Cross to Bear

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and like most people I have a cross to bear.

I have a heavy burden, heavy responsibility, a problem that I must cope with. A cross to bear.

Ever since my wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, people have come up to me, written me or called me with their condolences. I have often responded to them by saying “We all have our crosses to bear.” 

And that’s true. We all have our problems.

The term “a cross to bear” obviously comes from the fact that Jesus had to carry the very cross he would eventually die on all the way up to the hill at Calvary which was miles away. The Stations of the Cross are based on it.

When I was little and I saw the INRI on the top of the crucifix I thought Jesus might have died IN Rhode Island, not knowing INRI meant Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum. (Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews for those of you who didn’t take Latin).

I am reminded of that this Holy Week as Good Friday and Easter Sunday are approaching.

Everyone has a burden that they must cope with in their lives. Some burdens seem harsher than others. Dragging a tree for miles up a hill so people can nail you to it and then crucify you on it makes most problems we have seem not so bad, don’t you think?

There is a common belief, one that I used to support, that goes something like this:  If you formed a circle of people, and everyone making up the circle could take their worst problem and put it in the middle, and then go around the circle and everyone had to pick one problem to have, most people, seeing what others have to deal with, would take their own problem back.

I used to believe that. I’m not so sure anymore. If I put into the middle of the circle the fact that my wife, my best friend, my partner, has Alzheimer’s, I can’t imagine selecting that from the list of other problems when it was my turn to pick.

To do that I’d have to be put in a circle with a pretty down-on-their-luck crowd. With my luck Jesus Himself would be in that circle. 

No, I couldn’t take His problem.

And speaking of Good Friday and Easter approaching, so is Passover. That is someone else who would probably end up in my circle, someone who did not put blood on their door and lost their first born male to the Angel of Death.

No, I couldn’t take his problem.

There would probably even be a dog in that circle, a flea-bitten mutt that was blind in one eye, missing half an ear, had just three legs, was accidently neutered and had a torn-off tail. Goes by the name Lucky.

We’re getting closer to problems I would take over mine.

There would have to be someone in that circle I could switch with. I can’t imagine too many problems I would pass up for taking my own back. It is a burden I would not place on anyone.

Seeing your partner, your best friend, slowly lose more and more of her independence in front of your eyes is such a helpless feeling. It is scary, it is sad, it is frustrating.

The only thing that has gotten me through this first year is the fact that Terry is so upbeat. She does not get scared, she does not get sad, and she does not get frustrated. She even has a sense of humor about it, saying with a laugh to people when she has a problem doing something “I’m demented.”

Which brings me back to that damned circle.

What if Terry was in my circle? What if she threw being “demented”  into the middle?  Which problem would I take, mine of being a caregiver and seeing my best friend go through this, or go through it myself as an Alzheimer’s victim?

My first instinct was the same as if I was thinking of my kids. When they were little I’d wish I could suffer their pain for them when they needed stitches or broke a wrist or needed surgery. I would switch places with them in a second if I could have.

But if I switched places with Terry, switched our problems in that circle, she would have to be my caregiver. (She would also have to be the breadwinner, something she has never been. She has always worked, but mostly less than 40 hours a week so she could be there for the kids.)

Now she would have to be there for me. I don’t know if I would want her to be in that situation.

Because right now Terry is handling her Alzheimer’s better than I am. It doesn’t seem to get to her the way it sometimes gets to me. She seems happier to me than I am.

There were no truer words ever spoken than : “Happy wife, happy life.”

As this horrible disease progresses, I might feel differently about what problem I would take out of that circle. My circle that probably would also have Job in it as well. (that’s pronounced jobe for you pagans out there, as in ‘patience of Job’ because of all of the troubles beset upon him in the Bible).

So as Good Friday, Passover and Eastern Sunday arrive, I will try to put my problems and those of my best friend Terry in perspective with others, and see how others handle their problems.

Terry is handling them better than I am. Maybe, probably, others are too. What would Jesus do? What would my Terry do?

What am I going to do?

Until next time, Happy Easter

Bud

Extra Innings

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I like extra innings.

One of baseball’s most beloved personalities passed away recently, Ernie Banks.  Mr. Cub was famous for saying “It’s a great day for a ball game. Let’s play two,” because of his love for playing the game.

Baseball doesn’t play many doubleheaders anymore but I am a big fan of extra inning games.

Now that I no longer umpire, that is.

When I was an umpire, I would pride myself on how fast the game would finish. Especially on hot summer days. I told (warned)  the 18 and 19-year old American Legion batters when I umpired that the higher the temperature, the bigger the strike zone.

Now, as a baseball fan, I cannot get enough of America’s Pastime.  I love it when the game goes longer than expected.

When I was a baseball player in college I loved extra innings on a more personal level.

I was a decent ball player growing up, earning all-star honors at ages 8, 9, 12, 14, 15 and 16. I was the leading hitter on the high school junior varsity team as a sophomore and again on the varsity when I batted clean-up my senior year.

When I moved on to Miami and played on the college team, I learned firsthand what the ‘Peter Principle’ was all about. You know, the business concept about being promoted, based on how well you performed your previous job. It happens over and over up the cooperate chain until you finally reach the level of  incompetence.

I used to tell my friends that there was only one reason why my name in the batting order was usually in the ninth spot.  It was because there wasn’t a tenth spot.

I spent a lot of time on the bench in college. Even when my name was in the lineup, I spent time on the bench because the majority of my collegiate at bats were as the designated hitter.

They didn’t like to let me use a glove, and when they did it was a first baseman’s mitt.  When I played the field I was like Michael Jackson circa 1983, wearing a glove for no apparent reason.

I grew up as a catcher but was not a good enough receiver for the college level. But I could swing the bat. Sometimes I’d hit something. That was my approach at the plate, my batting philosophy, “Swing hard in case you hit it.”

The reason why I liked extra innings, especially when I was not in the lineup, was because the longer the game went on, the better chance I had of finally getting into the game. If the other team brings a lefty in to pitch in relief, I’m a right-handed hitter (using the term hitter loosely, batter might be more accurate) so my ‘mad skills’ may be called upon.

Speaking of ‘mad skills’, my college dorm days went extra innings.  After graduating from college I worked at a college in Rhode Island for three years, the first year living in the dorms as a graduate assistant.

My wife Terry, who was on the tennis team at the college, grew up in Pawtucket, RI and lived just a few blocks from McCoy Stadium, the home field of the Pawtucket Red Sox.  The Paw Sox where the Boston Red Sox highest minor league team, the AAA team that played in the International League.

Terry was a big Red Sox fan so we went to a few Paw Sox games in my three years up there. In my final year living in Rhody, I took Terry to a game on a cold New England spring day in mid-April.

The ’81 Paw Sox were hosting the Rochester Red Wings, the AAA team in the Baltimore Orioles organization, who came to the Ocean State with this ‘five-tool’ hot-shot prospect by the name of Cal Ripken, Jr.

Terry and I went to the game but it was so cold that when the game went into extra innings we left. Plus it was getting late. I brought Terry home late once before and learned my lesson the hard way. I never did that again.

Little did Terry and I know that the game that we just left would go on until 4am before they finally stopped it, still tied after 32 innings.  What an excuse I could have had!!!

After national attention due to the record length of the contest, they finished the game two months later in front of a sellout crowd that did not include me and Terry. Our tickets were dropped in the McCoy Stadium parking lot sometime late in that April night. Just as well. I think the continued game lasted just one inning.  But it was an extra one.

I am now a big fan of extra innings for other reasons.

One’s life time can be broken up easily into nine innings, nine decades.

Terry was 54 years old when she was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease last year, so in my calculations she is in the top of the fifth inning. I’m in the bottom of the fifth of a nine-inning game.

The average life expectancy is close to 80 years old. Fifty years ago it was 60. Forty years from now it is going to be 100. That has been my plan since day one, to live to 100. That’s 10 innings.  Extra innings.

But I’m worried about Terry as we get into the late innings.

For 35 years Terry and I dreamed of growing old together, going into extra innings. Now I am worried we won’t even get a complete game.

For a nine-inning game to be considered a complete game, the losing team has to bat five times.

Terry has not completed her fifth at bat yet, her fifth inning. This game can’t be called yet!

When I was younger I wanted extra innings. I was greedy. Now all I want is a complete game.

Until next time, Terry will still be playing. I’ll be spending more time on the bench, cheering her on.

Bud

Might as Well Face it I’m Addicted to Love

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I am a wifeaholic.

I have come to realize that I am addicted to my wife Terry.

Terry and I have been married for almost 33 years now and my feelings for her have never been stronger.  And we see more of each other now than we ever have.

My job involves working weekends and many nights. This time of year I work 70 hours a week. When Terry and I were first married we used to tell people that my work schedule was the reason why we never fight, because we never see each other long enough to fight.

Before Terry and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary we already had two kids (before we realized what was causing it), so we never really spent that much time together as a couple. We became parents.

When the kids were little we used to schedule our time off at different times so one of us was always available to watch the kids, take them to school or practice or anywhere they needed to go.  That added to our time apart.

But now that the kids are grown and self-sufficient, we are together so much more. I began taking my summer vacation days when Terry was NOT working so we could spend them together. We were enjoying being ‘empty-nesters.’

Since Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, we have come to realize how precious our time is.  So now Terry and I are always together.  Now, the only night I go out with my friends is the night that Terry has her Bible Study.

My work involves making road trips, especially during the winter months. Now that the kids are grown Terry takes the road trips with me, and we have a great time. It is still work for me but the travel time to and from the job is time spent together.  And we both love it.

My office is close to 20 miles away from home and it takes almost 30 minutes to make the commute.  Lately I have been taking longer lunches and going home to spend midday with Terry. In my mind, my 70-hour work week justifies taking a two-hour lunch time. Plus I have my lap top at home so I can answer e-mails and do some work while I am home with Terry during the day.

At first I was going home during the day and staying home in the evenings to care for Terry. To keep her company and make sure she doesn’t burn the house down or forget to eat.

But I have come to realize that I am not just doing it for her, but for me too. When I am at work I miss her. I miss being with her. In the evenings our life would appear pretty dull; watching TV or listening to music, putting together a jigsaw puzzle or playing scrabble.  But it isn’t dull or boring, not at all. Because it doesn’t matter what we are doing, as long as we do it together.

I am afraid I am addicted.

This past Thanksgiving I was away from home for over a week. That is when I first realized that I had a problem. I used to try to kid myself, saying that I could give up spending so much time with her if I had to. That I didn’t NEED to be with her, I just LIKED being with her.

I was living in denial.

So now that I have admitted that I have an addiction, I am not sure what to do about it. I don’t think there are any meetings I can go to. Even if there were, I wouldn’t go to them unless they were on the night Terry has her Bible Study.

No, I just have to learn to live with my addiction.

When Terry was first diagnosed with EOAD I did a lot of research about what was happening to her brain, with the build-up of plaques, with her hippocampus going on the fritz. Now I am looking into what is happening to my brain.

Dopamine is the reward system of the brain. It plays a role in regulating feelings of pleasure. My spending time with Terry seems to heighten my dopaminergic activity. The time I spend with her results in repeated release of high amounts of dopaminergic activity, which in turn affects the reward pathway directly through heightened dopamine receptor activation.

In other words, I can’t get enough of her.

I have a compulsion to be with her. It is a behavioral addiction, which often can have the same symptoms as drug addiction and alcoholism.  That’s because being with Terry alters my mood or emotional state by creating a euphoric feeling.  The euphoria is the result of serotonin or adrenalin released in my brain when I am with her. My brain then tries to recreate this high despite any negative consequences related to it. Fortunately, there have not been any negative consequences yet.

They say that if you perform an addictive activity on a regular basis, you may form a tolerance to the euphoric state that results. That means that you will have to engage in the activity more often or increase the intensity of the activity so that you can achieve the desired effect.

Bingo!

That is why I need to be with Terry so much.  And all these years I thought it was Terry who had to build up a tolerance to me and my behavior.

To paraphrase Robert Palmer:

Your lights are on, but you’re not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes,

More time with Terry, is what it takes

I might as well face it, I’m addicted to Terry.

To paraphrase Jimmy Buffett in a Zac Brown song:

Spending time with Terry is my only medication

Wishing my condition ain’t ever gonna go away.

Until next time, there’s no doubt, I’m in deep. Knee deep.

Bud