Let it Snow

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I am enjoying a snow day more than I have since I was a kid going sledding on a school day.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but staying home from work is so delightful. And since we have no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

We were expecting a lot of snow yesterday, last night and this morning, enough to close the schools and most places of business.

Today’s snow day could not have come at a better time. 

There have been quite a few times in the past where my place of work was closed due to snow but, because of my job, I still had to go in and work. This week that is not the case. I was able to get everything done on Monday that I had to get done early this week, and other work that has to be done this week I can do from home, so today I am able to stay home with my wife Terry.

Terry has been down in the dumps lately. I’m not sure if it was the fact that she had been sick with the flu, bored and lonely now that she only works one day a week and I am gone so much with work, or the fact that every once in a while it gets to her that she has Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

To tell you the truth I am amazed that it does not get to her more often. But she is tough, tougher than I am. And it is a good thing.  (when the kids were little any time they would scrape a knee or get a bump or bruise and started to cry, I would always say to them “It’s a good thing you’re tough!” and most of the time they would take pride in being tough and stop crying. It became a running joke in our house when they got older.)

But Terry is tough. She never complains. And God knows she has plenty to complain about, and I’m not even talking about having to put up with me. But last week she was visibly upset about being home alone so much and it was killing me.

This is my busy time of year, working 70 hours a week. I try to take Terry with me on the road trips I have to take, and that helps a great deal. But during the day when I am at work she is all alone.

I try to keep her busy, every day giving her a list of things to do. And that helps as well, for the most part.

When Terry and I were first married I would get Sports Illustrated and read about half of the magazine, just the things that interested me. She would read it cover to cover, even the stupid stuff like sailing, curling, and fencing.

Now she reads the Bible every day.

She also used to read books, novels.

Terry does not enjoy reading as much as she used to.  It is tough for her to follow what is going on. She’ll read a few pages but by the time she gets to the end of a chapter she’ll forget what she read in the previous chapter.

When she reads her scriptures she uses highlighters, which helps her.

Watching movies also is not as enjoyable for her because she has trouble following the plot.

She has always been a big sports fan and watching games is still great for her. There is always the score on the screen so it is easy to follow and remember who is winning and how much time is left or what inning it is.

Her favorite teams growing up were the Boston Red Sox, the New England Patriots and the Providence College basketball team. To this day she can still name the starting five and the sixth man on the PC team that went to the Final Four in 1972-73.

Over the years I’ve taken her to a few Red Sox games and she was like a pig in mud.

Her Patriots are in the Super Bowl next week so Terry is a very happy camper.

So today I will find many stories about her Patriots on the web and let her read them, and we’ll watch plenty of SportsCenter on ESPN when they are talking about the big game.

On Super Bowl Sunday our daughters will be home with their boyfriends to watch the game with us. It will be a great day. Over the past dozen years or so, when I didn’t have to work on Super Sunday, Terry and I always went over my friend Jack’s house to watch the Super Bowl. He always had a good sized party with relatives and old friends and neighbors and it was the place to be.

The years when the Patriots were in the big game, however, Terry had to watch the game at home. She used to concentrate so much on every play; she didn’t like the party atmosphere, where we would be having side bets on such things as:

this next play will be a pass or a run

which team will be the first team to get a first down

how soon will Seattle running back Marshawn Lynch grab his crotch (something he has been fined for several times this year)

When the Patriots were playing Terry was an intense fan and could not be distracted.

Not so much anymore, although she still loves her Pats.

And today is looking like it will be a great day too, since I am able to stay home with Terry.

Four years ago my son bought me a snow blower. Then we went three years without any snow. Last year made up for the previous three with numerous snowfalls.  Today I planned on using the snow blower but we only got a few inches.

Which made this an even better snow day. No work and also no inconvenience of a ton of snow.

Nothing like a snow day to make things so delightful!

Until next time, hope you have an unexpected day off in the near future.

Bud

One Flu Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and it was made pretty darn clear to me recently that it is cold and flu season.

Ever since my wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, I have been what is called a ‘caregiver.’  That name took on a whole new meaning recently when I had to care for Terry once she caught the flu.

There is one thing you have to understand. Terry does not get sick. The last time she vomited was when she was pregnant with our now 26-year old. Even about 20 years ago when we both got food poisoning from eating Reuben sandwiches at a diner, I was sick as a dog and she had a little more than a stomach ache.

That’s not normal.  But, luckily for me, I rarely have to take care of a sick spouse.

Terry, on the other hand, has had to nurse me through quite a few illnesses over the years, although she shows absolutely no sympathy when it comes to hangovers. Fortunately, there have not been that many of them.

Last week I was coming home from a road trip, a rare trip that Terry’s schedule did not allow her to accompany me, and I felt a cold coming on. By the time the three hour drive home was over, I was sick. Could not stop coughing.

The cough slowly worked its way up into my head and a full-blown cold was in place.

I tried to stay away from Terry as much as I could, so I spent the first couple nights in the living room on the couch. Notice I didn’t say I slept on the couch. I wish!  That was the worst part of the sickness, not being able to sleep. My breathing was labored, with a wheezing element to it, which kept me awake at night. The one thing I really needed, sleep, I was not getting.

After the third day I developed a fever.  That’s when I knew that the flu that a lot of people at work had and that I was able to avoid, had finally caught up to me and bit me in the butt. I really knew I was sick when a couple of beers went untouched for over a week in my refrigerator.

Although sick, there were three days out of four that I HAD to go to work, at least for a half of the day, and that, along with not getting much sleep, allowed the flu to linger. It was a solid week before there was any sign of it letting up.

And even though I had done my best to stay away from Terry, she eventually began coughing and became bed-ridden.

Fortunately I have great kids, so when I had to work several evenings my kids took care of Terry. Making and feeding her soup, buying her meds and liquids.  Waiting on her. They have much better bed-side manners than I do.

I often tell Terry that she is ‘one gross girl’ as I clean up her used tissues and help her change her clothes. I say it with a smile and it makes her laugh.

Thank God Terry has such a good disposition in life. It takes a lot to bother her. Maybe that is why we’ve lasted so long as a couple.

So now she is getting plenty of rest, she is drinking plenty of fluids and she is taking flu medicine.

About 10 years ago flu shots became popular. I got one, and a day or two later I developed a bad cold.  The following year I got another flu shot and, sure enough, I got another cold. So that was the last time I got a flu shot. To me it wasn’t worth it.

With my latest experience with the flu, I’m thinking getting a shot might be worth it. I think I will get a shot next year. The cold it may or may not have given me was much better than what I’ve been through the last two weeks.

But just last month the CDC warned that this year’s flu vaccine may not be effective against all strains of the flu virus.  Medical tests have shown a “mutated” strain of influenza not covered in the vaccine.

Influenza. That just sounds bad. Like Polio. Or anything that ends in pox.

Those shots are recommended by WHO (World Health Organization, not Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend).

But recently I read that more than three-quarters of Americans who got this season’s flu shot could get the flu virus anyway, according to U.S. officials, given a mismatch between the flu strains covered by the shot and those actually causing illness in people.

So the shot this year is only 23 percent effective overall. Since they’ve been doing studies on the flu shots 10 years ago overall effectiveness of the shots have ranged from 10 percent to 60 percent.

Get that shot back up to 60 percent next year and I’m in. If 60 percent was good enough for me when I was taking tests in school, than it is good enough for a flu shot.

Especially since this year, when the shots are not even hitting their own weight (baseball term).

Until next time, hope you don’t get the flu.

Bud

Happy New Year

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year.

As you are probably aware it is customary to wish someone a Happy New Year the first time you see them after January 1. But what is the cut-off date? What if you don’t see the person until the end of January?  Or later? Is it okay to wish someone a Happy New Year and Happy Valentine’s Day in the same breath?

There is an old Scottish poem called Auld Lang Syne which translates to “old long since” but more or less means “long, long ago”, “days gone by” or simply “old times.”  The first line of the song, “For auld lang syne” could be translated as “for the sake of old times.”

Growing up, when Dick Clark was still hosting American Bandstand before he rocked in New Year’s Eve, I remember Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadian band would perform Auld Land Syne on television New Year’s Eve.

Since then I enjoyed Dan Fogelberg’s sampling of it in his Same Old Lang Syne song and before that I think I heard Jimi Hendrix play it when he was Live at the Fillmore East. (I was never heavily into Hendrix although his National Anthem is my favorite rendition.) And I remember when Billy Joel played in the old Spectrum in Philadelphia around Christmas time he played Auld Lang Syne toward the end of the show.

Auld Lang Syne always seemed like a sad song to me instead of a celebratory one. This is the time of year where we should be celebrating, both all of the good things that took place in 2014 and the promise of better days to follow in 2015.

Looking back, my initial thoughts on 2014 are not good. After all, a year in which there is an Ebola outbreak, a terror group known as the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) makes itself known and you are told your best friend has an incurable disease cannot be looked at in a positive way.

Being told my wife Terry has Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease back in the spring was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. However, I am trying to look at the year as a whole and decide if it was a good year or not.

On the plus side of the ledger, I can now bring back Cuban cigars for my friends when I visit Canada, a friend of my son’s competed in the Winter Olympics in Sochi and Terry and I had some great trips together.

We went to Montreal for a family reunion that had over 30 people in attendance, including all nine of Terry’s siblings, some of their spouses, her mother and a few nieces and nephews.

We went to the Jersey Shore over a half dozen times, where we took long, pleasant walks in the sunshine while breathing in the fresh, salty sea air.

We traveled to New England a few times, visiting the home where Terry grew up and the park where she won many tennis trophies, along with visiting her relatives.

And of course we traveled to Kauai, Hawaii, for a tremendous week in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

In addition to the trips, Terry and I spent more time together this year than in any other year since we met in 1978.

So for that reason alone it has to be in consideration for being thought of as a good year.

Terry even travels with me on many of my work-related road trips. So far this winter she has gone with me to Philadelphia, New Rochelle, NY, Hartford, Connecticut, Staten Island and Poughkeepsie, NY.

However, the reason why we had all of those great trips, the reason why we spent so much time together this past year, that is way over on the other side of the ledger.

It is never a positive when you are told it is Bucket List time.

Most people hate it when the alarm clock goes off in the morning and you have to get out of that warm, comfortable bed to face the hard, cold world.

I guess sometimes we all need a ‘wake-up’ call. We get stuck in our ruts and forget about the big picture. We forget about our priorities. We forget about what is really important.

That is one thing that Terry’s diagnosis did for me. It woke me the hell up.

I wouldn’t say I was taking Terry for granted, but I was certainly taking our time together for granted. We planned on and looked forward to growing old together.

Now I am told that is not going to happen.

So we tried to make the most out of 2014 and I think we were successful. We did a lot of great things and we did them together.  We learned to appreciate things more.

If the weather did not cooperate and we had to cancel our outdoor plans, instead of being upset we couldn’t do what we had planned, I was happy that I was able to just sit around the house watching television or putting a jig saw puzzle together with my best friend.

I used to hate jig saw puzzles but Terry likes them and, as country singer Blake Shelton says, “I like doing what she likes.”

If nothing else, 2014 was a great learning experience.

Looking forward to 2015, I doubt I will receive any news as traumatic as the news I received last April. That’s the good news. The bad news is that with every passing day we get closer to the point where Terry’s meds will stop working and her brain will start to deteriorate more and more.

I guess we all have to learn to take the good with the bad. 2014 had plenty of both.  I just hope 2015 has more good than bad.

Until next time, Happy New Year,

Bud

Merry Christmas

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I wanted to say Merry Christmas.

Not Happy Holidays. Certainly not Merry Xmas.  But Merry Christmas.

You don’t really hear that much anymore, in this politically correct world we live in.  Everyone says “Have a Happy Holiday.”

Like someone would really be offended if you said “Merry Christmas” and they don’t celebrate Christmas.  I wouldn’t be offended if someone said “Happy Hanukkah” to me.  I might give a puzzled look if someone said to me “Happy Kwanza,” but it certainly would not offend me.  “Happy Bodhi Day” would be appropriate if I was practicing Buddhism, which I could be mistaken for if my name was spelled Budd.  “Happy Festivus” is common among fans of the old television show Seinfeld.

In the Great White North (Canada) the McKenzie Brothers, Bob and Doug, might wish you a “Happy Boxing Day.”

I prefer “Merry Christmas.” Always have.

The Christmas season has many traditions. One is all of the television specials and movies.

I haven’t seen the Charlie Brown Christmas show in a few years, but that was always the go-to special when the kids were growing up.  My kids didn’t know who Burl Ives was but they did know his character, Sam the Snowman, the narrator in the Rudolph movie.

I have three movies I have to watch every Christmas. White Christmas with Bing Crosby, Scrooged with Bill Murray and Love Actually with a large ensemble, including Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, Liam Neeson and Keira Knightley.

To many people, Christmas is all about the presents. Buying them, receiving them, wrapping them. Finding just the right one for someone special. Finding anything affordable for someone you work with.

When I was little my sister would always find an excuse to go downstairs before the sun came up Christmas morning to see what Santa had left under the tree. And of course, being a good little brother, I had to go with her.

I remember my father telling the story of one Christmas when he had to assemble a gift that took forever, and they had just gotten to bed about five minutes before we came running down the steps.

When our kids were little Terry and I would take them to a tree farm to cut down the Christmas tree every year. The kids would pick out the tree and take turns with the hatchet and saw until it was time for me to step in and finish the job.

The kids were always surprised how small the tree looked in the open field and how big it became once we brought it inside the house.

The big red stockings with the kids’ names on them hung from the mantel above the fire place and were usually filled with pens and pencils for school, tic tacs, gum, life savers, little packets of tissues. You know, things they sell at the checkout line at the grocery store. Even the dog and cat had stockings, filled with bones, squeaky toys and cat nip.

Christmas Eve would be one of the few times we actually had a fire going in that fire place. 

Where I lived growing up we could get both the New York City and Philadelphia television stations on our antenna (for you youngins an antenna is what you needed before there was cable TV), and WPIX, channel 11 in New York, would air the Yule Log Show, which was just a fire burning in a fireplace while playing Christmas music. Our house did not have a fireplace but my father would put on that show every Christmas Eve. He used the same old jokes every year, too, going up to the TV and rubbing his hands together like he was warming them from the fire, or yell at me “Don’t sit too close to the set, you’ll get burned.”

My kids would usually receive one big gift each and a few smaller ones. I remember one year they all received Starter jackets. Cabbage Patch dolls were hard to find when they first came out in the mid-80s but we managed to get one. Over the years sleds, Big Wheels and motorized (battery) cars evolved into bicycles. And there were always dolls, ice skates, roller blades, basketballs, soccer balls and baseball bats and gloves. And we would always get some type of board game or trivia game so we could all enjoy each other’s company playing the game.

Eventually the kids were old enough to hang out at the mall with their friends, so their big gift became a gift certificate, so they could do their own shopping.

The best part of Christmas, for me anyway, was the fact that we were all together. When I was a kid we would have something at our house then travel to my grandparent’s house. (We didn’t have to go over a mountain but we did go through the woods to get to grandmother’s house.)

That is a tradition I continued with my family. We would have something at our house then travel a short distance to my parent’s house, where my sister and her daughter would be, for more presents and Christmas dinner.

Now that the kids are grown and have their own lives, I am looking forward to Christmas for that reason. The opportunity for all of us to be together.

The day after Christmas I will take Terry up to New England so she can visit her mother and a few of her siblings. Last year, once we knew something was wrong with Terry but before we found out it was Alzheimer’s, I made a last minute decision to take Terry to New England for a surprise visit. It was a great decision.

These occasions are something I no longer take for granted. I am afraid there will not be as many of them in our future as we would like.

I no longer worry about buying the right present for everybody. I worry about seeing the people I want to see, spending time with people I want to spend time with.

That is what Christmas is all about to me these days.

That, and of course, what Linus first said to Charlie Brown almost 50 years ago, and every year since. I believe it is called the ‘annunciation to the shepherds.’ It is from the Gospel of Luke in the King James Version of the Bible.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men.

That is what Christmas, not the Holiday, is all about, Charlie Brown.

Until next time, have a happy holiday and, more importantly, a Merry Christmas,

Bud

Still Terry

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and my wife is Still Terry.

Six months ago a dear (nicer way of saying old) friend of mine from college days sent me a best-selling book by Lisa Genova called Still Alice. It is a story about Dr. Alice Howland, a Harvard professor who, like my Terry, is diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease. The story is told from Alice’s point of view. What she goes through.

At that time I was just learning about this horrible disease and was looking forward to reading as much as I could about it. To date I have read almost a dozen publications on the subject, mostly text books, research papers and coconut oil recipes.

I was a little disappointed at first to discover that Still Alice is a fictional story, but then I found out that the author is not only a writer but a neuroscientist, so she knows of what she speaks (or writes).

I began reading the book back in the summer and it was pretty good. Alice and Terry were the same age and had many other things in common, as far as the early stages of the disease are concerned, so it was very interesting to me. But I had to stop reading it halfway through the book.  I couldn’t bring myself to read about the latter stages of this disease.  I wrote about this experience in one of my earlier blogs back in July, Head in the Sand.

Now I see that they have made a movie out of the book, with the same title, and it is due to be released next month. And I’m excited about it. I can’t wait for it to come out.

Don’t get me wrong, there is no way I am going to go see this movie. I can’t even watch the movie The Notebook. I saw some of The Notebook several years ago when either Terry or one of my daughters was watching it on TV.  I remember thinking it was a ‘chick flick’ and really didn’t pay too much attention to it. All I remembered about it was that it was a real tear-jerker.

Since Terry was diagnosed with EOAD, however, watching The Notebook or now Still Alice would for me be like peeling a few bags of onions. Only worse. More painful.

But I am very happy that the movie Still Alice is coming out and that the actress who plays Alice, Julianne Moore, is already being talked about as an Academy Award nominee.  To prepare for her role Moore met with the head of the national Alzheimer’s Association, underwent a battery of tests and hung out with many patients suffering from EOAD.

Movies get so much more attention than books do, even though in my opinion movies based on books hardly ever measure up.  But, in today’s world when most people don’t have the time it takes to read a book, they can still find two hours to watch a movie.

No, I’m not going to see Still Alice, but I am excited about it coming out because so many other people will hopefully see it. I am happy about the fact that a movie about EOAD may be seen by millions.  This will certainly help raise public awareness.

Most people associate Alzheimer’s with senior citizens. And with good reason. Of the 5 million people in the United States who currently have Alzheimer’s, all but 200,000 of them are 65 years old or older.

My Terry is only 55 years old.

I promised myself back in the summer that as Terry’s illness progressed, I would go back and finish reading Still Alice, to maybe help me realize exactly what she is going through, what she is feeling.  She is so quiet these days. But it is not like she is in a fog or in a daze. She knows what’s going on.

For now, anyway. For now, she is Still Terry.  Sure, she cannot do many things she used to be able to do, but her personality is still there. Her love of sports and exercise is still there. Her love of being with me and with our kids is still there. Her love of visiting her family is still there. Her sense of humor is still there. And she still has her extraordinary faith.   One thing that Julianne Moore found out while researching her role was that “People think personalities get obliterated with Alzheimer’s, and I found out people’s personalities come through loud and clear,” she recently said in an interview about preparing for and making the movie.

My wife is Still Terry, thanks in part to the medicine she has been taking since May.  The doctors warned us that these meds will not improve Terry’s condition, won’t even stop it from getting worse. But they will slow it down. Unfortunately, after a while these meds stop working. The doctors said the meds should give Terry another year or two, before things get bad.

I won’t read the end of Still Alice to see how bad, but I have a rough idea. I have done some research. I have read quite a few non-fiction books on Alzheimer’s. People associate Alzheimer’s with memory loss, but that isn’t the half of it.  That’s just the beginning. Alzheimer’s is the sixth leading cause of death in the United States. More people die of Alzheimer’s each year than breast cancer and prostate cancer combined.   About 500,000 last year. People don’t die from losing their memory.

But I won’t get into the gruesome details right now. Just as I won’t read the second half of the book, or go see the movie. Maybe my head is still in the sand. But back in the spring Terry and I decided to begin to live for the moment, live for today. I no longer look too far down the road. It is ugly down there.

These days I am just grateful that my wife is Still Terry. And I am grateful that they made a movie about what she is going through, what we are going through. Hopefully it will generate more public awareness, more contributions to end Alzheimer’s and possibly more years of my wife being Still Terry.

Until next time,

Still Bud

Days of Infamy

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and for members of the ‘Greatest Generation’ yesterday, December 7, was a date that will live in infamy.

For people of my generation, however, today, December 8, was also an infamous date in history.

The ‘Greatest Generation’ is a term coined by journalist Tom Brokaw and refers to the generation that grew up during the depression and went on to fight in World War II.  Yesterday marked the anniversary of the United States entering that war, after the Imperial Japanese Navy, without warning or declaration of war, attacked the U.S. Naval base in Hawaii. Pearl Harbor.

Today, everyone who is 75 years old or older remembers where they were that day, and how the public opinion of staying out of the war changed overnight.

December 7, 1941 was the original 9/11.

Thirty-nine years and one day later I was living in Rhode Island, watching Monday Night Football. The New England Patriots, my then-girlfriend Terry’s favorite football team, were playing the Miami Dolphins, my favorite team (the ‘Fish’ as we called them practiced on my college campus so we saw and interacted with them on a daily basis).

With less than a minute left in the game, Howard Cosell interrupted the broadcast to announce that John Lennon had been shot and killed outside of his New York City hotel, the Dakota, where he lived.

December 8, 1980. John Lennon was just 40 years old.

Lennon was a hero of mine and I had just bought his latest album, Double Fantasy. 

The murder was senseless and shocking. How could someone kill such a peaceful and talented artist? 

I was just a child when JFK, RFK and MLK were assassinated, and didn’t really understand or feel the pain that the adults did. This was the first assassination of someone who I had strong feelings for. It hurt.

I remember driving to work the next morning with my headlights on, as the local radio station had suggested, to show support and pay homage to Lennon. Even though it was a bright, crisp New England morning, there were more cars with their headlights on than not (and this was before cars had headlights that automatically turned on).

Lennon’s death triggered an outpouring of grief around the world. The following Sunday I was one of millions of people around the world who paused for ten minutes of silence to remember Lennon. Over 225,000 people gathered in New York’s Central Park alone. Every radio station in New York and many others across the county went off the air for ten minutes that day, in Lennon’s honor.

Although these two days of infamy, December 7 and December 8, were both marked by unspeakable violence, the victims could not have been more different.

At Pearl Harbor the majority of the 2,400 Americans killed that day were military.

John Lennon was about as anti-military as a person could be. He often wore a green army jacket as part of his biting sarcasm.  His songs said what he was about: Give Peace a Chance, War is Over (Happy Christmas), I Don’t Want to be a Soldier, Imagine, Mind Games (Make Love, Not War), Power to the People, and when he was with the Beatles All You Need is Love, Come Together and Revolution.

These were all songs about changing the world in a peaceful manner.

My wife Terry and I had our own Day of Infamy back in the spring of this year. A day that changed our world.

April 11, 2014. It was the fifth anniversary of my father’s death. I remember saying a few prayers to him that morning, to see if he could pull a few strings for us, put in a good word for us.

It was a Friday, the week before Good Friday. I guess you could say it was Bad Friday for me and Terry.

That was the day, after two weeks of testing, that the doctors at the clinic confirmed that Terry did in fact have Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

Like those stationed at Pearl Harbor and like John Lennon, this was an attack we were not prepared for. It came out of nowhere. And it was fatal.  Or at least will be in the not too distant future.

The events that took place on December 7, 1941 and December 8, 1980 affected millions of people.

The news that Terry and I received on April 11 of this year affected only a few dozen people.

But Alzheimer’s affects millions. There are more than 5 million people living in the United States right now with Alzheimer’s. Only 200,000 of them, however, are under the age of 65.

My wife Terry is only 55.

I always knew she was one in a million.  But I also always knew that we so looked forward to growing old together.

When I get older losing my hair

Many years from now.

Will you still be sending me a valentine?

Birthday greetings bottle of wine.

If I’d been out ‘till quarter to three

Would you lock the door?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me,

When I’m 64?

Paul McCartney sang those words, but it was Lennon who wrote them.

I only pray that Terry and I will still be together when Terry turns 64.

Until next time, hope none of your days are infamous.

Bud

Separation Anxiety

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I have discovered that I have more in common with my son’s dog than I already knew. I already knew we were both lovable, we both liked being scratched by my wife Terry and we both have large, fat tails.

(Let me clarify that last remark. I’m talking about his fat tail and my fat butt, not a vestigial tail that I may or may not have been born with.)

When my son was very young I was his best friend. I guess he didn’t have quite the imagination needed to have an imaginary friend.  As he grew up he compiled many, many real friends. To this day when he goes out with Nick, an old high school friend, Nick cannot get over the fact that no matter where they go, from Hoboken to Atlantic City to Philadelphia, there is always someone there who knows my son.

When my son got older and became a man, and no longer needed my fatherly advice (so he thinks), he became my best friend.

But now he has a four-legged best friend.  And his new best friend and I have something else in common.

We both have separation anxiety.

Whereas my son’s dog, Harry, reacts to being alone by destroying things (window blinds seem to be his favorite target), I react in other ways.

When my son was very young I returned home from a two-week road trip in December, arriving home on Christmas Eve. I couldn’t wait to get home and see my young family after working on the road for so long, especially right before Christmas.

When I arrived back in town, I went from the airport directly to my parents’ house, where my kids were staying while Terry was working at the YMCA, teaching gymnastics to toddlers (GymJam). The kids (only two of them at that time) were upstairs playing with their older cousin. When I called for them to come down so they could greet their prodigal father, they said they were still playing and not ready to leave. I went upstairs and informed them, in so many words, that it was time to go.  I was anxious to get home and see my wife and prepare the house for Santa’s arrival. When my son vetoed my instructions, I picked him up and carried him down the steps so we could leave.

My son has always been an independent thinker and, as he said, was not ready to leave.  He decided that his only way of breaking free of my grasp while going down the steps was to bite me on the shoulder.

Needless to say, that was the first and only time that ever happened. When we reached the bottom of the steps I carefully placed him on the floor and proceeded to beat the shit out of him. I’m not sure what hurt more, his butt or my hand. Or my heart.

(a lot of child rearing ‘experts’ believe that spanking is not the proper way to handle misbehaving children. All I know is that was the only time I ever had to do that. I was never bit again and my son never gave me another reason to spank him again. After that incident, when I gave instructions, they were carried out. lesson learned.)

After that unceremonious reception we went home. It was the first time I was home in two weeks. I was very happy to be home. I went into my bedroom and cried like a baby.

To this day I’m not sure if I cried because I just had to beat my son, or the fact that it was not exactly the homecoming I had hoped for.  Either way, I think that was the beginning of my separation anxiety.

I was reminded of this anxiety this past two weeks when I was away from home on a nine-day road trip.  I have had many of these road trips over the years, but this was the first since I became a caregiver. Since my Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

I was hoping that while I was away, talking to Terry on the phone once or twice a day would ease my anxiety.  

It did not.

Knowing that my three children were spending time with Terry over the Thanksgiving holiday did wonders for my insecurities. But talking to Terry on the phone did not help that much.

As I mentioned in previous blogs, since Terry has been afflicted by this disease, she has become even quieter than she was when I first meet her, a shy, introverted cutie with an infectious smile.

These days, if I don’t start the conversation with her, it doesn’t happen. So talking on the phone has quite a bit of dead air. I tell her about my day and ask her about her day. But I can’t ask too many questions. With Terry’s memory, or lack thereof, it is tough.

I spoke to Terry Thanksgiving morning and she told me about the different foods the kids were preparing for the feast.  My son was making the turkey; my daughters were making the stuffing, gravy, potatoes, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, green beans, rolls and sangria.

Thanksgiving night I called Terry and asked her how her day was and I asked her what she ate. She guessed “chicken?”

Wiping a tear from my eye and taking a big swallow, I reminded her that it was probably turkey, not chicken. She laughed it off, as she always does. Thank God she still has her sense of humor.

A few weeks ago we were listening to music, as we always do, and one of my favorite 70’s bands, the Pretenders, was playing one of their first big hits, “Brass in Pocket.” One of the recurring lines in the song “I’m special, so special” was playing and Terry said “I’m special, like Special Ed.”

How can you not love that?

Its funny how when the kids were growing up and I was on the road, I depended on Terry to take care of the kids while I was gone. Now, I depend on my kids to take care of Terry while I am gone.

Full cycle. Who knew?

So now I am heading home from my road trip.  I can’t wait to see my wife. To talk to her in person.  She may not be able to remember what she had for dinner but she still remembers me. She still remembers how we feel about each other.   Those are things I don’t take for granted anymore.  I know there will be a day in the not too distant future that this will not be the case.  This disease will separate us from what we have, what we are.

That is the separation anxiety I am suffering from.

Until next time, stay connected to your loved ones.

Bud