A Scottish Memory Loss Memoir  

Why all people should take PREMEMLO with Phosphatidyl serine (PS) and Phosphatidyl choline (PC) for a Better Memory

Stop Brain-Damage from Stroke & Avoid Alzheimer's at the Same Time

Cell Phone Dangers

Learning About Memory Loss Through Autism's Lessons

Terminology of Memory Loss: Glossary &  The Most Severe Type of Memory Loss

Age Related Memory Loss Problems

Enjoy & thank you! 

Dr Jill

QUOTE OF THE WEEK
Viktor E. Frankl
From "Man's Search for Meaning"

"When a man finds that it is his destiny to suffer, he will have to accept his suffering as his task: his single and unique task. He will have to acknowledge the fact that even in suffering he is unique and alone in the universe. No one can relieve him or suffer in his place. His unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden."

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Hello, everyone--

Perhaps this true story will inspire but also will offer motivation to continue preventing memory loss in yourself and your family . . .

My sister-in-law, Jeanine Joyce, has been helping both her parents through their mid and final stages of Alzheimer's. Her efforts have been absolutely exemplary. Perhaps she doesn't realize the influence she is having on the rest of the family, but I have never witnessed anyone so incredibly inspirational, practical, and brave.

For the longest time, Jeanine's parents were in Florida while she was in the North East U.S. As their Alzheimer's became apparent, Jeanine began to visit them more and more in the home she finally chose for them when they could no longer be alone. Jeanine didn't just choose any home. She investigated. She researched. Then she picked a top-notch place with the highest reputation and credentials in the Alzheimer's industry. (I won't name them; I'm not looking for lawsuits here).

Nonetheless, when she or her siblings would visit, they would find nothing done properly for her parents. She was very frustrated as her expectations for the facility were so much higher. Finally, she made the decision she wanted to move them back up North near her home so she could visit them daily.

First of all, the process she had to go through to do this was amazing. But since they have been near her home, she has been able to go to the facility and visit them daily. She says, even at that, she must still tell the staff repeatedly the simplest things they should already be doing, like--to turn her mother over regularly in order to prevent bed sores. Or things like-- Would they please give her mom a bib rather than allow her to drip all over her clothes? She often finds her parents not cared for as she hoped even at the facility where they know Jeanine will be coming for a daily visit.

When she hangs out with her parents and they ask her what's up at home, she'll often include them in simple things like talk about her upcoming grocery store trip. She'll ask them to do routine things they always did-- like help her prepare her grocery list. She realizes the neglect of daily chores and activities is adding to their dull minds.

She also takes games with her to their bedside and they play and chat. Sometimes she plays simple concentration games or card games, particularly with matching or naming activities.

When their food comes, she'll talk to them about things written on their milk cartons, etc. They'll discuss whether a word is spelled properly on the carton or not and try to remember how they recall it was spelled. This is easy when someone actually takes the time to hang out awhile and just let normal conversations and discussions happen.

Jeanine's parents even recognize her better than they did before she moved them and she was unable to spend time with them because they were in different states.

Her mother used to say she didn't like it where they were in Florida. Now her mother is saying, "I like it here." So Jeanine knows the care has definitely improved.

For Jeanine, this change and bringing her parents to her home area is about their dignity and her peace of mind. She knows her mother wouldn't intentionally walk around wearing a sloppy shirt with spills all over it. Now she can help to make sure that's not the way she is living.

She also knows that when one of them dies the other one probably won't be far behind. Slowly, she watches and each day she realizes she will soon need to let go. Her mother is weakening. Her father is a bit stronger. But she is there for both of them.

For Jeanine, and all of you out there with relatives, spouses, parents or friends suffering from something like final stage Alzheimer's, what Jeanine has done will give her and her siblings peace for many years to come.

This may be my opinion, but I believe it is right to do the responsible, dignified thing and be there for those who were there for you when you were the weak one if it is at all possible. If not, somehow, we should at least be sure that our loved ones are cared for as we would attempt to care for them.

Read the opinion of psychiatrist Victor Frankl quoted regarding his experiences dealing with those suffering in the prison camps of Germany:

"What was really needed was a fundamental change in our attitude toward life. We had to learn ourselves, and furthermore, we had to teach the despairing men that it did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life daily and hourly. Our answer must consist not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual."

Frankl goes on to say that our unique opportunities lie in the way we each bear our burdens. Ah, yes. There it is again. The human challenge lies in choosing to respond well no matter how much we hurt

E-Mail: drjjoyce@att.net
http://www.thememorydoc.com or
http://www.dontforgetmemoryloss.com
Phone: 561-200-9083

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Volume 1, Issue 5            

* Editor's Note

* A Scottish Memory Loss Memoir from Betty Santerre and Her      Daughter Jeanine Joyce 

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Dear Friends,

This past week, my sister-in-law, Jeanine Joyce, and her mom, Betty Santerre, sent me this beautiful poem:

* A Scottish Memory Loss Memoir from Betty Santerre and Her Daughter, Jeanine Joyce

Thought you'd all be interested in reading this and maybe pass it on . . . hugs,

jeanine and mom

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When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed she had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Ireland.

The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health.

A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet.

So if you judge those with dementia and assume they have nothing left to offer inside--remember this. While this little woman sat looking quite lost in her situation and bereft of her abilities--she composed this lovely poem:

               Crabby Old Woman

            What do you see, nurses?

            What do you see?

            What are you thinking

            When you're looking at me?

            A crabby old woman,

            Not very wise,

            Uncertain of habit,

            With faraway eyes?

            Who dribbles her food

            And makes no reply

            When you say in a loud voice,

            "I do wish you'd try!"

            Who seems not to notice

            The things that you do,

            And forever is losing

            A stocking or shoe?

            Who, resisting or not,

            Lets you do as you will,

            With bathing and feeding,

            The long day to fill?

            Is that what you're thinking?

            Is that what you see?

            Then open your eyes, nurse,

            You're not looking at me.

            I'll tell you who I am

            As I sit here so still,

            As I do at your bidding,

            As I eat at your will.

            I'm a small child of ten

            With a father and mother,

            Brothers and sisters,

            Who love one another.

            A young girl of sixteen

            With wings on her feet

            Dreaming that soon now

            A lover she'll meet.

            A bride soon at twenty,

            My heart gives a leap,

            Remembering the vows

            That I promised to keep

            At twenty-five now,

            I have young of my own,

            Who need me to guide

            And a secure happy home.

            A woman of thirty,

            My young now grown fast,

            Bound to each other

            With ties that should last.

            At forty, my young sons

            Have grown and are gone,

            But my man's beside me

            To see I don't mourn.

            At fifty once more,

            Babies play round my knee,

            Again we know children,

            My loved one and me.

            Dark days are upon me,

            My husband is dead,

            I look at the future,

            I shudder with dread.

            For my young are all rearing

            Young of their own,

            And I think of the years

            And the love that I've known.

            I'm now an old woman

            And nature is cruel;

            'Tis jest to make old age

            Look like a fool.

            The body, it crumbles,

            Grace and vigor depart,

            There is now a stone

            Where I once had a heart.

            But inside this old carcass

            A young girl still dwells,

            And now and again,

            My battered heart swells.

            I remember the joys,

            I remember the pain,

            And I'm loving and living

            Life over again.

            I think of the years

            All too few, gone too fast,

            And accept the stark fact

            That nothing can last.

            So open your eyes, people,

            Open and see,

            Not a crabby old woman;

                 Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within . . .   we may, one day, be there as well!

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How touching. . .

Truth being told is sometimes hard to receive, but even harder to speak. I'm grateful for this little story and poem from Jeanine and her mom Betty.

Thank you so much for sharing with all of us at this difficult time.

Blessings to you, your mom, your ten brothers and sisters and your dad, Rolland, who is also struggling with Alzheimer's.

What an amazing legacy Betty and Rolland leave behind in all of you! You have all been a great testimony of caring.

Your family is a wonderful example for all of us to see.

Gratefully,

Dr. Jill

E-Mail: drjjoyce@att.net 
http://www.thememorydoc.com or
http://www.dontforgetmemoryloss.com

Phone: 1-561-200-9083