Quality of Life

Meet Sue Anne W. Kirkham, author of Loving Zelda – A Stepdaughter’s Caregiving Journal

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by Sue Anne W. Kirkham

How it all began:

It was late October when my husband, Jack, and I showed up at my father and stepmother’s townhouse to walk their two dogs—a duty we’d taken on several months earlier, after they announced they no longer felt up to the task. At 84, my father suffered from respiratory and circulatory problems; at 81, my stepmother showed early signs of dementia, with some Parkinson’s-like tremors erupting, just to keep things interesting. I was determined that they not be forced by these circumstances to give up their pets. On this day, Dad greeted us at the door with another shocker. “We have to move into assisted living.” No hello. No how ya doin? Just this stark declaration.

Dad and Zelda had always been younger than their years in every respect. He continued his career as a psychologist into his late 70s, and the warm, witty, delightful woman he married in 1972 had always been active and ready for a new adventure. Each enjoyed absorbing hobbies, and they eagerly traveled the globe together for most of their 32-year marriage.

As Jack and I herded the pups that chilly autumn day, I remained troubled by the prospect of a radical change in lifestyle for my beloved father and stepmother. So I hatched a plan: leave my dreary clerical position and devote myself to lightening their load and injecting some sparkle back into their lives. I would carve out a new weekday vocation as companion/housekeeper/social director/exercise coach/assistant cook.

I kept a journal from Day One as, over the next 18 months, Zelda suffered incremental losses of mental acuity. Less noticeably, my father’s COPD was cranking toward a dramatic climax that none of us anticipated. While I focused on finding enough fingers to plug the ever-multiplying holes in the home-front dike, Dad’s staunch self-sufficiency propelled him through his own physical deterioration. Meanwhile, I watched Zelda—former organizer of Fourth of July kitchen band marches—fade into confusion. To be at her side through the slow, agonizing loss of her Self would prove to be the most affecting experience of my life. It soon became clear that the course I was chronicling was strewn with striking contrasts: moments of high hilarity and wrenching despair; snapshots of the struggle for dignity in the face of decline; arcs of mood between fear and optimism, gratitude and resentment. Hobbling my efforts to navigate these troubled waters was the crushing blow of friends and family members challenging my motives, questioning my trustworthiness.

This enterprise had much to teach me about life and death, human limitations, faith, and endurance. The struggle, as they say, was real. But the joys and rewards were every bit as genuine.

Why I wrote about it:

As my time with Dad and Zelda ended, a fresh commitment shaped my mission: I had been seeking a book topic I felt passionate about. This was that subject. I would share our experiences, unique amidst all the universal similarities, to promote understanding and support others confronting the challenge of caring for those who once cared for us. I chose the memoir format because, as dementia robbed Zelda of her voice, my journal became the story; it painted a complete and authentic picture for readers. Memoir also allowed for the interweaving of  family history, a fleshing out of characters, and a means of affirming through narration the individual’s continuing worth, untainted by the loss of physical and cognitive abilities.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sue Anne Kirkham is a freelance writer who blogs atwww.yourrecipesforlife.com. She has published print articles on aging and family relations as well as online profiles of inspiring everyday heroes, and essays on health-conscious living and the peculiarities of contemporary culture.

FOLLOW THE AUTHOR:

 

FOLLOW THE AUTHOR:

Author website: www.lovingzelda.com

Author Facebook page: @LovingZeldaCaregiving/

Twitter: @SueAnneKirkham1

LinkedIn: Sue Anne Kirkham

12 years ago seems like yesterday

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Twelve years ago today, my father died from complications of Alzheimer’s disease. That morning I had received a call from the memory care unit where Dad had lived for several years. The nursing manager of that unit said if I wanted to see my father again before he died, I should come as soon as possible. (I had spent a week with him the month before and knew that his prostate cancer would most likely hasten his death.) I first called my husband at work to let him know I would find a flight from Seattle, WA to Medford, OR and be gone…for how long? I didn’t know. Then while on the phone with my brother and sister, I booked my flight online with a tentative return, threw the very minimum of clothing in an overnight bag, and headed to SeaTac International Airport.

If you have read my novel, Requiem for the Status Quo, you’ve pretty much read the account of what transpired for me at my father’s bedside; some of the happenings that day/evening were altered, but the gist of what transpired are contained in Chapters 41 & 42.

Upon my return to Seattle, my energy level was depleted yet still on alert. When you have a loved one with a debilitating disease, a state of alertness is the norm – the status quo of constantly being in a state of emergency, if you will. You keep waiting for the phone to ring with the latest development – such as it did for the last time on October 13, 2007 – but that phone number’s appearance on my Caller ID had ceased.

What hadn’t ceased was the business of dying – all the financial and estate matters one cannot ignore – but because of my father’s diligence and organization leading up to his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, much of what I needed to do on behalf of his estate and us survivors, was readily dispatched in the months that followed my father’s death.

But the “now what?” of life post-caregiving was front and center for me. Initially, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with anything having to do with dementia. I continued to financially support my local Alzheimer’s Association and participated in one more Walk to End Alzheimer’s, but that was it. Then my heart called and I became an Alzheimer’s Association caregiver support group facilitator and shortly thereafter, I entered the world of long-term care advocacy by becoming a Washington State LTC ombudsman, both of which I did for five years.

Then my heart spoke to me again, this time it said, “How about writing about your experience as Dad’s caregiver?” I ignored that thought until I no longer could – it wouldn’t leave me alone! I dragged out all of Dad’s records and my numerous journals, sat at my dining table, and over many months’ time, outlined how I would honor my father’s journey and my family’s experience within the pages of a book that might benefit others.

That was five years after my father’s death. My book was published five years later.

Now twelve years after the end of my father’s Alzheimer’s journey,

my book still manages to make its way into the hands of those who need it.

If you, or someone you know, needs encouragement and a renewed sense of hope,

please make your way to your favorite bookstore, or find it right here.

Blessings to you today, and always.

Status Quo or Same-O Same-O

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How often have you felt defeated because your day-to-day existence is somewhat routine and boring?

The life of a family caregiver, attending to a loved one with a disease or malady that is all-encompassing, is never Same-O Same-O. Any semblance of status quo flies out the window shortly after taking on this learn-as-you-go caregiver role. The boring life about which the family caregiver used to complain no longer exists as she or he memorializes that long-abandoned way of living. My memorial to status quo existed while attending to my father during his Alzheimer’s journey.

Requiem for the Status Quo speaks of that memorial to things that once were.

This Week’s Good News!

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I’m a writer and a published author so when independent bookstores can thrive in this 21st century, Amazonian world, I enjoy celebrating with them. This local bookstore proves you can be small but still make a grand impression.  I love this type of good news! And by the way, I recently published the 2nd edition of my novel, Requiem for the status quo, a book I wrote to honor my father’s Alzheimer’s journey. Yes, it’s available on Amazon, but it’s also available at the independent bookstore featured in this week’s edition of Good News!

Sustenance for the family caregiver

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In a recent interview with Oprah Winfrey, New York Times columnist and author, David Brooks, eloquently responded to Oprah’s statement where she said, “I hear that authors write the books they need to read.” Mr. Brooks’ response:

We writers are beggars who tell other beggars where we found bread.

He further explained that statement by saying:

We found it here, we want to share it with you.

That is what the more than 200 AlzAuthors have in common. Each author may describe their quest or mission somewhat differently, but no doubt many of them would agree that the impetus to write about their personal experiences was a call to action they could not ignore.

As a member of the AlzAuthors community, I personally feel that the more mainstream the conversation surrounding the Alzheimer’s and dementia experience becomes, the more the AlzAuthors’ vision will be realized:

Our vision is to lift the silence and stigma of Alzheimer’s and other dementias.

May you find sustenance within the AlzAuthors community.

This Week’s Good News!

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This story from The Week really made my day when I read it. I hope you feel the same way!

Dan Laguardia went to a California dealership with plans to trade in his 2005 Toyota Scion and buy a new auto. Then he saw another customer walk out crying and asked a salesman what had happened. Laguardia, 49, discovered that Kayla Cooper – a struggling 22-year-old nursing student with two jobs – was upset because she couldn’t afford a down payment and didn’t know how she was going to get to work. Knowing he had to do something, Laguardia asked the salesman to call Cooper and then offered her his old Scion for free, no strings attached. The delighted Cooper called the gift “the biggest blessing of my life.”

This Week’s Good News!

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A subscription-only magazine, The Week, provides this week’s good news:

Bill Waldschmidt used to work on classic cars, but now he’s fixing a different mode of transportation. The retired Minnesota engineer contracted polio at age 4 and spent most of his childhood on crutches. He regained enough strength to walk as an adult, but 10 years ago, post-polio syndrome put him in a wheelchair.

With a new sense of purpose, he removed the vintage cars from his garage and began buying and refurbishing power wheelchairs, which he then gifts to people who can’t afford them. “He’s the kindest man on the planet,” said Don Johnson, a disabled Vietnam vet, and owner of Waldschmidt’s chairs.

Thank you, Bill, for contributing so much to so many!

This Week’s Good News!

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We have all been on flights where, lo’ and behold, walking down the aisle to find their seats is a parent and her or his baby and if you’re like me, you silently prayed, “Please, please, please don’t let that baby be seated anywhere near me!” Okay, maybe you didn’t exactly say that prayer but I know you had those thoughts. Well, a mother boarded a plane for a 10-hour flight with her four-month-old baby and you just know there were passengers thinking about how their extended flight experience may turn out to be. Well, the mother had a contingency plan, which this article spells out. I was amazed by what she did!

Is time your enemy or your friend?

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Sometimes statements or concepts I hear repeatedly over the years suddenly come to mean something new to me and when they do, wow! My life is set on edge, but in a good way.

I was listening to a podcast the other day focused on the concept of stress and anxiety in the workplace and in our private lives. The statement, “We oftentimes declare time to be our enemy when we have so very much to do and so little time in which to do it” came up and suddenly, a new perspective about time settled within my thoughts and within my heart, which made me boldly declare out loud:

Time is my very good friend, because I still have time.

That was it – very simple – but I know the reason for that revelation came about because as of January 24, 2019, my extraordinary sister-in-law, Wendy, no longer had time at her disposal. I know Wendy wanted more time to spend with her husband, three adult children, her sisters and brothers, her good friend Gary who also happened to be her boss, and so many other people she cherished, and who cherished her. But through no fault of her own, decades of life were stolen from her by the ugly injustice of cancer.

I cared for my sister-in-law greatly. I choose to honor her by respecting the time with which I have been gifted, just as Wendy so beautifully spent the time given her.

Won’t you do the same?

 

 

This Week’s Good News!

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The first Good News Story of March is something I personally witnessed. The greater Seattle area of Washington State experienced a Snowmageddon of sorts the beginning of February resulting in many places, including my neighborhood, receiving two feet or more of snow. One thing we’ve learned living in this neighborhood is that if even 1/4 of an inch of snow falls, our Waste Management service ceases, so much so that we just went three entire weeks without garbage and recycling service because the company’s policy is to protect their drivers from snow and ice incidents in their vehicles.

I get that, but those super heavy vehicles were no match for the rinky dinky mail carrier truck that made it to our mailbox every day of Snowmageddon, not missing a day of mail delivery service. I witnessed our mail carrier (a slightly older gentleman) climb over snow berms in front of neighborhood mailboxes and I also saw him park his truck at a cul-de-sac he couldn’t drive into, haul the mail for those mailboxes on that closed off street, and deliver each and every piece of mail to those residents.

Good News delivered by a dedicated postal carrier. Isn’t that grand?