I'm immersed in the world of Alzheimer again and you know, I don't mind. I need to be here, I want to be here. Honestly, I wish I was doing more.
I NEED TO SPEAK OUT but I don't know how to get started. I'm not a natural joiner, not someone who easily gravitates to those kind of situations that would give me a platform (ah, that word again) to voice my ideas, to make my experience heard, to have an impact.
This is what I hope my book will be, that opening I can slip into, widen, blow wide open but I STILL H AVEN'T HEARD BACK.
(insert sound of my head exploding)
But that's okay. No news is good news, really.
I've been reading Oprah's interview with Caroline Myss in the January issue. In fact, I've read it three times because it's saying what I believe, what Oprah's been pounding into me for years.
Myss says, "Your spirit is the part of you that seeks meaning and purpose. It's the part drawn to hope, that will not give in to despair." This is how I feel, and what keeps me going.
(Otherwise, I would have thrown myself in the duck pond months ago.)
"You know we say things like 'I just have to be true to myself'?" Myss says. "What does that mean? Great people always say, 'There's something I was meant to do.' That knowingness is what the soul understands. You have fundamental agreements that you simply feel. You can't put your finger on them because they reveal themselves to you within the context of your life through coincidence, synchronicity and obligations you can't get out of."
Reading this interview, and needing to read it several times, tells me I'm getting there. Makes me feel like my egg is cracking and I'm ready to tumble out of it, all wet and slimy, those feathers matted, legs wobbly but beak open. Squawking.
(Must work on metaphors. Again.)
What am I trying to say? That this Alzheimer stuff isn't going away, is in fact growing at one diagnosis every five minutes, so my words need to be found, my story needs to be shared, my voice needs to be heard. There won't be one person out there who isn't touched by this, even if it's to understand what a friend is going through, that a friend needs that lasagna TODAY. (I will never forget the kindnesses of my friend Shelagh. They're in the book; Shelagh's good deeds deserve to inspire others.)
Those people who say, "Oh, god, she's going on about Alzheimer disease again," are simply those who have never taken care of someone with the disease. If you've seen what I've seen, you can't not care. Once normal cognitive function starts to go, it's a whole new ball game. If you don't know how to play the best game you can, you're screwed.