my story?

“Here dad, write the story of your life.”

One of my daughters once gave me a big blank book with that message (or one something like it) on the fly leaf.

My mother had done the same thing with my grandfather. He was in his early 60’s, had just had a heart attack, and was bored. From that came his autobiography, a smallish but intriguing volume. Interestingly grandpa lived to be 98 a long long time after his heart attack.

I began writing in the book with great vigor, not knowing where to start, and blundered on -- in quick, hard to read cursive. It was not too long before I flamed out. Right now I am not sure where that book is. Sorry Arline.

This blog began as a record of my involvement with Miriam and her Alzheimer’s. It was a place I could vent and scream if I choose, and tell stories about her and us otherwise.

It began at the suggestion of my young friend Stefanie, who helped set it up and taught me how to enter pictures and text. (I still have not figured out all of the details, and it will likely stay that way).

But Miriam’s brand of AD is a boring one (at least for now). In the 9 years since she was diagnosed she has digressed to somewhere in the middle stages of this disease. She can still do a lot of things and tasks, but the list slowly is decreasing.

As she reminds me once in a while (often with the wrong details), there is no real proof that she has Alzheimer’s disease. I read that there are around 80 variations of dementia, the umbrella name for this class of diseases. Which one Miriam has is not of much concern to me. Something is not right, and it really matters little what title you put on it, and Alzheimer’s is as good as anything.

But this has morphed into the story of my life, and my head, with emphasis on our life with AD. It is becoming the story of my life and our life. I go back in my memory sometimes and talk about other chapters in our story. Ours has not been an exciting life, as some count it. It has been full of love and caring and abundant good food and mostly fun times together.

December 7 has a lot of meaning to me. I’ll write on that day about what it means, and I’ll meander wherever my thoughts go. It will be mostly the musings of an old man, and should be given equal amounts of humor and long suffering!

Don’t bother with the seat belt, it will probably be a boring ride!