Team Effort

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I have always enjoyed being on a team. The comradery.  The sharing of the thrill of victory.  Having someone else to blame for the agony of defeat.

I grew up playing sports and have been on too many teams to count, whether it was Little League during the summer or bowling during the winter. I played on high school and college varsity teams, intramural teams and even as an adult on football and tennis teams.

I always liked playing tennis, an individual sport, but it was more fun, for me, being in a doubles league.

And for the past 38 years since graduating I have worked with college athletic teams, sharing with them their highs and lows.

Now I am part of another team, a team of caregivers for my wife Terry, who is in the middle stages of Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

For the first two years or so after Terry was diagnosed I felt it was my job, my responsibility, to be the caregiver. Terry was my wife, my partner, to love and cherish in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, in good times and bad. Our kids had their own lives to live and I didn’t want to burden them with such a daunting task.

Despite all I read about how you shouldn’t try to handle this caregiving thing on your own, I knew I wanted to do it. What I didn’t know is that I couldn’t do it.  Not by myself. Not anymore, now that Terry’s condition has worsened to the point where there is very little she can do without guidance, without help.

Alzheimer’s.org says that being a caregiver for someone in the middle stages requires flexibility and patience, two virtues that I have never been accused of having much of. It says to take family and friends up on offers to help.  But I was resistant.

Until now.

Terry and I have been blessed with a great family, great kids, and great friends, who all want to help. And I have finally realized I need their help. Terry needs their help.

A large majority of caregivers are sons and daughters, taking care of their parent. But that is because a large majority of Alzheimer’s patients are elderly and many do not have a spouse anymore or at least a spouse who can take care of them.  So the child has to step up.

But my Terry is far from elderly, still in her mid-50s. (Although when I was in Little League someone in their 50s seemed elderly to me.)

Terry and I have been ‘empty nesters’ for some time now. Even when our youngest was still living at home it was only during the summer, since she was living on campus during the school year.

The kids always came home to visit, more so once they learned of their mother’s situation, but unless I had to go out of town for work it was more just to visit than to actually help with the caregiving.

But now they are helping in that manner. They have joined the team. Our youngest lives walking distance to where I work, so now if I have to cover a game in the evening Terry can visit with her.

Our oldest lives an hour or so away but continues to come home at least once a week to help out.

This weekend our son is moving back in with us. He gave up a lot to do it. But he wanted to help with the caregiving. He wanted to join the team, on a full-time basis.

I have always liked being on a team. This is a team that I wish did not have to exist, but it does. So now I am happy that I am not alone. I am not playing singles anymore; I have a doubles partner living at home. I have teammates who I can take Terry to or who can come home at the drop of a hat to help when needed.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who probably led his teams to more wins than anyone who ever played a sport (71 consecutive wins in high school, three national championships in college, six world championships in the NBA), once said “One man can be a crucial ingredient on a team, but one man cannot make a team.”

I am finding that out now. I always liked having teammates. Now I need teammates.

Until next time, I will be learning how to be patient and flexible, with help from my teammates.

Bud

Child Support

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and even though I have never been divorced, I have grown to know a lot about child support.

Although, in my case, it is my children who are supporting me. Supporting my wife and me. Not financially, but spiritually, emotionally, even physically.

Back in 2013 our oldest daughter had a pretty good gig going, living in a mansion in a gated community in Augusta, Georgia with a pool outside and 30 foot ceilings inside. I never asked her, but she decided on her own to give it up and come home to live with her parents once she found out that there was something seriously wrong with her mother.

She eventually realized I had this ‘caregiver thing’ down and has moved on with her life and now lives an hour from us but comes home every weekend to visit and often makes us a great meal.

Our youngest, pursuing her second and third degrees and career in nutrition while working, lives 30 minutes from us and comes home as often as her busy schedule allows to visit her mother and cooks us a nutritious meal.

Both of our daughters have been in serious relationships for years now and live with their partners. I would say that both of their partners are happy people, but I wouldn’t say they were gay.

I like the term partner, because, after all, that is what a relationship is all about, a partnership. Two heads are better than one.  Humans need to have someone to share things with, to bounce ideas off of.  Lennon had McCartney. Lewis had Clark. Rocky had Bullwinkle.

In discussing my daughters’ partners, the term ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t seem important enough. It doesn’t carry enough weight. “Significant Other” sounds like I need to be sticking out my pinky finger when I say it while looking at the ceiling and using a slightly British accent.

No, I like the word partner, no matter what it might infer about a relationship.

And because of their relationships, their addresses and their schedules, it is impossible for our daughters to help on a daily basis. To help me be the caregiver of their mother, who is in the middle stage of Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

Enter the middle child, the boy, now the man.

Our son received a well-deserved promotion at work and moved to Washington, D.C. recently.  He was living about 45 minutes away from us and coming home often, but is now three hours away.

Living alone in D.C. gave him time to think and he began to change his priorities. He recently came to realize that there are more important things in life.

He also realized that summer is coming to an end, and so is my light work schedule. Come fall I am back to 60 hours a week, seven days a week. In the winter it goes up to 70 hours a week. My wife now needs more help than what someone working 60 or 70 hours a week can provide.

I would never dream of asking him to do so, but our son is giving up his new job and company car and expense account and his career with a Fortune Global 500 company that ranks in the top five in highest revenue generating companies in the U.S., to come home and live with his parents.

But not for the same reason many millennials do. He is coming home to help me be a caregiver. And he is bringing his assistance dog with him.

Our daughters are in relationships, living their own lives now.  Our son has had more relationships than his two sisters combined, but is also someone who has always known what he wants, and what he doesn’t want.  And even though he has seriously dated several outstanding young women, he has not yet found a partner.

So now I am going to have a partner. My wife was my partner before Alzheimer’s stole that from us. Now I will have a partner in my caregiving for her.  I never asked for one. I never wanted one. But the truth is, I am starting to need one. My wife needs me to have one.

My wife is very lucky to have three great kids. In turn each one is helping me take care of her.

I’m lucky to have such great kids. Such great Child Support.

Until next time, hope you have the support you need, from a partner or a child.

Bud