Clematis

Kay, it sounds like you had some good skills in dealing with your mom and her dementia. That kind of confabulation is way beyond the fuzzy trace thing where little details get filled in by what seems logical. Having someone you love totally restructure major events because they can't remember any of it-like the divorce you spoke of that was not a divorce. It's hard to not argue with that kind of thing but going with the flow certainly makes for a better flow with a person who has significant dementia. My dad never got that bad; it was more like he was having trouble managing his affairs...

Awww...!

Yeah, he did have a little dementia going on; he also had some other things going on like problems with attention and not really caring about a lot of things. I don't know. By the time he died, our beloved doctor finally said, "well, you know, your dad has moderate dementia". That was the first time anyone used that word in the same sentence as my dad's name, but it was clear something was awry. From what assessment did this conclusion of "moderate dementia" arise? Who knows! I am a school psychologist and I evaluate children and adolescents for schools to see why they are having trouble in school. It's not rocket science. You can test thousands of six-year-olds or sixteen-year-olds and norm a test--figure out what their ability is compared to others the same age with 90-95% certainty. You can do that only because at young ages, people's abilities are fairly consistent. It's not that hard to put in numbers how close they are to average, above or below. But an elderly person...there is so much variability. I have been trying to figure out how neurologists come to this conclusion, and I saw a neurologist whom I really respected evaluate my dad and pronounce him to have no dementia. I was intrigued and disturbed, because I think the bottom line is that it was meaningless. I have worked with people who had been declared incompetent and removed from their homes by their relatives-possibly for financial gain. And where was the data? I asked these questions and got answers like, "Well, just look at him/her!" I'm not sure there actually is any way to really assess an older person's cognitive ability other than a ballpark range, because there are so many variables. They can fake good or bad (cover stuff up or be obtuse for attention), they have good days and bad days, medications can have profound effects, and on and on and on. My father was a brilliant man with exceptional abilities in many areas. Three years before he moved here he was involved in day trading on the internet. I'm not sure if he was making money or not, but he sure had a lot of precise notes. But when he moved into this condo, he was not able to tell if the internet was working or not. How was that possible? I had no way to tell, but I do believe that he was struggling in some ways he didn't want me to know. I think that if he had stayed here on his own he would have been in serious trouble of different kinds all along. Especially early on, I didn't think I was doing that much for him. By the end, it was clear to everyone that he wasn't able to figure out a lot of things. But looking back I think I was the glue that held him together so that he could stay at home. It's kind of a weird thought... Had he been in assisted living, he would have had his food pulverized much earlier. He would have had more supervision and fewer falls and mishaps. Looking back, I realize that since he really was living at home alone and I was looking over his shoulder, so to speak, we were both out on a limb. His living alone was a total crapshoot. I think the only person who would have taken that gamble on him was me. I'm glad we did it. But all along I felt like I was in the dark trying to make decisions. And now, I feel like an archaeologist searching for clues to the past, except I was there and I am still equally in the dark.

Going through my dad's stuff and reflecting on the ten years he spent out here in AZ with me after my mother died have changed my view of how he was actually functioning towards the end of his life. My sisters had spent more time with him than I had and were probably aware that he had already declined significantly-cognitively- by the time he moved out here. As I look back I think he was covering up a lot all the time he was here. People would tell me that I was in denial as to his actual ability to process things, but hey-both neurologists that he saw said that he did not have dementia. He could take me out to dinner and calculate a tip that was always very generous, scoring points with everyone, so what was the problem? He deferred to me about a lot of things, which was flattering that he valued my opinion. But I think he didn't really know what was in his house or how to do a lot of things. Maybe he overtipped deliberately-maybe not. Toward the beginning he would tell me about things he read or saw on TV and they were always scrambled. Then he didn't volunteer anything he saw or read, and I would quiz him, and he couldn't really say, but if I mentioned something he often found it familiar. I think honestly I looked the other way-without even realizing it. When he made decisions on his own they were not good ones. I think he really needed me from the start and I didn't even realize it-I just did whatever it took. From the get go, ten years ago, he was concerned that I would "put him in a nursing home". I thought this was bizarre, but I think now that if someone had carefully assessed him, any professional would have weighed in against him living at home alone. He had tons of hospital and ER visits all along and the staff always looked very relieved when I was there to cart him off. I think looking back that even ten years ago any of these hospital staff would have not been comfortable with him going home to be living alone. But since I appeared to be competent and very concerned, they said okey dokey and wheeled him out to my car. I always made a point of telling them that I was a social worker and lived a minute and a half from his front door. I honestly believed most of the ten years he was here that he was doing ok, but looking at it now, I think that he was only doing ok because I was here-the helicopter daughter, who just happened to be a social worker who had done home health with the elderly, and who also is very resourceful and full of energy and drive. Lena is a therapy cat and we visit residents in independent living, assisted care, and skilled nursing facilities. At this point I really cannot honestly say that even at the beginning he was in better shape than any of the people I have ever seen at any of those places. It seems likely that I was the glue all along, the only thing that kept him living at home, which was what he very much wanted. He never said so exactly, but I think he knew all along that I was the glue and so did my sisters, and every other person who worked with him or got to know him at all. I always used to say that sometimes he was the parent, sometimes, I was the parent, but mostly it was even-steven... But I don't think that was really true and I wonder how I could have really missed that all those years. All those people, all those years, telling me he belonged in assisted living and my thinking they were all crazy. Maybe I was crazy...and so was he-or just hopeful. Nevertheless, we made it work and for a long time...and now he is gone. I would rather he was here and alive in any condition than where he is.

One of the best ways to process what is difficult for a person is to talk about it to someone who will listen and encourage you to just talk in a safe environment, such as individual counseling. Talking allows you to sort things out, and the more times you talk about it the more clear it will become. A good counselor will mostly listen, offer some insights, and make even fewer suggestions, and make strong recommendations only when true danger is imminent. In fact, the most common mistake counselors make is to jump in and offer advice too soon. Groups can be helpful because you hear others' stories that are similar to your own, and sometimes it is easier to make objective observations in another person than in yourself, since it's hard to get out of your own head far enough to get a clear view. A local hospice would be a good place to ask for referrals to grief counselors and/or groups. This site is also very helpful...you will find many people who are on the same path and have a good understanding of the path you are on, because each in their own way, we are all on the same path of coming to grips with significant loss. The site has a very nice "feel" to it, and people are kind and supportive, in some part due to the people that it attracts, but also largely due to Marty, a certified grief counselor, who moderates the site, encourages the safe environment of unconditional positive regard for all. Marty also offers her own comments and refers members and visitors to articles that can be very helpful and pertinent. Be patient with yourself and take careful and thoughtful care of yourself, because you are really going through a lot! -Laura

I stood painting up and it went ok. I'm not sure I like the painting but it's probably because it's not complete in some way and not from the standing. The Delphinium is a cluster of three flowers with subtle color variations...not my specialty. It needs something to pop it out. Perhaps some coffee will help me think of something. Meanwhile, there are some fabulous Hibiscus flowers that are just now opening. I think I'll work on them. I have not been medically cleared (my MRI results) to go to work on my big sorting/packing/moving project yet and I have no helpers today, so I guess I'm free to paint all day! I am feeling better and that is good... It's 102 and you have no air conditioners/coolers? That is terrible! How are you coping with that? Spending the day in a bathtub of cold water? I used to know some people who had old claw foot tubs, old tin tubs for watering livestock-what do you call those?), or just cheap plastic kiddie pools that they would lounge in when it was hot...

I hope it will be Monday. Anyway, that is the estimate...

Yeah-that definitely happened with my dad. He was not all there at the end. Even ten years before the end he had some things mixed up, but tried to not let on. I have realized this more and more while going through his stuff. When my sisters were here, I realized that we had some really different versions of things-mine from the last ten years, and theirs from earlier. For example, my dad had recently telling me that his father came to the US with his parents from England when he was 12 and started some kind of work almost immediately, even though he was still in school he had some kind of enterprise going. I had put that in his life story to have read at the Celebration of Life and my sisters both said that wasn't right. They remember hearing Daddy talking about how his dad came here at the age of three and went to school wearing Little Lord Fauntleroy outfits, and he was so badly teased that he went home and insisted that they buy him some normal clothes for the US. When they said that, the Little Lord Fauntleroy story sounded familiar. But age three? That would have been in 1902. Who sent their three-year old to school in 1903? I suspect the truth is somewhere in between...maybe he was six, and six turned into the sixth grade, which would have been about 12. My sisters were adamant, and so I just changed it to their version. In any event it was a better story! When going through my dad's old papers I have come across quite a number of things that refute the family lore that my mother passed on to us over the years. Was she lying to make herself look better? Were her memories that distorted? Who knows...but I tend to believe the dates and events the way they were transcribed at the time-on receipts, legal docents, etc. But at this point does it really matter? In my school psychology program I had graduate classes in Memory and Learning with a professor whose field of expertise was "fuzzy trace theory". This means that after some time, we think we have full memories with all the details, but the truth is that all we have is a fuzzy trace and we fill in the details based on what seems logical. This goes a long way to explain why people in the same family remember things differently. But I can tell you from my experience that bringing "fuzzy trace theory" into an argument about memories only gets you further shot full of holes. People are certain that their memories are 100% correct because they remember it... Sigh...

It's hard to tell what he felt. The tumor might have been growing underneath connective tissue or something and suddenly popped through. I have known several people who had large tumors they were unaware of-a woman who had a tumor the size of an orange in a breast-and had no idea, and another woman had about ten pounds of metastatic growth in her abdomen. She was trying really hard to lose weight and complaining about eating all that chicken and no carbs...and the truth was probably that she was losing fat but the cancer was growing and she had no idea. You would think a person would know if they had a huge tumor, but they often don't. And I really don't think cats and dogs know... Your dog was adorable and I am sure that you really loved him and he had a good life with you. I would encourage you to think about when your dog was healthy and young and how much you loved him, even if it makes you cry. You are alive and you have lost your beloved dog, and I think that is the core of it...see what I mean? - Laura

Aww, Kay-I feel so badly for you about your kitty! And it's so hard to not know-and you may never know for sure. I think I told you that I lost my cat Freya three times. The first was for about 10 days, the second was for about 10 months, and the last one was final, but after the other two times somewhere inside I never gave up because I had dreams of finding her for 20 years! But she was not a social cat-she was almost feral when I got her. One of the things that thrilled me about Freya was that she loved and trusted me-and me only. She wasn't even too sure about my ex-husband. She would have never gone home with a stranger, and she was an excellent hunter. On the other hand I once had a Siamese kitten named Pima with a distinctively bent tail who disappeared when we had had her for a few months. We noticed her months after she disappeared, wandering our back yard, pregnant and sporting a new collar. It was impossible to tell if someone really thought she was homeless, if she was one of those cats who have two families where they get food and attention, or if someone simply stole her. Maybe Freya told her to get lost...Freya was rather aggressive and territorial, and we acquired Pima while Freya was gone for the 10 days. I wanted to reclaim her, because she was our cat after all-having legitimately gotten her at the Humane Society. But my ex thought we should just let her stay with her new family, and we did. Perhaps Pima found a home where she could be a regal only pet, and not have to share with two other cats and a German Shepherd. It is excruciatingly impossible to know when animals go missing and you don't find any evidence...

I hope this was helpful, and I want you to know that I wasn't just being kind but realistic. When people are trained to work with people or animals, about the first thing they learn is how to do an assessment. Professional training also teaches you how to be subtle about a lot of your assessments, and sometimes to be rather sly about it, because you don't want to upset people or make them overly worried, as they might be if they knew all of the things they were looking at and thinking about. I just recently learned that dental hygienists, among other things, are looking for oral cancer, when they appear to be just checking out your teeth! I am a clinical social worker and a school psychologist. I also began the training to become an RN, but decided to stick with the social-emotional and cognitive aspects. Nevertheless, I learned a lot while I was in the nursing program-even how to be a better medical social worker, which I was at the time. I was doing home health care with a team of nurses at the time. Good training teaches any professional to assess, assess, assess all the time. Some vets are very good with animals but not so good with people, and the one you went to sounds like one of these. It's great if you get someone who is good at both, but a vet may be short with you because s/he is focused on your pet. I have a vet who is very sweet and patient, and it is a good thing that she is patient because I ask her a lot of questions, mostly about what she is looking at and what she sees. I always find it amazing because she may look like she is just petting Lena in all the right places for a cat, but she is actually feeling her thyroid, checking for growths, etc. I had a vet once ask me rather casually, "oh, your cat goes outside a lot?" I said yes and asked him why he asked. He told me to feel in a certain spot and told me that Freya had been shot with a BB gun and it had flattened against her shoulder on impact, having healed a long time ago. I was amazed. Later, I found one of these on my cat Lena, who had been a stray before I adopted her and she adopted the life of a protected indoor cat. It was in a more subtle location and I asked Lena's vet if that was a BB. She said yes, but that it had been there for a long time and we should just leave it be unless it started to move or something, because it was probably trapped in connective tissue by now. I find it amazing that vets can figure all this out through all that fur and without your realizing that they are doing anything but petting your animal. I feel really badly for you that you have suffered for two years from guilt, because I really don't think you have anything to feel guilty about. Grieving your beloved pet can cause anguish and grieving, sometimes for a long time. But I hope you can let go of the guilt, because it really sounds like your dog was near his end-you said he was going blind and could barely stand some days. It sounds like you spared him a lot of suffering, which is why vets do euthanasia with elderly pets who are going downhill. -Laura

Cherub, it's impossible to believe that a vet would put a pet to sleep without a good reason. If he didn't ask you why, it must have been obvious to him why he was being asked to perform a euthanasia on a pet. If he didn't ask you questions he must have had a clear rationale that he thought was understood, if not obvious to both of you. And your dear sweet dog was elderly and had some other significant medical problems. It is even possible that this is something that the vet had believed this should be done, but he was waiting for a cue from you... I don't know anything about cancer in animals but I do know a fair amount about people who go into any of the healing or helping professions. People who become vets love animals. I have a close friend who is a vet and she has told me that there are people who bring in an animal that they no longer want and ask that it be put down. These requests do not slide easily past a vet. No vet wants to euthanize a healthy animal for no reason-it is a heart-breaking thing to be asked to do. It is terribly sad that you have lost your adorable dog, and it is awful that the vet wouldn't talk to you afterwards, because if he had talked to you later he probably would have told you that your fears were unfounded. It is not as if you brought a healthy and young animal in to the vet to be put down because he was no longer convenient. It sounds like there was a good reason that the vet went along with your request. I hope you can let yourself off the hook because I really doubt that you belong there...

My dad was an attorney (in patent law) and he went to an attorney who specializes in trusts. wills, and estate law to set things up so that we would not have to go through probate. It would have been good if he had talked to me more about things while he was alive, but the more I see of the state of things in his house, the more I realize that he probably wasn't able to do that (cognitively) but didn't want to admit or let me see how much he was failing mentally. But he named me executor because I live nearby and also because he trusted me. My younger sister is not someone anyone has ever thought could be trusted, and my older sister is like a child. She cannot handle the business of her own life, much less an estate across the country. She was irritated that I was named executor (said to me, "well you WANTED to be the executor!") No, I was selected and named executor. It is not a thrill or a joy. I am keeping careful records and consulting with the attorney about what I am doing. I think you are right about the greed-it makes so many people unable to see anything else. It's pretty ugly...

That's really great Kevin! It's really good that you've seen a positive change in things with your sister. It must make you feel good...That's interesting what you said about always taking the high road when it comes to family. I think you're right, but it's hard to do when they are continually going for the low blows. I guess for me right now the thing for me to do is do the best I can with the estate and get out of my dad's house as soon as I can because that will be the best for all three of us. They are angry with me because I am unable to do the impossible. It's probably better that they are not talking to me. They were unwilling to do anything to help my dad and they are unwilling to do anything to help me. They just wanted his money when he was alive and that's what they want now, is the most possible of what is left. Therefore, they are having to help me pay other people to do what must be done, because it would take me years if I had to do it myself. Nevertheless, it's probably better this way. I think the progress is faster and nowhere as near as messy or emotional as it would be if either one of them were here.

Marg, That's interesting...I think when you are that far apart in age, it's like you grow up in different families even if you have the same parents. My dad and his brother were 12 years apart; my dad grew up during the depression and WW-II He learned to work hard and fight for what he wanted. His brother was born after the family had become much more affluent and they spoiled him and gave him whatever he wanted. My dad went off to college and his brother took over whatever my dad couldn't take with him. He expected everything to be given to him. He didn't do well or live long. I thought he was cool and loved him as a child, but he didn't really ever grow up...it was sad. My sisters and I are close in age, but my mother pitted us against each other. My older sister and I have more in common by our basic nature and talents in art and music, but she saw me as competition and when we were young she demanded that I give up music and art and find my own interests. Huh? Not something I could do. My younger sister I have understood. I took an early stance that I would fight for whatever I wanted and never gave it up. She decided that she deserved only the best and the way to get it was through a man with a good income. I moved out west to get away from the family craziness, married, and left when I realized he would never grow up I left. My sisters had kids and lived close to each other. I think they have more in common in lifestyle. My older sister says that she doesn't really understand the youngest any more than I do, but she tries he best to get along. With me, she figures I should be able to read her mind and everything should be easy. I fear we are actually growing farther and farther apart. I think I am going to have to accept somehow that they are who they are and I can't actually change anything...

At my beloved aunt's memorial service, I was talking to my cousin Scott (son of this aunt) about grieving. I said something about people saying "I'm sorry for your loss", and he said, "That's what I have always said to people!" He looked kind of like I had slapped him. I tried to backpedal, and he said no, it was ok and he really didn't like being on the receiving end of that clipped little quip. He asked me what should a person say, and I told him, "I don't know...ask them a question-try to just give them a chance to say anything they want to about what they're going through". People try to "be strong" or whatever they think is expected of them. I think it's a kind of a gift to encourage suffering people to be real...

Kay and Andrew, 26 and 29 is way too young to lose your father! I am like twice that and my dad was 88. I still wasn't ready, and feel like we were ripped off from time we should have had together. My friend Greg's dad is 93 or 95 and just got out of the hospital from multiple broken bones he got from someone hitting him on his tractor-hit and run-with a car. Greg's dad was thrown off the tractor-at 93 or however old he is-into a ditch, and survived and is healing. I feel terrible for Greg and his dad, whom I've never met, and am thrilled that he's getting better. But part of me also thinks..."Why not my dad-why couldn't he be out riding a tractor when he was 93 or 95 or whatever?" Well, part of the story is that Greg's dad was riding the tractor to the mailbox because he is unable to walk to the mailbox. But is he getting a neighbor to fetch his mail now? No...he's buying a new tractor!

I always say something like "I'm so sorry-that's awful..." and immediately segue into an open-ended question about them. Then the ball is in their court. If I get a one word answer, then I know they don't want to talk about it, at that time, or to me. Ok. But If they immediately launch into something, I try to be the best listener that I can for as long as I can, no matter who it is or if I even know them, like I just met them in the grocery store. But that's me...and I know that the world is full of suffering people that have a dearth of people to talk to. Sometimes I can be that for them and sometimes I can't. I'm pretty good at setting limits... When my sisters were in town for my dad's memorial, we went in a Chipotle's and I got up from the table to find a fork and almost fell as I tripped over a stroller. The mother-and stroller owner-apologized and said she was glad I didn't fall. I said "Yeah, me too-I could have so easily" and went on to say that my dad just died and I was not all there. She said, "Oh, I'm sorry for your loss" and I said "Yeah, me too. It's been really hard." And then she started telling me all about some death in her family and we were busy there in the Chipotle talking about how hard it is. My sisters had to about drag us apart to get me to sit down and eat my food because we were supposed to go on a Pink Jeep Tour that Diane wanted to do. After I sat down they wanted to know what was wrong with me that I would get into a conversation like that with someone I didn't even know. People are friendly in Sedona and I talk to people I don't know all the time. I thought, "What is wrong with me? What is wrong with YOU?" But I said, "Say, can I have a bite of that thing you're eating? That looks really good! What is it?"

I am still not painting the delphiniums and the petals are starting to fall off. I have it inside since it is 100 degrees here. I'm just not sure I can stand up that long, and I am very used to standing. I'm not sure I can sit and paint...

I think the crazy/courageous line is a line in time. If you do something crazy but it comes out ok, anyone could claim it as courageous. If you get bad results the same thing might be seen as crazy... Computers? I think the problem with them is it doesn't matter how much you learn, there is so much more to learn. There is exponentially more everyday! Even the IT people are lost half the time. My undergraduate degree was in Computer Information Systems, and as far as could tell most of it was irrelevant by the time I graduated. I am SO glad I switched directions...I think you have to really care to keep up with all that stuff. And I never did. I buy all Apple because you can get on the phone and proclaim your undying love for all things Apple, and they know it's true because they see a list of all your Apple devices on their screen. Then I tell them that I am totally clueless and they will have to hold me by the hand and walk me through the whole thing, one bit at a time...and they do! It can take a long time, but they are absolutely charming and pleasant. If they get frustrated, I interrupt them to tell them I am constantly amazed that Apple can find so many patient and really nice people to operate the tech-help lines. This encourages them to either take a deep breath and continue, or to find a supervisor because they are in over their heads and/or I am obviously a nut-ball...

It is very nice to hear him talking to me. It is not the same thing as having him with me, but it is reassuring. I hope I get the MRI results Monday. But for now, I am going to paint the Delphiniums! ...finally...

Thanks, Kevin! My sister is also a FB friend...in fact I just heard a ding that she posted something. I can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing to see all the stuff she posts, actually it's mostly things she's sharing that someone else posted. It hurts my feelings that she has so much time for FB and superficial friendships with her artist friends, but is unable to find it in herself to be friends with me. I try to keep reminding myself that functionally she is like an adolescent-like my other sister. Also I really don't know what she is going through-or my other sister either-since they have chosen to not communicate with me. The bottom line is that they are both angry with me for my failure to not just throw myself under the bus to execute his estate ASAP so that they can get as much money as soon possible. They weren't close to my dad and didn't care much about him-or me. I am doing the best I can.

Hi, Andrew - I just now read your posts and the responses. Your situation is really heart-wrenching, even for a stranger to read about, and daunting elements are everywhere-the suddenness, the death situation, the way you found him, the alcoholism, the family problems, your youth and uncertainty about the future, your friends' lack of ongoing support, and so on. It is easy to understand that you would be in a lot of distress from all of this. And you are so young, which makes it even more tragic. You can get through it, but anyone with a heart who heard your situation would feel compassion for you. You can get through this, but you will need a lot more help than you are likely to find in your family and friends. My situation is similar to yours in several aspects-my dad died, my family members turned away from me-or turned on me, and my friends (after a few weeks) disappeared-at least temporarily. A therapist once said to me, "Often friends just can't go the distance". She was so right, and I think that is what you are experiencing. It doesn't mean that your friends aren't true friends, but they aren't professional consolers or people like we have on this site who have decided to devote their hearts to fellow grievers. They just have a limited ability to deal with something this difficult. Kay and Marty are spot on in recommending that you seek professional help with the grief process and with the family alcoholism. And please do keep coming back here! One of the coolest aspects of this site is that you can find support from someone anytime. If it is the middle of the night, you might not get a response right away, but even then you can gain something from reading what has been written to others in similar situations. Also, Marty does a great job of monitoring the content so that the flow stays kind and gentle. Counselors are great, but you generally have only an hour-or maybe two-a week to talk to them. What do you you do the rest of the time? Come to us-we are here for you. Grieving a parent-or anyone you deeply loved- is a long hard road. It is likely that most of your friends are around your age, and have not had the kind of loss that you have had; at many levels they may not "get it". Remember to take care of yourself, try to get enough sleep, water and food, and be very careful when you are walking, driving, or doing anything where a person could possibly be injured. And please don't worry about the length of your posts-it gives us more details so that we understand better what you are going through. In some ways we are all going through the same thing, but at the same time everyone and their situation is different. Also, take your time and don't try to rush anything. You need a good filter so that you don't worry about what people tell you-as to what you should be doing or feeling, or for how long. People way the dumbest things that are so irritating to a grieving person. However long the person lived, if you loved them it wasn't enough. All those insipid remarks like "well, it was it was his time", "well, he lived a long life", "well, he's in a better place now", "well, at least he's out of pain now" make me want to scream (or throttle someone). How do they think they know? They don't-people say these things because they really don't know what to say and they want to make you feel better, and sometimes they are trying to feel better themselves. I do try to control myself, and when I find myself snapping at someone who is trying to be nice to me, I follow it up with, "I'm sorry-I just..." I think the worst is "I'm sorry for your loss". It's so generic and says so little, and yet it tries to sum it all up. I worried about what to say about this, because I knew I would hear it at least a thousand times more than I wanted to hear it, which would have been zero. So, when someone says "I'm sorry for your loss", I say, "Me too!" and then follow that with whatever is on my mind about what I am or have been going through. The first times I said this, I thought to myself that it was a dumb thing to say ("me too"), but it was actually a good thing to say and following it with some details, because you get something out of it. Either they mumble something and walk away (and you know for sure they don't want to hear about it), or more likely, they respond with something genuine, since you have opened the door to a more open conversation. Then you use your filter to keep what is helpful to you and try to forget anything they said to you that you find irritating or irrelevant. Mostly what I have heard is that I have a lot of company. That was kind of long, Andrew, but I hope that some of it was helpful for you. -Laura

I had a woman helping me go through some of my boxes that my dad had parked in the garage and never touched after he moved here. We came across a box that she deemed, "the Laura box" because it was entirely about me...letters from me to my parents from ages ago, letters to my mother's mother Marion from ages ago, a cardinal that I had carved for Marion from a slab of Juniper ages ago, pictures of me, photos that I had taken, and prized family photos that were framed (my sisters had framed copies of these but never me). Also, my mother collected little boxes of all sorts and eventually had a darling coffee table with a glass top and a display area underneath. As my father began to travel the world and had a more generous income, the boxes became more special, tinier, and obviously more valuable. I know my sister Diane got the table and a few of the boxes, but there were so many! I wondered where they all went. So, in the "Laura box" I found a large shoe box that contained quite a number of the special ones. There is no explanation about this box. It didn't have my name on it, and it's kind of hard to believe my sisters compiled this box of treasures for me. But my dad brought it out here and said nothing about it for ten years. It would have been nice to have had the opportunity to talk to him about the boxes, where he got them, and that sort of thing. But what a lovely surprise to find this box after he was gone and to be able to have it to peruse later. I didn't have a chance to look at all of it, but carefully packed it up for later. Is that sweet or what? I also found some documents related to family history that make it obvious that a lot of things that my mother told us-the family lore-were fabricated in significant details, because the legal documents were there in black and white. It was rather odd to discover that she had made up all this stuff. And it's not things she would have been likely to have forgotten. Like this one...The property that we called "Camp" in West Virginia-my mother's father bought the property on the Greenbriar River and had a log cabin built there. We went there every summer when we were kids, saw our cousins there and it was the best part of our childhoods-by far. When my grandmother had had several strokes and was no longer to really go down there any longer, the story is that she gave it to my father because she so appreciated that he had spend every one of his summer vacations for decades fixing it up and keeping it up. No one would have been able to enjoy it had he not been willing and able to do all that work. Turns out my grandmother gave it to my mother, and not my mother's sister (who loved in the same state). We believed our mother, but somehow I think my aunt Nancy knew what happened...after all she was a realtor. Strange, but nevertheless, it was cool to see the documents related to when camp was built-how the poles were treated for the log cabin, a brochure for the windows, etc.

Well, I had my MRI's and it went ok. I came home with a cooked chicken and Lena =^. .^= seemed to think I should get MRI's more frequently if they came with an entire chicken! Meow! But I'm still getting really tired. I think I need to figure out how to get to bed earlier, because Lena wakes me up really early and I don't seem to go back to sleep, Burning the candle at both ends, however inadvertently, is probably not the way to recover from a head injury.