Don’t Blink

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I can no longer afford to blink.

No, it is not because of the recent increase in the price of contact lens solution.

Blinking is one of those unconscious processes our bodies do that often go unnoticed.  It keeps the eye moist and blinking protects the eye from foreign bodies (as long as they are smaller than a stick or a finger).

A blink takes about a tenth of a second, but when you blink you miss so much. Things happen so fast these days.

I blinked, and July was gone. I blinked, and summer was gone.  I blinked, and so much of my wife Terry was gone.

Since Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, so many things that she not only could do, but could do well, are gone.

The most recent one, which may seem trivial in the larger scope of things, hit me hard. Terry forgot how to play tennis.

When I met Terry in the late 1970s she was this spunky little tennis player in her sophomore year of college. She was the number one singles player on the college varsity team all four of her years, and was a ‘local legend’ at the city park tennis courts, where she won numerous city titles.

In basketball, they are called ‘gym rats.’  The kid who is always dribbling a basketball, hanging around the gym. I’m not sure what they call tennis bums…oh, wait a minute. I guess they call them ‘tennis bums.’

Terry was never a bum (still has a nice one though) but she was a dedicated tennis player, even though she was never professionally trained. I guess you could say she was a self-taught tennis bum.

Thanks to the eternal generosity of my brother-in-law and sister-in-law I was able to take Terry and our youngest daughter and her boyfriend and their dog to the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia for a week in our own private chalet in the Shenandoah Valley.

Terry and I were celebrating our 33^rd anniversary while the kids were celebrating their fourth. Not sure how old the dog is but he seemed to have a good time.  All five of us did.

Part of the package was access to a swimming pool and a tennis court, so we brought our rackets and bathing suits, and used them.

I used to play in a tennis league back when I had knees, but have not played since I became more and more immobile. Terry hit the tennis ball around with our daughter a year or two ago, and it was like riding a bike.

Last week when the four of us were hitting the tennis ball around, Terry’s bike needed training wheels.  Terry forgot how to play tennis. 

When it was her turn to hit the ball that she had in her pocket she purposely hit the ball down on her side of the net, like she was serving in ping pong. Seeing that was probably what it was like for Glen Campbell’s family when he recently forgot how to play the guitar.

As we hit the ball around more and more it all came back to Terry and she began to look more and more like someone who was once a great player. But that little reminder of her cognitive impairment jabbed a sharp dagger of reality into my vacation mode.

I try to help Terry write in her memory book each day, to help her think about what happened that day and also for something for her to read periodically to help her remember current events. It has gotten to the point where she cannot write in the book without help. I have to ask her about her day, and when she answers I need to tell her to write that down, almost like I am dictating it to her.

Lately, Terry’s spelling, something that was always a strong suit of hers, is declining rapidly. Today she had trouble spelling the name John and Rhode Island (her home state).

A year ago Terry was still driving. Now, Terry cannot be left alone unless she is home, and even there for less than a day.

Where did that last year go?  Where did my best friend and partner go? I must have blinked.

Of course I’ve known all along that Terry’s condition was going to continue to decline. Knowing it and dealing with it are two different things.

That is one of the reasons I wanted to share our recent vacation with our daughter and her boyfriend. It has been 16 months since the doctors told us it was ‘Bucket List’ time.  I want Terry to be checking off things on that list with as many members of the family as possible, as often as possible. As soon as possible.

Before I blink again.

Until next time, do as Kenny Chesney sings:

“Best start putting first things first. 'Cause when your hourglass runs out of sand you can’t flip it over and start again. Take every breathe God gives you for what it’s worth. Don’t Blink.”

Bud