As Published in PRACTICAL ALZHEIMER'S

You can find the original article here....

Written by Rhonda Brantley

 

You’ve heard about Alzheimer’s and dementia for years, but never suspected it would creep into your own home. Much like cancer, a house fire or losing your life savings, we just don’t anticipate bad things happening to us. Those things happen to other people.

The truth is, Alzheimer’s happens and young-onset Alzheimer’s is becoming a more common diagnosis. It was late 2007 when my husband was diagnosed at the age of 61. He could have been diagnosed at 59. Actually, he should have been diagnosed when he was 56.

When you have to hire someone to look after your husband while he continues to run the family business, you know. You’ve raised seven children together and the baby is just nine years old. You have a multi-million dollar real estate business, with land holdings and construction in progress. To off-handedly suggest your suspicions to the man in charge would not be safe.

But he knew. And he hid it well. For years he blamed, masked, argued and fought while managing a perfectly-orchestrated charade of cover-ups. Unable to manage the credit card reader to buy gas or to read and understand contracts. Lost keys, lost funds, lost friends. But when he lost his way while picking the baby up from school one breezy fall day, the gig was up. I could no longer cash the checks he was writing.

I recall now a series of events that led up to what I believe was an accurate diagnosis of mixed dementia. Take his multiple concussions, numerous surgeries under general anesthesia and a long history of hypertension. Add a near death accident resulting in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, a stressful career trembling under the weight of a crumbling economy and, BAM, the perfect storm. The storm that rocked the foundation of our family, our business, our lives.

We do lean on Alzheimer’s for treatment and services and most dementias at that time were being treated the same. First Aricept, then add the Namenda. File for your Social Security Disability, get your affairs in order, review your will, check your deeds, go home and wait it out. That’s all you get. Because with Alzheimer’s, that’s all they’ve got.

After trying for years to get a diagnosis, the formality of hearing it came as a relief. Confirmation that someone else knew meant that I could either hide it, run from it or attack it.

Within just a few short days the business was gone, the home and assets were for sale  and we had made the front page of our local newspaper. There was little time to think of what to do next, with reporters calling for interviews, extended family coming out of the woodwork and employees scrambling for cover. Because he ‘seemed’ okay to those who were not around him every day, his condition created its own set of issues. Having a reason to pack up the circus gave me a few moments of peace until I learned he was simultaneously continuing to reassure everyone all was well. That he was fine.

Therein lies the crime when diagnosed so young, with a wife in her early 40s and young children at home to influence and care for. Suddenly, Dad becomes the kid. Early on, we noticed his reasoning skills shattered and a once-shrewd negotiator became a pushover. An outdoorsman who couldn’t be trusted with his own gun, a fisherman who couldn’t navigate his boat in familiar waters, a man stripped of his credit cards and cash to keep him from giving it all away as he could no longer make change.

There were no outreach programs for teens and little to no support groups for young spouses, so I honed my focus. Searching for clinical trials, new therapies and answers, I continued to dole out our life savings for medications not covered by insurance and attorneys to keep the wolves at bay. Social Security Disability Income was approved in under 60 days, but we were in the GAP and earning just $1.74 per month too much to knock us out of any other assistance.

From the day of my husband’s diagnosis, they gave him three years at home. I read every book and magazine available on the subject. My goal from the onset was to care for him at home with the respect, love and compassion that he had always showered upon us: an excellent husband and father, abundant provider, loving and kind. I created a game plan and became the quarterback. Our children blocked and ran the plays. Adamant we would make those the best three years of our lives, we were blessed with nearly five.

With the passing of each month, I convinced myself it could not get any worse. However, each and every week it did. To see the love of your life fall into a daily routine of such insignificance is heart-wrenching, while together we witnessed a once robust and physical powerhouse lose all desire to live. On his darkest days, he would apologize to me for having to assist with his bathing, shaving and dressing. He was humble and grateful, but sad. How must it feel to know you are losing your mind?

Without a good map, I chartered our course with a group of excellent doctors, road trips when we could afford the gas and good food. He came to expect it and I continued to demand it as this essentially became a new way of life for all of us. Our children are better men and women today having navigated through it.

Eventually turning to a journal and then to a blog, I expelled my rawest emotions with both candor and fear. Here and there, peppering the insanity of our days with humor and angst allowed me to cry through it for another dose. It was my plight and my duty and so convinced that it would go on forever and ever, I nearly missed the ending.

My precious husband passed away on Easter Sunday 2012, on the heels of a wonderful day at home. A traditional home-cooked feast, he was giddy all day having mama in the kitchen and our now college-bound baby giving him more attention than ever. Except for a bout of indigestion, there was no pain for him when the widow-maker came to visit.

With an aging population, the tightening of research funds, limited nursing-home beds for dementia patients and the ongoing threat to any assistance for the elderly and sick, we find ourselves at a real crossroads. Not everyone who succumbs to Alzheimer’s will have the support and care my husband received — and most will not know how to find it. Caring for someone with dementia is not a walk in the park. But with knowledge, the right mindset, lots of love, and a full portion of grace, it can happen.

It was the most important job of my life.

Diagnosis: Alzheimer's - Healthline's Top 25 Blogs of 2013

When a spouse is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, most people want to turn and run. Not Rhonda Brantley. This brave woman was caregiver to her husband for the final five years of his life. Brantley turned her experience into Diagnosis: Alzheimer’s to help spouses and caregivers going through the same heart-wrenching challenge.

Part documentary of Billy Ray’s final years and part informational resource, Diagnosis: Alzheimer’s is the story of lives fractured by Alzheimer’s, with the highs and lows wrapped into one beautiful and bittersweet tale from start to finish.

I Wish I Could Have Said Goodbye

I started composing a few thoughts several days before what would have been Bill's 67th birthday on Monday, February 4th. It's as if I need to write 'into' it for several days to post on what would have been a day of visits, cards and his favorite Edgar's Strawberry Cake.

Just another first, I am reminded of a Words of Encouragement card I just received from my good friend, Valerie Springer. It goes something like this...

"Believe in yourself,  you can do it. You can and you will get through this. Search within yourself and you will find strength and hope for tomorrow. I am your friend, I care and I am here for you whenever you need me."

Then she pens, "A year of first(s). The best is always, the first or new. Praying you will spread your wings and fly this year. God wants our first offerings, first thanksgivings, first hours of the day for prayer and first new experiences to be give to him. This is a first for you in this new season."

I keep bumping into people who have lost a spouse or partner at around my age. Where relationships were long, so many experiences were shared, children and grandchildren are a part of your lives. Travel, hardships, good times and bad. Plans, dreams and goals. If you had been together this long you were bound to be best friends.

True, I had life experiences before Bill. But what of our children who knew him from their first breath? And, what can I share with them about his last breath? And, isn't it odd, that even though you know your loved one is out of pain, there still remains a level of guilt within us?

I immediately experienced 'survivor guilt'. That I had somehow managed to survive this great trauma and he had not. That I would live to see our children and their children. That I would travel and taste and experience.

Then within a few months, I began to experience another wave of guilt. 

• Did I tell him I loved him often enough?
• Did I do everything within my power to make sure he was comfortable and well taken care of?
• Did I comfort?
• Did I sometimes lack patience?
• Did I sometimes want to just run away?
• Did I think of the burden on myself too much?
• Did I put myself in his shoes?
• Did I fight hard enough, demand the respect for him he deserved?
• Did I seek out the best medical care possible?

Having to justify and answer the above questions have eased the pain. The asking and then pulling from my memory days, times, moments and pictures that qualify and quantify the answers. Where I found myself lacking in the process, I just dig a little deeper. I may not have done it all exactly how it should have been done, but I believe now that I did it as he wanted.

Family and friends:

For Michelle and I, it was a life changing experience. I saw Wade rise up to do the unimaginable to protect his baby sister. For my neighbors who witnessed something I hope they never have to again as we fought in earnest for another breath, Then, for racing me up the interstate to get to Little Miss. For Amy and Wade who never left my side. For my friends who were here within hours and left nothing for me to think of or do. For my besties who watched over me while I slept. For my neighbors who continued to feed and minister to us. For Bill Vogel who gathered their bunch up and came running. For Unk and Kay who put it in the road. For Mike who left it all and rescued his mother like he always does. And, for Little Miss and Susie who have suffered the most. They continue to carry a heavy burden and unnecessary guilt.

"Because you were not here every minute. Because you were not here at that last breath. Because you think there was something else you could have done. Because, like me - you wish you could have said goodbye. Trust me when I say that Dad knew he was loved. That his family brought joy to his heart. That he knew that our actions and involvement, sacrifices and time were for him."

Feeling more like myself each day, I have to wonder, "Who is me?"

As if to rekindle, it requires such an emotional journey to delve that deep, to try and get to a place where you were - when how you got here defines you. Then, to realize in just a fleeting moment that who you were is no longer relevant. Myself is who you've become through the process.

It also makes me wonder about the people who have to go through the end of their life without love and compassion and it delivers a certain sadness, as our mortality is real. You do not take your boats and 4-wheelers. You do not take your life savings or favorite watch. You do not take your loved ones with you. You do not witness the hundreds who stood in line to comfort your family in your name. But to know that at the end of your life you made such an impact on others that you were surrounded by love is really real.

Just yesterday when cleaning up around our community pond with the neighbors, I imagined him there. Standing at the dam with a rake in his hand, telling us all how it should be done. Rallying the troops, directing traffic, cheering everybody on, telling jokes, laughing out loud with his head thrown back. Then, it occurred to me last night that I had inadvertently taken on that role. In my mind, it was me turning cartwheels down the cart path.

Caregivers:

Cousin Mark Brown whispered in my ear just after Bill's funeral, "You need to understand that you are going to feel two emotions at once that most in their lifetime will never have the opportunity to feel. Grief and Relief."

One may think (as I initially did) that the RELIEF he spoke to was intended for me. That I would feel relieved of the burden and responsibility. Not so. Mark Brown knew better. It did take me some time to completely grasp it, but what I know now is that Bill's cousin knew me well enough to know that I would eventually feel my husband's relief.

The encouragement from around the world to continue writing creates a battle within me. I remain in awe of the many sufferers and caregivers in search of answers or just a comrade when feeling sadness, guilt, exhaustion and loneliness. 

Then, such a turn of prose. Several years ago the angst in telling a daily story of what really goes on while living with Alzheimer's, I respectfully delivered a tale with comedic undertones.  My self-deprecating style and mantra of laughing at oneself presented a platform that we were completely unaware of. Yes, it is true the primary caregivers carry the load, however my 'brand of caregiving' never saw it that way. It has to be within you. Is it duty you feel or is it love? The long-suffering duty within me will continue to write with raw honesty but I now find the laughter hard to muster. Just as I referred so fondly and characteristically to him as Willie Bill and WB during the war, the day he left me he was Bill.

You can reach back in the articles to find it, but pay close attention to the turn in focus. Dutifully, I hope this in some way can assist others while providing care, fearing loss or feeling lonely. However, the paradigm shift created a soul searching, gut wrenching, mind boggling race to carry on. Now, it is selfishly less a story for comforting others than a document of emotions throughout this time in our lives. Something that our children can hold on to. If one can read through the tea leaves to find any measure of relief, then perhaps we have accomplished something else as well.

I will never forget Wade saying to me, "I will always love you for taking such good care of Dad."

It was a precious moment. Because it was always love. Not duty. But, to have no guilt at all would be unrealistic for our bunch. We have strong opinions, high expectations and above all we think and love deeply. So, go away guilt. Go away from me. Go away from our children.

Perhaps then at the end of the day it matters not the many times we told him, no matter the last words we spoke, we still wish we could have said goodbye.

Planning for a bittersweet day on Monday by staying busy and productive. I shall recognize his 67th birthday (another first) with memories of all the celebrations we had enjoyed so much together while acknowledging that we (as a family) did everything we knew to do. And that regardless his state of mind, I know without a doubt he knew it.

Happy Birthday, Honey. Perhaps gone from our lives physically, you will always be with us as we carry you in our hearts wherever we go, whatever we do, whomever we become.

My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley suffered from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia.

A Shitty Little Christmas

It was a DISASTER. I think any and everything I tried to do to overcome the dreaded first Christmas without WB resulted in a train wreck. With time to reflect and a several thousand mile roadtrip, it was anxiety and fear of the unknown driving my depression therefore perhaps exacerbating it for others. Even the most precious and well-intentioned messages from friends and family had me ramped up for the big explosion and I fully intended to thwart it. Mistake.

While trying so hard to create a new set of memories, I stepped right of into a pile of manure. Reminded me just now of the Renee Zellweger character in the movie Cold Mountain. "Ruby Tewes, you are a C-A-T-A-S-T-R-O-P-H-E!"

Watching OPRAH on OWN this morning and her interview with Eckhart Tolle was eye opening. Eckhart Tolle is a German-born Canadian resident, best known as the author of the The Power of Now and A New Earth, which were written in English. In 2011, he was listed by the Watkins Review as the most spiritually influential person in the world.

Then, a scan of Eckhart's website confirmed for me that I should reading his books. Front and center, he cites, "The realm of consciousness is much vaster than thought can grasp. When you no longer believe everything you think, you step out of thought and see clearly that the thinker is not who you are."

I rattled Kate out of bed earlier to share. Sleepy and now sure she was not so amused with my ah-ha moment, I am now thoroughly convinced she didn't process it quite the same. That said, I moved on to a discussion about dinner. Meatloaf, it is.

Living in the past is weighing me down. Anxious about the future is weighing me down. I've got to find a way to get in to the HERE and NOW. That was Eckhart's advise and it's definitly worth a shot. Obvious that I cannot change how I got here or life events before today, there is simply nothing that can be done to change them. That memories are just that. Memories. Just another reminder of what I've said many times before, my memories are personally mine as everyone else has their own. My feelings are mine, and mine alone.

Really need to start practicing what I preach. Then, visiting a Blog that I follow, The Christian Working Woman, I found this post  "Be still and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10). The fear in me has been so present for so long and this has really resulted in a real conflict for my children and I.

I do not fear any man or woman. I am not fearful of any legal issue, court battle, or death. I have never been afraid of anything that I can remember except a serpant of any kind. However, worrying about what comes next in our lives has substantially paralized me and I speak to this often. Give me anything and tradtion is, I can typically handle it. Therefore, this fear is in my mind. It's not physical, it's embedded in my soul.

For months and in an attempt to keep the FAITH and a constant search for any system, methodology or scripture - it just came around this morning at first cup and the landing on the right TV station. I cannot even accept my 'religious beliefs' without tapping into my own spiritual self.

How long have I co-mingled religion and spirituality? For as long as I can remember we've heard people say, "God spoke to me." And, for as long as I can remember, I've yearned for that. Oh how I've pondered, can they hear God speaking to them and I cannot?  

Coveting their experiences present so many questions for me; What does God's voice sound like? Is it gentle? It is strong? Does God have an accent? Will he speak to me in a way that I may understand? Am I too shut off with anger or guilt that he may not present himself at all? Is it because I like wine and I say 'SHIT' regularily? What is it? Why can I not hear God speak?

This notion may change within a short while, but is the goal to get to that place within yourself, a quiet and still place where you can mediate on God's word? Is that how God speaks to me/us?

Fortunately (or unfortunately) these issues are documented in many of my postings. Taking the time to look back on my thoughts and feelings of the past 9 months, one can easily see a vast array of emotions and stages of grief. From no grieving to angry grieving, to trying to quash the grief and then trying to undermine grief by completely ignoring and rerouting our traditional Christmas. At this stage in the process, one may typically suggest a doctor or stronger medication. My family, friends and anyone following this has got to be thinking, "This woman is CRAZY"!!!

True that. Still crazy with grief. Crazy with love for our children, grandchildren and extended family. Crazy still with a sense of responsibility for those less fortunate or needing assistance. Crazy hungry for an end to the pain yet crazy enough to keep it close. It's the memory.

Thinking that next year we will remember our SHITTY LITTLE CHRISTMAS, I will also remember that the friends and family who were reaching out to me knew that no matter how hard I tried to disguise it, disaster was iminent. Just as we will remember that our sabatical to Texas during the holiday was the first in over 20 years absent the big guy taking up all the room in the car. 

Be still.  

I will also remember that my girls and I had a delightful Christmas Eve sharing gifts of need and then a restful Christmas Day with great food, a fire in the fireplace and endless movies. As for today, I'm scribbling and scratching in an attempt to keep this in the here and now because it's all so heavy. It's just another memory. Be still, Rhonda. Keep reading. Keep studying. Keep praying. Keep the faith.  

Just be still.

My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley suffered from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia.

Infographic on Alzheimer's Disease

Sent to us by ActivCare. Thanks!

Does Caregiver Mentality Ever Change?

"You've been a caregiver all your life and that has got to change!" This was the text message I received from the youngest daughter last week.

On the heels of a post made about taking care of myself first as it will be impossible to take care of anybody or anything if I cannot find a balance AND understanding now more than ever that when you have tended to the needy with great zeal the result may be that you've created the needy....

I spoke about worry and the desire to be free from it. Faith, and how to attain it. Perhaps a message to myself to appreciate the endowment of my new freedom or just a good old fashioned pep talk. After reading so many great articles on caretaker experiences over the years, it is abundantly clear to me that if the caregiver is not taken care of, the caregiver cannot perform the best care.

So how is that going for me?

Insomuch as it sounds like a great plan, the crux lies in what transpires when in the throws of giving the care. There is no time or opportunity to seek therapy, attend group therapy, have your hair and nails done. There is no offensive position on the field.  

My caregiving experiences did not begin with Bill's illness, rather it began some 44 years ago when my brother was born. With so much time in the seat, it makes me wonder how one sheds the thick second skin after so many years and how hard will I search for others to care for?

A recent article from Gary LeBlanc noted, "Once the human heart takes on the difficult but worthy task (and identity) of becoming a caregiver, it will remain a caregiver."

If the caregiving experience over my lifetime now remands me to this identity and life mission, I must be better prepared. Should this plight be embedded so deep in my psyche, there may be little else to do but find some way to manage it.

I will never forget Bill's cousin whispering in my ear after the graveside service, "You are going to experience the most unique emotions; grief and relief."

He was right. Grieving for years at each loss in the steps of digression and relief for the end of his suffering. But, I found fulfillment in my abilities to make his life better. Just as it fulfills me to satisfy the request for a special meal or to plan an event - it completes me.

Saying out loud everyday, "I shall not be a caregiver, I will not be a caregiver, I do not want to be a caregiver" doesn't seem to be working. Upon reflection, more specific prayers are needed. Perhaps it's
that I know that I cannot be a significant and adequate caregiver at this time. That my plans to take care of myself first and worry less for others is unrealistic, but for a spell is in order. Just a vacation from the routine, as it never occurred to me until Kate said it...."throwing the caregiver mantra and way of life out the window may be impossible for me to do."


My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley suffered from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia. This is the best shot we have at documenting daily living.

Scotty McCreery - Christmas in Heaven (Lyrics)

The Caregiver - Worry and Prosperity

This world is crazy. Young people shooting babies, people shooting people in hospitals, low morals, drugs, theft - and this posting will surely be out of sequence, out of whack and bounce from thought to thought. I am flighty that way and my processes reflect it. It's the best that I can do today...

I'm a worry wart. Supposing I get that straight from my grandmother, she worried and worried and worried. She made her self sick worrying. My Uncle always said, "Some people just can't handle prosperity." WOW, I'm finally getting it.

Today is Sunday, the 9th of December...

This day last year would have started like this:

I would rise early, grab a cup of coffee and hit the keyboard. Typically, everyone would be home that should be home. The hustle and bustle wouldn't begin until Michelle was ready to leave for work. As always, Bill would sleep until he woke up. No cereal, oatmeal or pop-tarts for breakfast. On Sunday, I always cooked for him. He could always remember it was Sunday.

Things look different around here this year. The house is less decorated and in a much different style. Perhaps minimalist, where less is more. Keeping watch over me is a tall single cypress outside the bedroom window, lit up with the extra Christmas lights. Willie Splinter and I watch the lights dance on the wall until midnight.

A couple weeks ago and in fits and starts, I began cleaning out his closet. A nice surprise or two when going through the pockets, it is odd that I can remember nearly exactly where we were the last time he wore this or that. Separating into categories for quilts, the Abercrombie button downs here, the Hilfigers and Columbias there. I had forgotten he owned a tuxedo until I pulled it out.

By now he would be asking nearly constantly, "When are we leaving for Mikie's?"

Always anxious and excited about a road trip, I may take a different route this year.

The girls and I reminisced last night over turkey ring. I guess when the shock begins to wear off, one begins to remember better the terms of endearment, his expressions of surprise, the funny things he said, his take on the world.

Looking around, this house seems larger. Not that furnishings have been removed, but most definitely because he's not in it. Or is he? In every inch of this place, there is a memory.

Bill loved the holidays, the lights at Christmas, cooking, eating and seeing his family come together in our home. Today, I am thankful we accommodated his love of the banana pudding trifle, the chocolate covered cherries, the gathering together to make a fuss over him. He enjoyed Christmas morning as much as any child.
 

I wrote within weeks of his passing, "God gives us memories, that we may have roses in December."

It would have been so easy to shut down the holidays altogether this year. Even with a new twist on Christmas, we're finding it extremely difficult to come up with a new plan. Actually, the most comforting thing we've found is home.

Today marks exactly 8 months. On the 9th of April on Easter Sunday. Running my hands across his jackets brings comfort and even though I've left out a few things to wrap up in, my goal is to have most of his closet packed away by the New Year.

More aware now than ever the impressions you make and the legacy you leave, I ponder, "How will I be remembered and will there always be roses in December?" 

For us, I suspect you can count on it...

My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley, suffered from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia. This is the best shot we have at documenting daily living.

The Holidays and Italian Thanksgiving

Lord knows, I have no idea what to expect as we approach Thanksgiving and Christmas. Bill loved watching us decorate for Christmas. Actually, I remember lovingly our first Christmas together. He left on a Friday for the hunting camp and coming home, literally slammed on the breaks in front of the house as up on the hill, centered in the dining room window was a very large, very well lit and very beautiful Christmas tree.

Because of our family dynamic, having Christmas or Thanksgiving at our home on the actual day never rendered the entire bunch together. Kids visiting their mothers and fathers (natural) which finally left us the choice of celebrating early. So, Thanksgiving dinner with our bunch was generally the week before and nobody really wanted the traditional Thanksgiving fare. That is when Italian Thanksgiving began.

This year, the girls (Kate and Michelle) are absolutely against anything to eat that even resembles Thanksgiving fare. Only substituting a ham for a turkey on Easter, the meals are typically identical. (Remember, Bill passed not too long after our Easter meal April 9th)

His passing also represents new traditions. I am not cancelling our old ones, but this year feel that it is important for us to try and move forward. Still raw and fresh in our hearts is the emptiness of his absence, therefore I am confident that insisting upon keeping the status quo is a not so compassionate way to approach this. Hard enough will be navigating the memories without him, even harder will be trying to recreate something that will never be. It was because of him that those traditions began. It was he who enjoyed them so. He is gone. That tradition is gone.

So empty the chair he occupied, the space he commanded, the noise he created -

We have voted and agreed that the girls and I will be having Italian Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving Day. And, because I will not be cooking, we will revert back to a pre-Bill tradition and decorate the tree and house for Christmas - all weekend long!

The beautiful and thoughtfully collected glass ornaments we have amassed and used over the years will remain in their storage bins, safely marking time for another Christmas down the road. I'm even trading in the old candles for a new scent. The new natural burlap ribbon has been ordered and Tracey Cole and I will be applying the mercury glass look to any and everything we can find.

I cannot thank those enough for the invitations to spend Thanksgiving away from home. From South Carolina to Texas and many friends locally, the girls have said no thank-you to Thanksgiving fixins'. Nor do they want to spend Thanksgiving with another family. Hopeful that this will improve, I gratefully acquiesce.

My good friend Sonia Bertolone de Carillo has a locally famous restaurant named after it's founder (her father). Joe's Italian will be taking orders early for next week and I intend to get ours in today. The thought of Mamma's salad, lasagna, ravioli rose, cannoli, bread and dipping sauce, even a little tiramisu makes me smile.

After recently spending time with Giuseppe (Joe) Bertolone, I came away with a new respect for the guys who built and carried on their businesses, teaching and employing their children, building community with pride and quality. Joe educated me on his home place in Italy with great passion and I was able to assist him with navigating his facebook page. Overall, it was splendid. So perhaps it is not just about having Italian food for dinner, moreover, a tribute of sorts to Joe - the kind of man who goes to work every day, the man who takes care of his family. In sickness or in health because that is just what you do.

And then, perhaps I will throw in a purchased smoked Turkey for sandwiches and a Costco pecan pie. Perhaps.

As for Christmas, we have always traveled. Either by boat, plane, train or Suburban. Long trips, short trips, out of the country trips. Beach, Las Vegas, Texas, Utah, Colorado, Bahamas...

However this year, we are staying at home. And it will probably include the remainder of Joe's Italian menu items we did not get to sample on round one.


My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley suffers from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia. This is the best shot we have at documenting daily living.

Hi Rhonda,

Healthline recently finished putting together a collection of the best online Alzheimer's videos. You can find it at: http://healthline.com/health-slideshow/best-videos-alzheimers

We encourage you to share the list with friends, followers, and subscribers.

Thank you in advance for your consideration.

Warm Regards,
Tracy

Nursing Assistant Guide

Hello Rhonda,

I'm following up with you about the list NursingAssistantGuides.com published today of the Top 100
Senior Living Sites for Nurses. 

I emailed you last week to tell you you had been nominated for inclusion, and I'm happy to report that our site has been featured on the final list! You can view the whole thing here:      

http://nursingassistantguides.com/senior-living/

We made this list so that our readers, prospective nursing assistant students and current professionals, could learn more about the growing field of elder care and senior living. As the baby boomer generation ages into retirement, there will be a growing need for nurses and nursing assistants who are passionate about offering lifestyle improving care to elderly patients. Thank you for maintaining such a useful site, and congratulations! 

If you need assistance posting the badge, or have any questions or feedback, you can always email me. 

Best, 
Lauren

What does six months look like?

I miss him. That's pretty much all there is to say about it.

Many have asked me to write. The crux is, I have nothing to say. Yet.

Crazy thing is, we're getting picked up by all kinds of medical blogs and that didn't happen until he was gone. Bill was just the kind of man who would have appreciated that what he was going through - what we were going through - could somehow help someone else.

His clothes still hang in the closet, his fishing tackle still sits in the garage, his flashlights are still in the bedside table. Sundays are still a killer. Sundays were our special days. Bill left us on Easter Sunday.

So many things he would have enjoyed this week. Little Miss landed a great job and is close to landing a great internship. She's only 28 credit hours from graduating, but she has the resources to continue on - so that's the plan. All the grandies are growing and doing their thing. I finally painted some walls in the house and I'm sleeping in the bed.

Then, there are some things he would have worried over. Business issues still haunting us. His mother's affairs still aren't in order. A few of the kids are suffering. Willy Splinter is sleeping in the bed with me.

Finally pulled myself together enough to order a grave marker when we came upon the 6-month mark. It's curious now how time flies. It was Spring. Now it is Fall.

I asked my Tracey to accompany me to the cemetery on Sunday to plant the Cottonwood Tree and put out the Deer Dope. She videotaped the event with my iPhone and before it was over we were both sobbing. If I lay it out without editing it, we may all get to sobbing.

 That said, this is what (6) months looks like.

My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley suffered from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia. This is the best shot we have at documenting daily living.

Our diatribe made the Healthline Top 25...

Hi Rhonda,

Healthline editors recently published the final list of their favorite Alzheimers Dementia blogs and your blog made the list. You can find the complete list at: http://www.healthline.com/health-slideshow/best-alzheimers-dementia-blogs (in no particular order). We encourage you to share your status as one of the best blogs on the web with your friends, family, & followers.

Congrats & continue the great work!

Warm Regards,
Tracy

It's my road and mine alone...

I've really found it hard to come back to this place. A place where I found refuge so many times before. Perhaps like a sedative, it kept me sane and thwarted the 'come aparts'. If I could just get here, get it written down to something I could see, the feelings of helplessness seemed manageable.

Was I wrong to think that the need to seek shelter here would end with WB's passing?

How can it be that it's only been two months when it seems a life time ago that I heard his voice. His last audible and most frequent words and phrases, "Honey, Katie, I love you, thank-you, I'm so sorry" while the same carton of Blue Bell ice cream still sits in the freezer. Not sure I will ever feel the same about ice cream.

I pass through his closet that adjoins the laundry room many times a day with not much change except the ever rotating section of XXL Guy Harvey t-shirts that I wear to sleep in each night.

"Keeping myself busy with things to do, does not keep me from thinking of you."

Knowing that if I cry, the others will. If I go to bed and put the covers over my head, the others will. If I shut myself in and appear sad and beaten, the others will. If you see me and I appear happy, please know that it's my duty. When you've been required to be strong for so long - you may be broken, but you don't know it.

Gracious and thankful to have so many invitations for dinner, a movie, an out of town jaunt. I am not comfortable with much of that. If you're around too many people too often, the subject comes up. How could it not? I was him and he was me.

But, I am getting on with this quiet space. It makes it easy to talk with him and ask him questions. Tell him about our day. Let him know we are going to be okay. And, only wave to him on the days I do not actually drive through the cemetery entrance (just up the road).

Where I find comfort here, our baby has not. I see him here in every chair, curled up in the bed, the rubs on the door casing where he scratched his back. Believing this will change, I resisted the opportunities to evacuate and opted to stay with what we knew. Does the bear go back to the same cave? I am trusting and praying she will begin to appreciate the opportunity with less anxiety and find home was a place that was built for her.

I knew that life would go on, but like so many other things - until you live this, it's hard to describe. I thought I knew what it was like for people to lose their job, until we shut the business down and I didn't have anywhere to go to work. I thought I knew how the constant care for an Alzheimer's patient would be, I knew the inevitable would come, but foolishly thought I knew how I would handle him not being here.

No matter how much you hear, you don't hear it. And, you'll never pick up a book to read on loss until you've lost it. We are all so uniquely different that my advise today is that you just jump on the train, girdle yourself up for a rough passage and be prepared to ride it out.

Thanks, Dorothy Sander, for the inspiration. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dorothy-sander/the-caregivers-silent-bur_b_1570584.html


My name is Rhonda Brantley and my husband, Billy Ray Brantley suffered from Early Onset Alzheimer's Dementia. We lost him on Easter Sunday, 2012. This is the best shot we have at documenting daily living.

Angry?

With a previous post within just weeks of WB's passing, my OCD self began to set out my own grieving plan. So, who's the big donkey now?  I've always been able to appreciate my faults with humorous deprecation, however this is no laughing matter.

Here they are...and unfortunately, they're coming in pairs -

1. SHOCK & DENIAL-
You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. You may deny the reality of the loss at some level, in order to avoid the pain. Shock provides emotional protection from being overwhelmed all at once. This may last for weeks.

2. PAIN & GUILT-
As the shock wears off, it is replaced with the suffering of unbelievable pain. Although excruciating and almost unbearable, it is important that you experience the pain fully, and not hide it, avoid it or escape from it with alcohol or drugs. You may have guilty feelings or remorse over things you did or didn't do with your loved one. Life feels chaotic and scary during this phase.

3. ANGER & BARGAINING-
Frustration gives way to anger, and you may lash out and lay unwarranted blame for the death on someone else. Please try to control this, as permanent damage to your relationships may result. This is a time for the release of bottled up emotion. You may rail against fate, questioning "Why me?" You may also try to bargain in vain with the powers that be for a way out of your despair ("I will never drink again if you just bring him back")

4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS-
Just when your friends may think you should be getting on with your life, a long period of sad reflection will likely overtake you. This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be "talked out of it" by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving. During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair.

5. THE UPWARD TURN-
As you start to adjust to life without your dear one, your life becomes a little calmer and more organized. Your physical symptoms lessen, and your "depression" begins to lift slightly.

6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH-
As you become more functional, your mind starts working again, and you will find yourself seeking realistic solutions to problems posed by life without your loved one. You will start to work on practical and financial problems and reconstructing yourself and your life without him or her.

7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE-
During this, the last of the seven stages in this grief model, you learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. Acceptance does not necessarily mean instant happiness. Given the pain and turmoil you have experienced, you can never return to the carefree, untroubled YOU that existed before this tragedy. But you will find a way forward. You will start to look forward and actually plan things for the future. Eventually, you will be able to think about your lost loved one without pain; sadness, yes, but the wrenching pain will be gone. You will once again anticipate some good times to come, and yes, even find joy again in the experience of living.

ANGER. Yep, there it is. I'm ANGRY. And, it only took a facebook post from a friend this morning to wake me up and force me to realize what was going on. So, thank-you Jim Mason for this...

Not only am I angry now for the events of the past few weeks, there is an anger surfacing that I have been quelling for years. Suspecting the suppression is over and I'm beginning to erupt like Mount St. Helens, this is me looking in the mirror.

And, it looks like it might just take some counseling to keep this ANGRY BITCH from going postal.