Join us on the evening of Friday, December 5th at the Green Flash Gallery for a craft fair to benefit Vernon Adams and family. Artists from throughout our community have contributed items such as ceramic teapots, tiles, quilts, ornaments, stamps and many other hand-crafted items.
Enjoy appetizers and beverages, musical entertainment by Andrea Ketcham and friends at the reception on Friday evening from 6-9 PM.
Return with your friends on Saturday from 10 AM – 6 PM to wrap up your Christmas shopping with one-of-a-kind handicrafts and truly original art!
I can’t let the day pass without writing a little about the significance of this day. It’s November 15th…Maki’s birthday. But not just any birthday…today we have a teenager in the house. It looked a little like this…
Just kidding. Maki is way more mature than that! He’s our Man of the House, after all.
What he wanted to do tonight: have a slumber party with a couple of his friends, eat a lot of of junk food, play their card games, and watch movies that he never gets to watch at home with a four year old running around. So she and I have camped out upstairs and left them to their boys-only party.
The other thing Maki really wanted to do today was have Chris Adams take him and his buddies climbing at their indoor rock climbing gym. I knew he loved his climbing time with Chris, but I didn’t realize it would be his top birthday choice of activity. Some of his other climbing friends celebrated with him. Here are Sarah, Maki, Devlin, Damon, and Scott.
I think its so great how Maki has been embracing friendships of different ages. People have reached out to him as well, and I know his dad would be pleased to know this. He is such a well-adjusted kid.
We love our teenager.
Happy Birthday, Maki!
(Big thanks also to his family in Norway, England, and his mother in New Zealand for all the presents that made him feel extra special today. He woke up at 7 to get at the goods. It was like Christmas!)
Today was a hard day… the end of a challenging week. Vernon is making his improvements, which we celebrate daily, but it seems as he gets stronger, I feel weaker. My tears have flown often the past few days, even though I’m finally able to have an interactive relationship with him again. I’m trying to embrace the paradox.
Here is a lame-disclaimer: I’m struggling with allergies and hope its not a cold coming on. But as Vernon has been teaching me, a virus can throw a mind for a loop, not just the body.
Maybe its that symbiotic bond that couples develop. In a perfect world, we are equally strong. Or when one is down, the other can fight. And then it balances out again and maybe they shift roles. One friend suggested to me that it is as if we are two sides to the same body. When one foot steps forward, the weight falls on the other…when one arm swings forward, the other swings back. If its a healthy relationship, we move in tandem with the other, ebbing and flowing as we move forward. Obviously, in my case lately, its more like one leg forward, the other drags.
In my Barre class, the instructor often tells us that the side of the body that is getting the real workout is the stabilizing side, not the moving side. So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that as Vernon gets better in all areas, and some of the pressure is taken off, I am suddenly feeling so tired and weak. Until now, I would say that Vernon has always been the stabilizing partner in our marriage. No wonder I feel the fatigue: these muscles are new to me.
What a perfect picture Vernon’s current lopsided physicality happens to be right now.
Of course he is not aware of this yet…he THINKS he can walk because he used to be able to, because he WANTS to. ThHe hasn’t quite got his head around his disabilities because he hasn’t been getting physical therapy at this new place. In fact, it won’t be till our Insurance has approved the new PT’s assessment (she called me today.) And even her assessment had to be approved by Insurance. What a racket! (But at least we have some. I know it could be worse.)
The longer he goes without speech, physical, or occupational therapy, the slower his recovery is. This could be setting him back physically for weeks. Of course this is upsetting, but I have yet to know what our alternatives are. If that is what he needs, I pray they show up…because I don’t have the energy to chase them. I get calls that he is becoming more aggitated. But I’ve noticed that when he has company, he becomes more relaxed and coherent. Obviously he isn’t doing well the hours he doesn’t get attention.
I’m fighting the guilt that I can’t be there all the time. I know its not healthy or positive, especially as these thoughts come stronger when I’m feeling tired.
Again the mystery: the stronger he gets, the more tired I feel. Please know that through expressing all this, I am not looking for sympathy or even for solutions. I am just trying to document our journey. To remember it later. And this is just one of those days. If readers want to be helpful, please keep these things in your prayers. We could both use a little extra Supernatural Power at the moment!
I don’t have a photo of Vernon from today, but here is one from a few years ago…his working holiday to Istanbul that Justine and I tagged along on. A good reminder of what his working right arm looks like!
“Music, at its essence, is what gives us memories. And the longer a song has existed in our lives, the more memories we have of it.” —Stevie Wonder
Today my dear friend Andrea visited Vernon with the specific plan of starting some music therapy with him. Andrea is a musician and a teacher, and she thought she would start by playing a variety of songs from her laptop, knowing there would be some connecting with the music that goes beyond conversation. I felt like we were teenagers sitting around in someone’s bedroom, listening to music, discussing how we felt about each song as it played. Vernon told us that he used to trade records with his friends in school and also asked Andrea what kind of music she liked.
When we talked about it later, she told me how impressed she was by that. That he was not just experiencing things for himself, but that he was giving back…asking about her interests. She introduced him to The Civil Wars, whom she loves, and Vernon seemed fascinated in the music itself, chatting about the blend of male and female vocals and talking about how the sounds came together. She told me that she noticed how he seemed more tuned into the ensemble of instruments and cadence when the music was new to him and that he would become more nostalgic or talk about how the music made him feel when it was a song he recognized.
He seemed particularly attracted to the bass-lines of songs. It should be no wonder as he played bass when he was a teenager—but as far as I know, he hasn’t picked one up in his adult life. Perhaps its time to bring one in (anyone have a spare?) It might work out well since he has good use of his left arm and only his forearm and fingers are moving on the right.
Then I played Vernon a song I’d discovered shortly after his accident that I knew he would love…as he always had a soft spot for British Psychedelia…
Suddenly, for the first time since his awakening, he began to have an dream about the future. This may seem pretty hair-brained, but to me it was significant because until now, he’s only seemed able to live in the present or the past. He got excited over the idea that he could get together with some other musicians and start playing music like this in public. I reminded him how for years he has talking about getting together with musical friends (he does mess around from time to time on guitar on his own) but never seems to drum up the interest in others. He remembered what I was talking about and said: “No, I know I’ve said that, but its not what I mean. That’s just sitting around jamming. I mean actually playing in front of people on a stage once a week or so!”
Well, okay then. Anyone interested in starting a band at the nursing home with our Vernon? You’d definitely have a captive audience, at any rate.
All this with just a few random songs and some different company. Speaking of company…Vernon loves it more than anything these days. His personality seems to have shifted lately and at least for the time being, an extrovert has emerged. If you want to visit Vernon, bring a couple of favorite songs. He says he loves to exchange tunes.
Vernon was not in his room when I arrived today. I thought, he’s either been sliding himself out of bed again and needs to be watched in the hallway or—hope against hope—he is having Physical Therapy. When I asked, the nurse told me: “It’s neither. He’s in the dining room.”
“Dining room?” Don’t the people here realize he isn’t able to eat yet?
As I got closer to the dining area, I began to hear the sounds of a party: Music, singing, clapping. It had slipped my mind that today was a holiday. Veteran’s Day!
I turned the corner and noticed first a few helium balloons tied to the back of wheelchairs…and then, a blinding flash from a gold-lamé jacket that could only be worn by one man.
ELVIS PRESLEY!
Elvis was indeed in the building. This little dusty hide-away full of disabled elders…and the King had come to them! I guess this nursing home isn’t so shabby after all.
I found Vernon semi-reclined at the back of the room. He was happy to see me and held my hand while we watched the show. He seemed much better today, more relaxed and able to hold a conversation. He clapped at every song and kept saying how great it was. I asked him: “Don’t you find it kind of surreal?”
“Yeah, it is a little weird. But it’s great!” I was pleased to see how much he enjoyed it. Not quite as much as some of the ladies in the crowd, though, who were ready for full-on kisses when Elvis made his way to them. I can only imagine what would happen if the nursing home booked a Tom Jones impersonator!
During the performance, I mentioned to Vernon that it would be great to bring my good camera and start photographing events like this. He agreed, and then I told him how I’d been taking photos of him all along, documenting his progress. “Really?” He said. “Thank you.” (We’ll see if he still feels grateful later…)
Then I had the courage to tell him what I’d been wanting to share with him for a long time now.
“Do you remember how I used to sit and wonder how I could make a photo documentary series? How I used to come up with these interesting (to me) ideas: people I wanted to photograph that were living fascinating, different (to me) lifestyles? Maybe homeless people, maybe bingo-ladies, frustrated circus clowns, foreign gypsies. After all, I grew up mesmerized by the human-interest stories in National Geographic.
And you would always tell me: ‘Don’t look so far out of your own life. You need to look at what is close to you, that’s how you get honest photographs, real stories. These are the people—your friends and family— who will trust you, who will let you and your camera into their lives without feeling self-conscious. Anyway, even if it seems normal to you, your world might be really strange and fascinating to someone else. You’ve got to stop looking elsewhere to be inspired. Start documenting the stories happening around you, not somewhere else.'”
About this time, the manager of the facility came around with her little point-and-shoot camera. She said hello to us and asked if we were having a good time. Of course we were. She told us the care-home celebrates every holiday and that there would be a lot more parties coming up: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years… And she’d just convinced Elvis to return in a month! I told her I was a photographer and would it be okay for me to take some pictures? She seems thrilled with the idea. Vernon was so sweet to chime in: “She’s very good.” Thanks for the vote of confidence, hubby
.
We’ll see where it all goes. But I will tell you one thing I learned today. Nursing home people LOVE a party. They love to be entertained. And they have pure appreciation. Even Vernon, a born cynic, enjoyed a bit of Elvis.
If there are any frustrated Creatives out there, let me tell you this is a GREAT audience. I’m feeling a bit more inspired myself.
Today was one of the hard ones. I don’t usually cry during my visits. But I found myself overcome more than once today. Maybe the fact that I had a bad a dream about Vernon in the night started me off on some deeply emotional footing. I can’t remember the specifics of the dream, but he was supposed to arrive after a couple days of driving from another state. And then he didn’t, nor did he call. And I waited and became more and more anxious… and after four days he still hadn’t arrived and I didn’t know where he was. That was the dream as I remember it—not a great one.
At first, when I stopped by Vernon’s new room this morning, I was happy because it was empty. I was sure he had gone off to the rehab room, just as he often had in mornings at Kindred. I turned the corner to the nursing station and there he was…hanging out in a reclining wheelchair in the middle of the hallway. The young charge-nurse, Ivy, introduced herself and told me he’d been brought out of his room so she could keep an eye on him as he’d been sliding out out his bed too many times. So much for isolation.
I can understand his frustration. He was a pretty active guy before, a keen cyclist…on road and mountain. He played soccer on the weekends, but would have done it more if he could. He was always independent, self-employed more often than not. He didn’t answer to many, and here he is, totally reliant on anyone who can help him (most of them strangers.) He keeps talking about needing to get up, to go to the bathroom, to get up and move around, if just for an hour. ANYTHING. He wants some freedom.
But like I said in the last post, transitions are a big deal. And he was moved on a Friday. That means no physical or speech therapy till the workweek, and every day without those, Vernon gets less focused in his mind and more tight in his limbs. The setback was very clear today. I was disappointed that no one was planning to assess him for therapy till this evening. Vernon was chatty, but very confused. As I signed a large stack of entry-papers in his presence, I tried to engage him in conversation while explaining to the staff some of his recent idiosyncrasies. I know he is at the point where he doesn’t like being talked about as if he is not in the same room. That’s a good thing, I think. Most people don’t.
I felt the need to explain his current state to various people through the day, so that they would be better at caring for him. I know its a hospital and obviously, I’m not exactly shy about sharing information, but I found it disheartening after awhile. The sense came over me that I could be doing this for a very long time.
All the great progress he was showing last week seemed so distant today and he seemed so confused and agitated. It seems that he can be calmed down as long as he is told what is going on. When he was taken to the dialysis center, he was more beside himself than I had seen him. I realized this was a big day for him. This was the first time he had been taken out somewhere in the daytime, and on top of that, it was to a bright center filled with people on recliners being dialyzed. It might have been an office building for all the bustle and sense of purpose in that place. He made constant, anxious demands so I tried to explain to both the nurses and my husband what was going on, as if I was some sort of interpreter. The overseer, Michelle, was wonderful with us, and suggested Vernon be given some Benadryl to settle him in a little.
I laughed a little as I know that is what people often give young children to calm them down on long flights. This was not lost on me as when I left him, I felt like a parent leaving an overstimulated child at the daycare. As I looked back through the window, I could see he was looking around for something familiar, but he was calming down. Sometimes it is better just to leave. They told me that if he doesn’t settle down and get the hang of it, a family member will need to be with him through these sessions. This was pretty hard to take as his sessions are during school pick-up and there is no other family member nearby at the moment but me. But I have a feeling he will get the hang of it.
I just wish we could jump through these next days and be into the next week or two when he is in a kind of routine.
I keep thinking life is going to get easier, but today gave me the sense that at least for a little while, its about to get a whole lot more challenging…for both of us.
BUT there is always magic to be found…if not in the very room, then just around the corner—which is where I discovered a dusty midcentury-antique store that’s been nestled in a funny little parking lot for 30 years. What a great distraction, what a great place to get lost in for awhile. Here are some stolen pictures. See if you see any beatnik-ghosts. There were certainly a few of them trapped in there.
I did buy a small turquoise pinkie ring and went back to show Vernon. “Look at the ring you bought me, Darling. Thanks!”
He looked at it and approved. “That’s gorgeous, Gorgeous.”
“Thanks. I picked it out myself. I hope you don’t mind. You weren’t there, but you would have loved this place.”
“Well, its what I would have picked out for you if I had been there.”
A special cover of Vernon's fav song 'Waterloo Sunset' by friend and singer/song-writer Ian McGlynn. All proceeds support Vernon's recovery! Donate what you can and download a beautiful song in return.
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