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

Life is Like a Movie

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I’ve seen a few movies in my time.

My kids often kid me when I say that a certain movie is in my top 10, since they know my top 10 list has about 37 movies on it.  

Movies that we as a family quote all the time, in our everyday conversations. “Oops, what do you mean ‘oops’? No oops.” from Independence Day. “Morons! I’ve got morons on my team!” from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  “Touch my stuff I will stab you in the neck with a knife.” from Step Brothers.

A prerequisite for a movie being in my top 10 is that whenever I am dialing around (if you remember when TVs actually had dials you are almost as old as I am) if I see that a certain movie is on, no matter what point of the movie it is at, I am putting it on. The Godfather, The Natural, Forrest Gump, Heartbreak Ridge, I can’t get past them without putting them on.

During a recent heatwave I took my wife Terry to the air conditioned movie theater to beat the heat and see Finding Dory. Despite being the only adults in the theater without kids in tow, we really enjoyed the movie.

Finding Dory is certainly now in Terry’s top 10. I’m not sure how many movies she has in her top 10, but there are some movies that if I see are on TV I automatically put them on for her. Miss Congeniality is one, Dirty Dancing another.  Anything Melissa McCarthy is in will make Terry laugh.

About a dozen years ago Terry saw the movie 50 First Dates and has probably seen it a dozen times since. In the romantic comedy a young woman suffers from short-term memory loss, can’t remember anything that happened the previous day, and a reformed playboy has to try to win her heart over and over every day. It takes place in Hawaii and is very scenic.

Also about a dozen years ago Terry saw the movie Finding Nemo and has probably seen it a dozen times since. In the children’s animated adventure about family under the sea Terry’s favorite character was Dory, a blue tang fish who suffers from short-term memory loss.

I should have seen a pattern forming.

A few years ago, when my wife Terry was first diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, an old friend of mine from college sent me the book Still Alice. It was a best seller about a woman my wife’s age that was also diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.  I read about half of it and had to stop. I couldn’t take it.

When the movie came out last year the actress, Julianne Moore, won a lot of awards for her role as Alice and I was happy that the disease was getting some attention. Attention like the fact that Alzheimer’s Disease is the sixth leading cause of death in the United States. Too many people think Alzheimer’s is nothing more than a bad case of short-term memory loss.

Alzheimer’s kills more people worldwide than breast cancer and prostate cancer COMBINED. People are taking ice cube baths for ALS and wearing pink ribbons for cancer but what are they doing to help fight Alzheimer’s? 

Yes, I was glad to see that movie come out, but that didn’t mean I was going to see it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of anything positive that would come out of me seeing it. Out of us seeing it.

Well, the other night I finally grew a pair and played the movie Still Alice. Terry and I watched it but we didn’t really talk about it too much. During the movie I pointed out a few things to Terry that took place in the film that we could relate to, things Alice was experiencing that also happened to Terry.  Looking back, I don’t think it was such a good idea to watch it.

I was hoping it might trigger something in Terry, help her realize what is going on, if she doesn’t already, maybe help her feel that she is not alone in the world with this problem.  Maybe watching the movie would help her to express her feelings about this situation. Anything positive.

Nothing. The next day I asked her what she thought about the movie and she said it was “too depressing.” But she didn’t mean it was too depressing for her to enjoy it because she also has Alzheimer’s.  She has accepted that. “It is what it is,” she says about her dementia (as she refers to it as), using an expression that is in another top 10 list of mine, as in 10 worst sayings.

She just meant that it was simply not an upbeat movie, for anyone.

In that sense Terry is like me. I look for movies to entertain me, to make me feel good, not make me feel sad.  Make me laugh, not cry. Something to take me away from my daily cares and worries.

So Still Alice will NOT be going onto Terry’s top 10 list of movies. Mine neither. And neither will The Notebook, a film I watched bits and pieces of a long time ago when my daughters were watching it, long before Terry was diagnosed with the same disease as the woman in the film.

I’ll take A League of Their Own or Young Frankenstein over those two movies any day.

Until next time, there will be no crying in baseball or in the movies, even though we are now dealing with an Abby Normal brain.

Bud

Epic Dog

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I have never wanted to own a dog.

Never. 

Not when I was a kid and my sister and I had one. Not when my kids were young and we owned one. And not now, even though I can now see an advantage in having one.

To me, a dog, or any pet that needs taking care of, is an anchor. It holds you back. It prevents you from traveling. It ties you down. It is just one more thing on my plate that I don’t need.

No, I never did want a dog and probably never will.

But I do enjoy watching our “grand dog.”

When our son goes out of town my wife Terry and I watch his dog, Harry. Harry is very entertaining. He is affectionate, happy and very athletic.  He loves kids and is very friendly to everyone. 

Everyone expect the mailman, the UPS man or the Fed Ex man, that is.

Like most dogs, Harry sees these delivery people as trespassers who come to the house but don’t stay around long when the barking starts. So the dogs are not only warning of trespassers, they are receiving positive reinforcement for their barking because the delivery man leaves.

But other than the delivery men, Harry is very loving.  He could probably qualify as an emotional support animal. At least for my wife Terry.

Ever since Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease close to 30 months ago, it has become more and more difficult for her to be alone. When I am at work Harry not only keeps Terry company, he entertains her. Harry is always chasing squirrels, rabbits, birds. Anything that moves in our backyard Harry tries to catch.

Since Harry and my son live in an apartment, Harry doesn’t have a yard. The two of them go on long runs and long walks, so Harry gets his share of exercise and outdoor life, but he is always on a 30-foot leash. In our fenced in backyard he gets to roam free, roll around in the grass, and he seems to love it.

And Terry loves to watch him. “Harry’s a funny dog,” she is always saying with a chuckle as she watches him bury a chewy treat in our backyard or run underneath the telephone wires hoping the squirrel will somehow fall.

They say some animals can help people with disabilities like anxiety, depression and other emotional or psychological conditions. They provide therapeutic benefits, sometimes alleviating or mitigating some of the symptoms of the disability.

Terry’s biggest problem these days with her advanced dementia is her inability to make decisions. I’m not sure how an animal is going to help in that area. He can’t tell her it is time to go to the bathroom or how to take a shower. But I do know a dog like Harry sure makes Terry feel good.

Some people would describe Harry as an ‘Epic dog’ but not me. I have heard the word epic used way too many times lately.

When I was growing up the word epic had to do with a poem that was way too long and usually about some sort of hero or legendary figure. Now, it is one of the most overused words in the English language and somehow had its meaning changed to “extremely awesome!”

Harry is extremely awesome and could qualify as a legendary figure, at least in our family, and is a hero to me for entertaining Terry.

So maybe Harry is an ‘epic dog.’

And even though I don’t want a dog, I do want to watch Harry again next month when our son goes out of town again. 

And Terry will think it is epic.

Until next time, try not to overuse words. To me, that is an ‘epic fail.’

Bud

Family Matters, Especially in Tough Times

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and with or without Steve Urkel, Family matters.

I recently spent a long weekend in New England, taking my wife Terry to visit her family.

In four days my wife got to see her mother, four sisters, a brother, two brothers-in-law, two nieces, a nephew and his wife, and a handful of great-nieces and great-nephews. (although only one or two of them were great, the others were just good)

During those four days Terry was the happiest she has been in a while. Probably since December when we last visited her family. 

Terry isn’t much of a conversationalist these days.  She always was a quiet person but now most of the talking she does is in response to things I say. But when she was with her siblings and mother she was actually starting conversations, asking questions. It was great to see.

Family truly does matter. Especially in tough times.

I once read that “tough times don’t last, but tough people do.”  I’m afraid I don’t see it that way.

I was extremely saddened to see in today’s paper that one of the toughest women I ever met, Pat Summit, died. I met Coach Summit, the winningest coach in NCAA Division I basketball, in 1980 when my work took me to Knoxville, Tennessee where I witnessed 5,000 fans attending a Lady Vols basketball game, an unheard of attendance figure for women’s basketball back then. Coach Summit won eight NCAA titles at Tennessee and was clearly the Vince Lombardi of women’s basketball.

The real reason it saddened (and scared) me so much is the fact that Coach Summit was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease in 2011 and died just five years later at the age of 64.

My wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease in the spring of 2014 and in five years she will be 64.

Between now and then I hope to be taking Terry to visit her family more and more often. Because our tough times are not only going to last, they are going to get worse.

Another tough person I admired did last, 80-some years, but also passed away yesterday, football coach Buddy Ryan. I have worked closely with about 100 coaches in my career and although I never worked with him, he was one of the ones I respected most. He always spoke his mind, no matter how politically incorrect or no matter how many of his superiors he insulted. I always admired that. That and the fact that he was a defensive genius. (when he was the assistant coach in charge of the defense he once punched the other assistant who was in charge of the offense, during a game! because he thought the offense was losing the game for the team)

Among the many coaches I worked with, the only thing any of them ever punched was a visiting locker room chalkboard during a little too-spirited halftime speech.

Different coaches, just like different people, handle tough situations in different ways.

My family is handling our tough situation pretty well so far. So far.

As Terry’s decline continues, the amount of help she needs is increasing. Luckily, we have great kids who are willing to do whatever it takes to help out. My sister and her daughter don’t live too far away, and I am afraid it is getting closer to the point where I am going to have to ask them for help as well.

I am not ready to seek professional help yet. As long as Terry knows who I am, I want to be, I need to be, her caregiver. There will be a day when we are going to have to go that route, with professional help, but we aren’t there yet.

So it is time for the tough to get going, because the going is starting to get tough. And is only going to get tougher down the road.

But I don’t think about ‘down the road’ that often.  At least I try not to. I know I should, I know I have to eventually, at least that is what my friends and family tell me. But I just can’t. The only thing that keeps me going is trying to enjoy today.

In the song Quiet Your Mind Zack Brown sings “Soak it all in. It’s a game you can’t win.  Enjoy the ride.”

In the Bible Isaiah said “Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we shall die.”

That has become by motto. I try to live in the moment.  Someone once said: “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” Not sure who it was.

It was either Albert Einstein or Steve Urkel.

Until next time, enjoy the ride, and your family, while you can.

Bud

A Woman in Charge

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and this very well could be the dawning of the Age of Aquarius.

Or Armageddon.

It’s one of those half-full/ optimistic situations. Some feel, and with good reason, it is not only a half-empty/ pessimistic situation but a both halves-empty/pessimistic situation.

Whether you like it or not, whether you want to admit it or not, we are about to have a woman president.  

Or, we are about to witness the end of times.

Maybe both.

It wasn’t that long ago when Miss Ellie wanted to run for town council and the entire population of Mayberry was divided between the men and the womenfolk. They worried it was the end of civilization as they knew it.

It was.

Some 55 years later, the United States is about to catch up with the rest of the world and have a woman in charge.

Germany has Angela Merkel as Chancellor.  Liberia has President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf.  Frozen had Elsa of Arendelle.

And now, We the People are about to have a woman in charge. Whether it forms a more perfect union or not is yet to be determined.

Who would have thunk it? Or, as one Cooperstown resident Richie “Whitey” Ashburn used to say to his long-time TV/radio booth partner and fellow Baseball Hall of Famer Harry Kalas, “Hard to believe, Harry.”

I mean, we are either going to have a woman president, or we are all in a large hand basket heading to hell.

Maybe both.

Remember, they laughed at Noah when he was running around asking ‘how long is a cubit?’ Before him, they laughed at Job. (rhymes with robe for you non-Bible readers).

If we don’t elect a woman, it will truly be the 11th sign of the Apocalypse, if the orange guy wins. (You know why the orange guy has that weird hairstyle, don’t you?  It covers up the 666 birthmark on his head.)

Some feel electing a woman president would be a sign of the Apocalypse.

I think having a woman in charge might not be the worst thing. Take it from the voice of experience.

My second year out of college the man who hired me for my first job took a leave of absence and a woman took his place. Twenty years through my career a woman was hired and implanted (no pun intended) into a position between me and my boss. I survived both times.

Many cultures and religions believe that the man is in charge, and the woman is supposed to be submissive to him. Not necessarily submissive like Anastasia in 50 Shades of Grey, mind you, but submissive to the point that what the man says goes. In the home (or Grey’s bedroom) and in the village as well.

In the Bible, 1 Timothy says “Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man, rather she is to remain quiet.”

Wow!  Paul wrote that in a letter in the year 62. I’m not sure that philosophy has held up over the years. At least not in most cultures.

No, the thinking of keeping the women barefoot and pregnant while the men go out and run the world has seen its day.

Our country is about to have a woman in charge, and it isn’t even Oprah.

For the first 30 years of our marriage my wife Terry was in charge of the house. Even though she worked, she worked a fraction of the hours I did so she kept the checkbook, she paid the bills and she did the shopping. I would help when I could, which was a fair amount of the time.

For the last 30 months, however, I have had to gradually take on all of the responsibilities around the house and the reason seems anything but fair.

I long for the days when my wife was in charge. In charge of the cooking, in charge of the cleaning, in charge of anything. But now her Early Onset Alzheimer’s disease prevents her from taking charge of anything.

I have to admit that I was never from the school of thought that said the man is naturally the boss and what he says goes. My marriage with Terry was always based on us being partners. When I was home I changed a shit-load of diapers. (okay, pun intended). I cooked many a meal (on the grill). I did the dishes and cleaned the house (if Terry was sick or if I made the mess when she was gone).

Now I sometimes feel sorry for myself because I no longer have a partner. I don’t mean just my helpmate, someone to share the chores. I mean my soulmate, the person I chose to share my life with.  I no longer have my confidant.

She was my moral compass.

Now I have to make ALL of the decisions around the house, and I do mean ALL. What Terry wants to eat, what she should wear today. When she should shower or go to the bathroom.

I would love to have a woman in charge. My woman in charge. In charge of my home again. But that’s not going to happen.

What is going to happen though is that a woman is going to be in charge of the United States.

Or, it will be the end of times. 

Maybe both.

No one knows the time or day when it will happen. But signs are pointing toward it.

Until next time, get used to saying “Yes, Ma’am.” And say your prayers.

Bud

Happy Happy Joy Joy

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I am afraid that I’m not “such a happy Chewbacca!”

Certainly not as happy as that Texas woman who recently bought the Chewbacca mask and recorded a video of herself getting quite a big kick out of it.  The video was watched by over 50 million people during the first 24 hours it was on the internet this past weekend.

Me, I am afraid I have not been a very happy Wookiee.

There was a television cartoon on the Nickelodeon channel in the early ‘90s, when our kids were young, called Ren & Stimpy.  Ren was an emotionally unstable Chihuahua and Stimpy was a good-natured but stupid cat. They performed the ‘happy happy joy joy’ song and dance.

Some feel that ‘Happy happy joy joy’ was a tribute to folk, country and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer singer Burl Ives, since some of the lyrics are from some of the songs Ives sang.

Some feel ‘Happy happy joy joy’ is when the world expects you to put on this happy and joyful face when what you really want to do is scream, curse and cry. To make everyone happy even though your world is falling apart, you put on this mask of ‘happy happy joy joy’ while singing a silly song.

I guess I have been guilty of wearing a mask.

Not quite the Chewbacca mask, more like the one Eleanor Rigby kept in a jar by the door.

The British DNA in me has helped ‘keep a stiff upper lip’ the last two years, since my wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s disease. I would have to admit, however, that the lower lip has been known to quiver from time to time.

One of Terry’s favorite music videos is Miranda Lambert’s “Mama’s Broken Heart” and in it the country star complains that her mother is telling her “don’t matter how you feel, it only matters how you look. Go fix your make up, it’s just a break up, run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady. ‘cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart.”

I’ve been working hard to not fall apart, trying to keep it together. I really haven’t felt too much true happiness the last few years.  But there have been times when I was enjoying the moment, which has been my goal all along, to try to enjoy the moment and try not to think of the big picture.

Fortunately, this time of year is when those moments usually begin to get more and more enjoyable. And more and more frequent.

It is the end of May, my favorite time of year. My work load slows down, the weather turns nice and most importantly; I am home a lot more. Home with my Terry.

My wife Terry needs me more and more each day, needs help with more and more tasks.  When we are apart I worry about her quality of life. I know she gets nervous when she is alone. She calls me and asks me where I’m at? She doesn’t always understand why we are not together.

But when we are together, we laugh. A lot. Seeing Terry laugh is the greatest.

To me, it is so much better than the infectious laugh of the Texas woman wearing the Chewbacca mask. It truly makes me happy and gives me joy.

So as the warmer weather arrives I will be home more with Terry to enjoy it.

The other side of the coin, however, is that as the days grow warmer, with each passing day Terry’s cognitive skills decline more and more. This makes me worry about the future and, in turn, start doing the happy happy joy joy song and dance.

I never let Terry see me sad or upset. I need to be strong for her, to give her a sense of security. The best way for me to make her happy is to be happy myself. Or at least wear the mask of a happy person.

Happy happy joy joy.

Until next time, hope you can be as happy as the latest internet sensation, the woman wearing the Wookiee mask in Texas. She is such a happy Chewbacca!

Bud