“Spring has sprung, the grass has riz. I wonder where the birdies is.” Or to borrow Martin Luther King’s words: “Free at last free at last.” Seems a bit of an extreme welcome to spring but it gives me a new lease on life. Even to sit on the front deck and wave to neighbours is relaxing.
They may wonder why I’m waving. I had a little taste of it recently.
Carol came to take me out for a sidewalk walk with my trusty walker. It was the first time since winter started.
Of course I do get out during the winter but it is often a struggle for Dorothea to get me down the back steps, over icy patches to the car. Readers may think I’m exaggerating.
Evoking King may seem a little extreme, I guess.
The winter weather allowed me only rare trips to the gym. Dayna must have been bereft.
Back to dementia. Every day I come across more and more stories about dementia. Some are hard to believe. I should hold back on reading such stories but the journalist in me pushes on.
In one story I read that opening your curtains could help. As it happens we have a large living room window looking out over our front deck.
Lo and behold, Dorothea just happens to do that to bring more natural light in. It does help because it gets me out of my comfy den where I spend most of my time when I am not in bed.
I’ve also read that there is a way to put the unaffected parts of my brain to take up the slack and work harder. There is even talk of wearable cameras to record brain transplants. Sounds far-fetched.
I guess I should lay back and relax from reading that kind of stuff.
But there is lots of humour in my house. There are times when, I’m told, I ask the same questions twice within minutes.
A friend of Dorothea called her recently from Florida. After reading one of my columns she noted I had said Dorothea had been caring for me for five years. The friend called to say it’s been a lot longer than five years.
Joshing me about my dementia even from family is not out of order. Even the grandchildren kid me about my memory lapses. We can’t be serious all the time. A little jab here and there seems appropriate for this grandad.
So we will soon be able to spend time at Peter and Carol’s cottage in Northport and visit with our friends the Letchers.
That might seem like a small thing, but it’s essential for a guy who’s been snowbound for months.