personal extinction…but I’m not counting on it.) It might be through something like the advancing senescence of global warming which we should see coming but act on too late. It might be something quick and unexpected, perhaps one of Diamandis’ $20 trillion rocks taking us out before we get around to using it for other purposes.
We should be like the fox, not the squirrel. The quick-witted one. The one who takes the future and makes it his own, rather than the one who is unpleasantly surprised for a brief and painful moment.
Jim Downey
(Cross posted to UTI.)
Here’s a small insight into caring for someone with Alzheimer’s/Dementia: any change to routine will have repercussions for a day or more.
As mentioned previously, I attended the Heinlein Centennial this past weekend, while my wife was performing with the North American Welsh Choir. My wife’s sister made arrangements to come and care for my mother-in-law while we were to be gone. This is essentially what we have to do whenever we want to both be gone anywhere, and logistically it is problematic: my sister-in-law not only has her own life, but she lives on the west coast and has to fly in to be here. Given that she’s a couple hours away from an airport on her end, and we’re effectively the same here, it’s more than a little bit of a hassle.
But even beyond that, our being gone presents other difficulties. Specifically, it throws my mother-in-law ‘off’, compounding the problems presented by her disease. My sister-in-law is good about rolling with this over a short time period, but then it happens again when we get home – which tends to negate the psychological benefits of being able to get away for a short period of time. An example from this afternoon: My mother-in-law had been napping after lunch, as is her custom. We have hospital rails on the sides of her bed, and a simple ‘web’ of 1″ nylon straps over the top, from railing to railing, to prevent her from getting out of bed. But she only sometimes remembers that she needs help getting out of bed, let alone standing or moving. As I told a friend in an email a bit ago:
*sigh* Been unbelievable this afternoon.
About 2:45 I heard her moving around. Not usually a big deal, since she will shift position. But then I heard something concerning, so went to investigate.
She had managed to slide her legs up to mid-thigh out between the bars (which are horizontal), dangling them over the side of the bed. She’d then gotten tangled up in the webbing, trying to sit up. I asked her why she didn’t just call if she wanted to get up, and I got a snarly response about her not needing any help, et cetera.
After sitting there and letting her try to untangle herself and get her legs back in bed, I got her sorted out. She was still snarly, said that I just wanted to keep her in bed for no reason, that she could do just fine, thank you very much, if I’d get ‘that stuff’ out of the way. Fine. I removed the webbing, put down the rail. Some minutes later, she finally admitted that yeah, maybe she did need some help to get up and onto the potty.
She’s suitably chagrined now. That *might* last the rest of the day. Or maybe not.
That’s just one example. The whole thing, from start to finish, took over an hour. And through it I had to explain repeatedly where she was, that her mother wasn’t here, who I was, et cetera. Some of this is ‘normal’ (perhaps I should say ‘typical’) behaviour – she’ll fuss with the webbing or some such, rather than calling for help. But this is the first time that she’s tried to slide between the bars of the railing, and it is rare for her to be hostile like that for any length of time. We’ve seen other examples of behaviour that are somewhat extreme as well. I can’t prove it, but I’m certain that this is all fallout from the change first of our being gone and my sister-in-law being here, and then her being gone and my wife and I being here.
Frustrating, particularly in that it disrupts my ability to think and write further, meaning some of the stuff I wanted to get done today (such as writing some additional posts about the Centennial) isn’t going to get done. So it goes.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Apollo program, Buzz Aldrin, Heinlein, Heinlein Centennial, movies, N. Am. Welsh Choir, NASA, Promotion, Publishing, Robert A. Heinlein, Science, Science Fiction, Society, Space, Writing stuff
I don’t get out much – being a full time caregiver for someone with Alzheimer’s is very demanding, and my wife and I are both careful not to leave all the responsibilities in the other’s lap for any real length of time (like over a weekend). If this was just a short-time thing, it wouldn’t be much of an issue. But we’ve been caregivers in this capacity for four years now, and we could easily have several more years ahead of us. You have to think long-term. This is the reason why I ignore the advice given to all unpublished authors to attend conventions – getting away is almost impossible for me at this time.
But as it happens, she has a concert scheduled with the North American Welsh Choir the weekend of July 7th in Kansas City, and made arrangements some months back to have her sister in from California to take care of my mother-in-law, in order that I could also attend the concert if I wanted. Otherwise, she would be here to help make sure that I didn’t carry an undue burden for the several days my wife would be away.
Then I heard about the Robert A. Heinlein Centennial celebration occuring at the same time – also in Kansas City!
Heinlein hasn’t really been a direct influence on my writing; I haven’t tried to emulate any of his style, or pay homage to his ideas. But few can deny that he was a huge influence in Science Fiction last century. And I certainly read a lot of his stuff when I was young – it helped shape and inform my world view, to some extent. Even to this day, I consider him to have been visionary on a number of points, and going back and rereading some of his classics is a good exercise for any writer – his stuff holds up surprisingly well, even 40 – 50 years after it was published.
Besides, this will be about more than just Heinlein’s legacy. A number of luminaries from the history of space exploration will be there, not to mention lots of science fiction writers and people involved in the publishing industry (check out the list of attendees!). It will be interesting, and a phenomenal opportunity to do some serious networking.
So, I’m going. Given that the big Gala Dinner is being held at the same time as my wife’s concert, I’ll be missing the concert altogether. I’m lucky to have such an understanding spouse.
See you there?
Jim Downey
“I need a toothpick.”
“No, mom, you had a toothpick after dinner. You picked your teeth for 40 minutes.”
“I need a toothpick!”
“Why?”
“‘Cause there’s something stuck between these front teeth.”
“You just brushed your teeth. There’s nothing there.”
“I can feel it.”
“Let me look.” (Looks. Nothing there.) “There’s nothing there but your gum, swollen from picking at it so long earlier.”
“I need a toothpick!!”
*sigh* Whisper, that only I hear. “Oh, not this again.”
“I need a toothpick!!”
“Mom, there’s nothing there. I just looked. Really.”
“But I can feel it!!”
“No. You picked at it so long…”
“When?”
“After dinner. You had a toothpick for over 40 minutes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“But there’s something there! I know it.”
“Mom, I just looked. THERE IS NOTHING THERE. You just brushed your teeth, and rinsed…”
“I did? When?”
“Just now. Just two minutes ago.”
“But I know that there’s something stuck there…”
Jim Downey
(Cross-posted from Unscrewing the Inscrutable.)
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Depression, General Musings, Health, Marketing, Promotion, Writing stuff
I was chatting online with a friend who is a bookseller, and asked whether there was a “Caring for an Alzheimer’s patient from a male perspective” book out there, since most men aren’t care-givers in the way I am. The response I got back:
On an average day, we carry 6-8 titles on understanding Alzheimer’s and caring for people who have it. They are geared towards children dealing with parents. None of them are from a male point of view. However, watching the titles that come out and do well, my suggestion would be to write a memoir. That’s what sells. People love crisis memoir…
To which I replied:
Let’s see…think I have the material to pull one off? Orphaned at 13…adolescence of acting out, violence, drug abuse… but pulled it together enough to get into one of the premier small colleges…car accident during my sophomore year which left me partially paralyzed, but I got involved in a martial art, recovered almost full function and went on to be a world class athlete in an obscure but increasingly popular sport…rejected by the Writer’s Workshop, but found a career in grad school…opened a business, grew that business into the largest gallery in the state, but that failed in spite of working 70-80 hours per week, leaving me in huge debt and struggling with depression…in spite of that managed to write a work of fiction and become a seminal ‘internet performance artist’ (Wikipedia says so!)…became a beloved newspaper columnist while caring for my Alzheimer’s-suffering mother-in-law, fighting the recurrence of depression and flirting with alcoholism…all the while a victim of migraines, having ‘lost my relationship with the God of my childhood’…
Yeah, with the right kind of spin, Oprah would love it. 😉
Actually, all of that is true, and there’s a lot more besides. Maybe I ought to consider this if I can’t get someone to pick up Communion of Dreams…hmmm…
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Depression, General Musings, Health, Sleep, Writing stuff
That’s what the doctor said yesterday.
We took my mother-in-law in for a check-up – first time she’s seen the doctor in almost a year. Oh, he’s been involved in her care all along, and will usually just prescribemeds or treatment without seeing her, based on our phone calls and stopping by his office, explaining what is going on, what we think she needs. That may seem unusual, but the truth is that it is easier and safer to do this – means that we don’t have to get her up and off to his office when she is fighting the flu or has been hurt. My medical skills are very good, and generally we can cope with anything here at home so long as we get the support from him.
Anyway, it was time for him to actually see her, and since she was doing OK presently, we got her off to his office. Thorough examination, discussion of her condition, confirmation of what we had suspected: that she had a minor stroke three weeks ago which had led to more little complications to our lives, less comfort for her.
And he asked us how we were doing, as he usually does. Whether we were getting a break now and again, et cetera. He, perhaps of all people, understands what care-giving at this level demands. He confirmed that we’re providing about the best care possible, based on what he can see, and make the comment at the head of this post. We came home.
And since then, we’ve been dealing with the ‘fallout’ of that visit. People who are living with many forms of dementia, and particularly with Alzheimer’s-type dementia, are disrupted by any changes in their routine. We’re lucky in that my mother-in-law usually stays pleasant during such changes (visits from people, going out to someplace strange) – many Alzheimer’s patients get very angry or combative during such occasions. But we always experience more problems in the 24 to 48 hours following. Last evening she was argumentative and hostile, and overnight she slept very poorly – changing position in her bed about every half hour after about midnight. And as a result, since I was ‘on-call’ and listening to the monitor to make sure she didn’t need help, I basically didn’t sleep during that whole time.
So this morning I’m exhausted, suffering a very nasty headache. And wondering just how the rest of the day is going to go wrong.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Depression, General Musings, Health, Sleep, Writing stuff
I once had a boss who was one of those self-made millionaires, a real classic ‘alpha’ from circa 1965, complete with the mindset and abuse of employees, even though it was some twenty years later. Once, when something I did was screwed up, I went in to talk with him about it. All in a huff he told me “I don’t want excuses.” I looked him in the eye and said “I’m not here to give an excuse. I’m here to give an explanation, so we know what went wrong and can avoid having it happen again.”
Eventually, I got him trained, and when it came time for me to move on we parted on good terms.
Nothing is screwed up, and I haven’t made any big mistakes that I’m here to explain. However, I have commented several times about how tired I am, and how being a full-time (read “around the clock”) care-provider for someone with Alzheimer’s means that I don’t ever get enough sleep. Basically, either my wife or I are always listening to a baby monitor at night, at most dozing lightly. We take turns doing this. The problem is, that even when you’re not ‘on-call’ it is tough to sleep really soundly when your bedmate is dozing lightly. And while I am willing to make many sacrifices to care for my mother-in-law, giving up sleeping with my wife altogether isn’t one of them.
Most parents know what this will do to you, since caring for an infant means this sort of interruption to your sleep cycle for weeks on end. But for us, this has been going on for about three years – it’s been a full year since we had much of a real vacation from it. It means that I operate at a chronic sleep deficit. I feel like I am perpetually at about the third entry in this blog-post about sleep deprivation, with a chronic low-grade headache, lack of focus, shortened temper, forgetfulness, et cetera.
Anyway, there’s an explanation for the next time I say that “I’m so tired,” echoing Lennon’s song of the same title written after three weeks of interrupted sleep cycle when off to Transcendental Meditation camp. When I say I don’t have the energy to do this or that, or that it is difficult to get my focus for accomplishing something, this is what I mean, not that I just didn’t get a good night’s sleep the night before.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 