Painting Rainbows

The world around me is my canvas,
Painting the life I am living with many colors on my palette.
Ever changing the perspective of the view I see,
Mixing the colors with each choice I make.


Serenading My Mind by Rainbow Painter

Some days are monotones of different hues of gray,
Then I close my eyes and visualize the light to shine
upon the shadows of the path I am traveling.



a study of oils in hues of grays from my college days 1975 Rainbow Painter

I open my eyes and begin to paint again.
Splashing the vibrant hues of green and reds,
Mix a bit of blue and violet and sparkle it up with
yellows and a shock of orange here and there.




My spirit rises above the shadows as I
stretch out to once again touch the canvas
with another stroke with my brush in hand
from my palate of many colors.


Painted Bunting watercolor by Rainbow Painter


My canvas comes alive and dances around me
to bring me joy and peace for my soul.

A Caregiver’s Personal Story: Getting Into a Dementia Patient’s Head

A Caregiver’s Personal Story: Getting Into a Dementia Patient’s Head
by Carol Bradley Bursack


Dad was adamant. He was waiting for his medical degree to come from the University of Minnesota and wondered why it was taking so long. I did what I usually did, and waited a few days to see if this episode of delusionary thinking would pass. It did not. So, I went to my computer and designed a medical degree with my dad’s name on it, scribbled some “signatures” on the bottom, put it in a mailing envelope and brought it to him, in the nursing home, the following day. He was delighted.

I added it to the other awards and degrees hanging on the wall; the entomology “degree,” his legitimate college degree, some other earned awards, an “award” for helping direct Lawrence Welk’s band. The wall was cluttered with the real and the fake, but I knew I would need to find room for more. Dad’s brain would tell him he had earned something and eventually I would need to produce it.

Dad had, indeed, gone to medical school at the University of Minnesota, but that was before World War II. He took some time off to be an archaeologist and then the war broke out. During maneuvers in the Mohave Desert, Dad passed out from the heat. He smacked his head against the baked desert floor and sustained a closed head injury. He was in a coma for months and had to learn to walk and talk again. He succeeded, and stayed in the army until the war ended, but kept Stateside and trained as a sanitarian.

Dad became director of Sanitation for the city of Fargo, meanwhile raising a family and, like so many returning soldiers, he went back to school. He attended school at night and worked during the day. I remember going to his college graduation. I was 14. Dad continued taking any graduate classes that would help his work or simply because they interested him, and he became very successful in the world of public heath.

As Dad aged, fluid started building up behind the scar tissue in his brain. He had surgery to drain that fluid, but the surgery backfired and he came out of it totally demented – and bonded with a voice in his head we came to call Herman.

That is when reality changed for all of us.

Dad moved to a wonderful nursing home, a block from my house, and for the first few years, my mom was still able to live at home, so I’d take her each day to see him (eventually, my mother entered the same nursing home). Everyone in the family wanted to help Dad, but I was the only one who could really get into his head and be who he wanted and get what he wanted.

I was his office manager. I brought him his brief case. I made a graphic letter head for him, and made him business cards. I took dictation. I mailed letters, and “received” letters – and of course – made degrees and awards.

What Dad could remember was attending medical school at the U of M. Why wouldn’t he have a degree, then? He watched Lawrence Welk on public television. I even bought him a baton because he wanted to direct the band. Why wouldn’t he have an award for that?

One day, a couple of years into this saga, a psychiatrist caught wind of what I was doing. He chewed me out royally. I was supposed to ground Dad. Bring him back to reality. Redirect him. I had no business playing Dad’s game.

Hogwash, I thought. I know my dad. I know he is not capable of coming into my “reality” and I wasn’t going to torture him by trying to drag him along. If I argued that he was delusional, he would feel degraded and disrespected. It made no sense to me. I still had my brain. Why couldn’t I put his anxiety to rest by traveling into his world – his “reality”?

The funny thing is, a few years later, a different psychiatrist stood looking at Dad’s award and degree covered wall. A nurse stood next to him. “I didn’t know he was a doctor,” the doctor said. “He’s not,” the nurse said, with a grin. The doctor burst out laughing. Later he asked me where I learned my “technique.”

“I’m his daughter,” I said. That’s all I needed.

Now there is an actual theory about this called “validation theory.” It makes me smile. I didn’t need a theory to know what Dad needed. I just needed love.

Validation is exactly what Dad needed, because what was real to him was real in his world. Yes there were times when I would try to explain true reality, but I chose my battles wisely. I tried to keep him from seeing television news because he would insist that the war going on (there’s always a war going on somewhere) was in our town, right outside his window. I’d try to get him to walk to the window with me, but no, he knew the war was outside and I shouldn’t belittle him by saying it wasn’t.

Okay, I wasn’t going to “play his game” and say, “Sure Dad, there’s a war outside and they will blow us up anytime.” If I couldn’t convince him of the reality that we were in a “safe zone,” so to speak, I would calmly say, “I’m sorry you can’t believe me, but we are okay. We’ll talk about it another time.” Usually, these things happened when he was having a particularly bad day, and we’d just have to weather it.

However, the rest of the time, I’d just agree with him. What did it hurt that he thought he was helping plan the new zoo in Fargo, including finding an elephant? It kept him busy. What did it hurt that he needed to study “Grey’s Anatomy?” I found a copy in the used book store. What did it hurt that he needed a copy of “Roberts Rules of Order”? I found that, after a search, online.

My point is this: Dad’s reality was a real to him as mine is to me. Why should I, who supposedly can use my brain, make his life miserable by continually telling him he is wrong, when going with the flow was not hurting anyone else, and it was making Dad’s life a little more bearable? Why would I not do what I could to help him have some feeling of accomplishment? I’m his daughter. He would have done as much for me.

http://www.agingcare.com/Featured-Stories/121365/A-Caregiver-s-Personal-Story-Getting-Into-a-Dementia-Patient-s-Head.htm

Submitted with much love and understanding of all who are walking this path.

Emergence

The sun is shining,
the buds are emerging,
the days are lengthening
to a new Spring.

New life is ready to
emerge from the blankets
of Winter and tickle our
souls with colors and dance
with the fragrances of sweet
nectar as the wind blows warmly
to comfort our souls.





I celebrate this New Life
and look forward to it's nourishment
for our souls.





May you gather up the colors of your life and weave them into rainbows for your heart.

Rainbow

AP Probe Finds Drugs in Drinking Water

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/wireStory?id=4416882

AP IMPACT: Pharmaceuticals Found in Drinking Water, Affecting Wildlife and Maybe Humans

By JEFF DONN, MARTHA MENDOZA and JUSTIN PRITCHARD Associated Press Writers
Mar 9, 2008 (AP)

A vast array of pharmaceuticals — including antibiotics, anti-convulsants, mood stabilizers and sex hormones — have been found in the drinking water supplies of at least 41 million Americans, an Associated Press investigation shows.

I'm very concerned with the fact that since the human body is 95% water, our resources are depleting as we speak. I don't have the solution to this situation but maybe I can be more mindful of what I should be doing to preserve this wonderful gift of nourishment that we all take for granted and consume daily.

What concerns me even more is the fact that this resource has become a commodity in which one can prosper and deceive all mankind through distributing bottled water that comes from sources unknown.

Gone are the days of refreshing, pure and clean well waters, lakes and rivers to quench our thirsts on a hot sultry day. Can this situation be turned around? Can we undo the damage that's been done? Have we become a society that only thinks of using these gifts of resources to earn a dollar for our pockets and support the economy by purchasing tainted goods?

Maybe I'm becoming skeptical with age but I thank my Creator daily that I can be more resourceful and tend to the gifts of nature as well as be more mindful of the need to preserve them for not only my health but for all mankind and wildlife. And this too shall come to pass........

Indigenous Native American Prophecy