Showing posts from April, 2013

"He's still there."

Sometimes, without thinking, I torture myself with wondering how Lacy is coping with the changes in his mind and body.   I think at times he is angry with the worsening of HD symptoms.    His paranoia must feel like a storm of racing thoughts in his brain.

I was talking to Kenny about this, and he reassured me.  "He can still laugh and get silly.  He can still be happy.  He can still smile and rub his hands together.  He's still there."

This last Sunday was a wonderful visit with Lacy.  He and Kenny were talking about getting a fan for his room.  Kenny suggested a really big, powerful fan, and Lacy grinned.

"An industrial fan..."  Lacy giggled.

Kenny jumped right on it.  "Yes, a fan so powerful that when we turn it on, it will blow everything around and out of your apartment."

"And outside..."  A big grin and laugh.

And so it went.  Back and forth, as the power of the fan became more and more fantastic.  Nearly twenty minutes of banter.

We c…

"...Let me know how transient I am."

My heart aches for a friend who lost her husband yesterday.  They have four very young children.  My friend's husband was at a clinic for a routine procedure when something went terribly wrong.  
Earlier this week I was reading Psalm 39 and verse four stood out to me:  Lord, make me to know my end, and what is the extend of my days: Let me know how transient I am.
Those of us who live with HD or other such diseases are reminded daily of the transitory nature of life.   Each and every day is important.  What a gift it is to know the extent of our days, and to understand that our lives are so short.  Acting on this knowledge - enjoying the moment, walking day by day - is one way the friends we have made through our HD support group live their lives.  It is the way Kenny and I try to live ours.
My friend and her husband cherished their family time.  They are people of deep faith.  I know that they loved and appreciated each other, and this will be a comfort to my friend in the unchar…

"I am undone..."

My friend sent an e-mail.  Her adult daughter is ill - in a fight for her life - and my friend begged for prayer and support.  Her daughter had a terrible seizure and stopped breathing for a moment.

"I thought she was going to pass away in my arms.  I am crushed right now and need your prayers.  I need the strength of God.  I am undone..."  I understand her feelings, the raw emotion that fills a mother's heart when her child in in peril.

Our visits with Lacy are increasingly painful.  He often yells at us - it is as though we can do nothing right - and we have to leave to give him time to calm down.  How our lives have changed.  Was it only a few years ago that he couldn't wait to see us, or to come home to visit?  Now he often glares at us with suspicion and calls the "police" to have us arrested.   How is Lacy doing?  Well about the same.  Every time we see him, a little more is gone.   It's a good visit when he doesn't speak at all, only looks …