Alzheimer's hurts!

This is a tough, tough year for our family.  Thank God we had the foresight to come back stateside a couple of years ago, to be with our aging parents and ease their transitions.  Thank God we had the resources and will for me to be able to take off work, to support, physically, emotionally, logistically, our parents in a time of need, this year.

Arlee's dad passed away in May, after a bout with cancer and a few weeks on hospice.  My own mom went on hospice, with a whole soup of health issues, on the same day.  She passed away last October, thankfully peacefully after her own set of struggles.

With Arlee and I both as only children, we have carried all aspects of those care transitions:  advising and managing hospice care, making final arrangements, and working to learn about and sort out the legal and financial details that accompany departing from this planet.  It turns out, if you have never done that, that these things can be quiet complex, and very time consuming, at the same time as being very emotional.

But the biggest, hardest piece of all this turned out to be caring for Arlee's mom, diagnosed with Alzheimer's and vascular dementia.  Arlee's father, before he got sick, had done an outstanding job, misguided though his approach was, at hiding the progression of his wife's disease from her, from us, from friends, neighbors and doctors.  We knew mom was a bit forgetful, but only when dad took to his sickbed did we learn she was forgetful of things like, what happened five minutes ago; did I eat breakfast this morning; which way is my bedroom again?

Arlee moved in with them in their home, some fifty miles from our own home, during her dad's illness, and for some time thereafter, but we concluded that an assisted living setup was going to be necessary for her mom.  Arlee had her own family to care for.  Staying there in her parent's home was not tenable, nor was the thought of moving her mom in with us at our house--the stairs were an obstacle, as was her literally constant demand for attention and reassurance.

We ended up moving her to a very nice, upscale assisted living facility about twenty minutes from our home.  It was really nice; upon touring it, my question was--when can I move in (the director said I would be old enough in about five years--I'm not quite sure how I feel about that).  Sadly, she did not take to the place.  We visited almost daily, but she would not remember our visits.  She called us scores of times (literally) each day, sometimes pleasant, more often fearful or angry or agitated.  Sometimes she wanted to be picked up from "this hotel."  Sometimes someone had stolen her money (it was in the locked drawer we would remind her).  Sometimes her husband had left her for another woman.  Sometimes we had stolen her driver's license (we were holding it for her, at her request), or her car (she had not driven in years).  Or someone had taken her ironing board (the facility did her laundry for her).  Or all her clothes (she had closets full of them).  We ached for her, and it smarted when she said cruel and hurtful things to and about us, as well, as paranoia is part of the disease.  We learned about the Thirty-Six Hour Day.  We tried to make happy interactions and activities, taking joy in a passing smile, a foot tapping to music, a piece placed in a jigsaw puzzle on the card table.  She had happy moments, but sad, anxious, angry, and frightened hours, and days, despite our and the staff's best efforts.  The worst was the hundreds of times she had to experience the grief anew, realizing her beloved husband of sixty-two years, was dead.  Had been dead for months, and she had forgotten that again.  "How could I forget that?" she would lament.

It became apparent by November that the staff at that facility, geared toward a different clientele, were not able to meet her needs; she moved at their impetus to an associated memory care facility.  The good news was it was only five minutes from our home, and the staff there were geared especially towards her specific kind of needs.  The bad news was she never took to the place, isolating herself in her room, grieving, eating less and less, and becoming weaker physically as well as cognitively.  She was in and out of the hospital, and towards the end did seem happier and more at peace in many ways, but was progressively less present with us--she recognized us less, forgot our names more, began to call Arlee by her long-deceased aunt's name (Lorraine saw herself as the little sister, being cared for by her big sis).  She entered hospice in late January, and left us for good on Groundhog Day.  That is, she died on Groundhog Day.  She had actually left us much earlier.

Bless the caregivers at these places, and the hospice workers--they were wonderful to her, and to us.  It did not make any of it easy at all, for any of us.

Now, we are sorting through our own grief and loss, some guilt, some self-pity, financial and legal affairs, estates, probate, and so forth.  It is complex and time consuming, and seems to involve interminable waiting on hold, endless recitation of social security numbers and birth dates, a few "catch-22s" and a lot of just plodding forward one step at a time.

We keep telling each other it will be over soon.  But, it won't.  In a way, the process, especially working through all the artifacts that make up a life, is a way of saying goodbye.  It is a reminder about what is really important in the end:  it's our relationships and the difference we make for and to one another.

Now, our Faith tells us our loved ones are in a better place, a better state.  Their suffering is over.  But nonetheless, it hurts.  Loss hurts.  Alzheimer's hurts.

But, we'll take the lessons, and we will take the fond memories that are mixed in, and the blessing it has been to be able to be present, to help Arlee's parents, and my mom, transition from this life.  One day, we'll need that kind of help, too.

Onward.

The damage is done

I have been studiously apolitical on my Facebook page and in my blog.  As a school leader, I have intentionally avoided using social media as a soapbox to proclaim or forward my personal biases or agendas.

I'm about to express a political opinion.  See, two things have changed.  First, I am not currently employed or affiliated with any organization.  I do understand that I will be again in the future, and that the internet is permanent (if only everyone understood that reality!).  I'm OK with that.  Second, we as a nation, in the United States, have forwarded entrepreneur and reality star Donald Trump as a major party candidate (Republican, as it were, even though Trump's historic stances do not align with that party's platform).

Opinions, in support of or in opposition to, that particular candidate dominate the Internet right now, and I'm reluctant to add to the volume and enter that (often nonsensical) fray.  Nonetheless, I am compelled to go on record, if you can call this humble blog a record, with a thought about "making America great again."

I cannot believe Trump can win the general election in November.  I believe that in America, ultimately rational critical thinking prevails over vague assertions, hope prevails over despair, and love prevails over fear and hate.  I could be wrong about that, sadly, but let's say I'm right.

Here's the thing.  It doesn't matter.  Trump doesn't matter--he could be any hate and fear mongering demagogue*.  The damage is done, by his supporters, by those that seem to stand by and for racism, sexism, ignorance, bluster, denial and sound bite solutions to complex problems.  The world sees it, our children see it, and as a nation it defines us.

But, we are better than that.  While many are frustrated, while many are disenfranchised, while many are fed up, while many succumb to the appeal of anger, to the appeal of "outsider," enough-is-enough rhetoric, to the appeal of polarized, us vs. them thinking, we are better.  The values we stand for, as a nation are better.

We do, after this campaign, regardless of who we end up electing as president, need to make America great again.  Because the things that have been said, and supported, and celebrated have marred that greatness.

What's next, America?

*it's a bandwagon word these days, and I want to be clear here about exactly what I mean.  I mean demagogue in the modern sense, as defined here, and I want to highlight these methods as aligned with what I've seen of his campaign.

My life back...who knew?

I have really enjoyed being a building principal (at all levels, ultimately, high school, middle school, and elementary school) these past eleven years.  I've made a difference in students' lives, made a difference in teachers' professional practice, and formed many positive relationships along the way.  It was rewarding on many levels.  I look forward to more of that, perhaps at a higher leadership level, in the future.

Right now, though, I'm just getting started on my year's hiatus.  I'm just getting started at letting go of the background tension of always being on call, always being where the buck stops, always being, weekends and holidays included, the principal.  I'm starting to notice what I put on hold eleven years ago, "just for now, until things calm down."  Pleasure reading (not that I didn't enjoy reading professional journals and books and so forth--but I didn't have time for a whole lot more).  Quality family time that was not snatched in precious snippets.  Really fully being present, when together with my wife.  Taking care of house and home projects.  Exercising enough.   Mowing my own lawn.  Playing the guitar and singing folk songs, with friends and family, or just alone, just for fun.  Trying my hand at home-brewing a batch of beer.  I hadn't noticed, but I had been systematically back-burnering everything that was non-work-related, for years.

This year, whether I end up with a part-time position, or no position at all, my first focus is going to be on family.  A mentor superintendent once told me my success in the business (of educational leadership) would be defined by my ability to disengage from the work.  While I know that I will always be inclined to give my all, where I work, I'm learning, after eleven years, that I have needed and will need as I move ahead to do a better job at sometimes letting go.

I'm reminded of a story that went around the Internet (I'm not sure about, and haven't been able to find an original attribution; it references a lecture on stress management from a Harvard professor.  I found a version of it here, on Eric Crawford's blog, Eacology).  It's not if the glass is half full or half empty; it's not really how much the glass weighs.  It's how long you hold it.  For a bit, I'll just be setting down my glass.

Though it is self-funded, and not long-term, I'm calling it a sabbatical.

It's family time

After two years at back in the States, for a mix of family and professional reasons, I am ending my tenure at Sacred Heart School.  The move back to the Rogue Valley was the right one, and well timed with extended family (they needed us).  And I have been honored to lead the school, and we have made positive progress on a number of fronts at a challenging time for the organization.  However, it is time to make another change.  I am looking forward to taking a quiet year, professionally, a long promised and anticipated sabbatical, albeit a self financed one.

Since early in my career, I have been saying, I'm not going to wait for my eventual retirement, but take a year here and there to focus on family and leisure and hobbies and growth and learning and fun and my relationship with God and travel and adventure and all those things we wait for until "someday."  My last attempt was in 2003, while I was completing my masters.  I lasted five months before I had fallen back into full time employment.  This time, I am completing my doctorate.  So some of that learning time will be diving deep into my dissertation, and really being able to focus on it.  I may sub a bit, or teach music lessons, or even find a part-time teaching or admin post, but I am going to resist falling into a full time gig, until the next academic year, when I will be on the market for school directorship or superintendent position.

In the meantime, I am going to try to get to know my wife and sons again--to give them each the kind of sustained and focused attention they deserve.  At the same time, I will attend to my mother, currently in nursing facility on hospice, with sustained and quality time, and to my mother in law, who is suffering from a pretty severe dementia, adjusting (poorly at present) to the loss of her husband and her recent move to an assisted living facility.  It's a wonderful, truly sumptuous setting, with a caring staff, but she keeps calling and wanting to be picked up from "this hotel."  As a family, we are reeling from the illness and loss of my wife's father, and the weight of responsibility managing the trust and the estate, and the care and best interest of my mother in law, and on a separate caption, my mother.  Add our own financial lives, and that starts to sound like a full time, though unpaid, accounting job on its own.  I am looking forward to having the time and attention for these things, and more importantly for these people:  my own family.

I'm worried about reentering the job market after a year of, well, I can call it what I like but it is unemployment.  I'm worried about making ends meet as we dip into our savings to meet living expenses for the next year.  I'm worried about health care.  I'm worried about the impact this will have on my eventual retirement, notwithstanding the early career promise I made myself.

Despite that worry, I know in my heart that this is the right move for my family.  We came back to the states to care for our parents, and it is time to get serious about that.  I have had my nose to the grindstone working 60 hour weeks for the last eleven years, and shouldering the responsibility of being "the principal," that does not go away on weekends or vacations.  I'll be honest, I've enjoyed it, and I've accomplished much good for the institutions I have served.  But, for at least a little while, I'm ready for a break!  This year is going to be a coarse-grained way of achieving work-life balance.  I've approached my career as service to others.  This year, I'm going to serve my own family, and yes, my own heart, soul, and self as well.  It's time for that.

Wish me luck!

A New Year

My last post, months ago, acknowledged technological complexity. Like so many others (I read about it on my Facebook, Flipbook, SmartNews feed, Yahoo News and so forth), one of my New Year's Resolutions is to simplify and declutter.  I actually cleaned out my desk drawers yesterday, for example, even though I don't have time for that sort of thing right now.  It feels good to have clean drawers.  Hmm.  Didn't the Rain Man say something to that effect once?

I'm drawn to the tiny house movement, at least in spirit and concept.  I'm all too aware of the Pareto 80/20 principle, and would love to pare down to the 20%.  Materially, and digitally.  Socially.  Spiritually, even.  The catch is, even if you need something only occasionally--you still need it on those occasions.  And in the meantime, you must store it, carry it, and feel its weight and presence in your life.

I'm also looking to keep a positive focus, and to be and stay energized.  I have some strategies:  prayer, journaling, exercise, and simple force of will.  I do love new beginnings.

To all: a blessed and prosperous and successful and peaceful and productive new year.  Let's make it so.

Complexity.

I'm not even sure I understand what is going on anymore.  I have multiple Google Accounts, multiple identities in Chrome,  email accounts with gmail, yahoo, and at work (which runs through exchange), iPads, an iPhone (it's a 4; it's in mint condition, it has limited functionality in today's online environment, and I'm told it's worth $16 as a trade in).

I've blogged in a separate space, a year ago now, for a technology class, where I indicated we had better "ride the wave," or crash against the rocks, with mobile computing.  I stand by that.  I'm excited to be leading a school that is eager to move ahead, and implementing a 1:1 mobile computing initiative, a new student information system and community communication solution that is cloud-based, and a spirit of "let's move ahead and learn together."

A far cry from the "locked down" environment of my previous position.  A little scary, though, and a little confusing.  Today, I am waxing nostalgic for my paper Day-Timer.  At least I knew which "me" I was.

Nonetheless:  onward.

It's good to be home!

Question:  what's more important money or happiness?  Over the summer, I traded about $25,000 a year of income (and gave up a benefits package worth more than that) for a "better fit" job.  It's still a high responsibility, high-stress, long-hours job, but one aligned better with my biases, beliefs, and strengths.  We are certainly making some lifestyle adjustments to compensate.  (My timing is not that great on this--a son starting college, and me still in the middle of a doctoral program--with big tuition bills every few months).

Well, I remain above the threshold described by Kahneman and Deaton (2010), at which positive impact on emotional well-being ceases to accrue with income increase.  While more money might increase my subjective self-rating of life satisfaction, according to that study at least, it won't make me any happier.

I'll tell you what:  having autonomy in leadership (e.g., the license--indeed the expectation--to employ my own good judgment in decisions that impact my organization), enjoying the expressed appreciation of my publics--my bosses, my staff, parents and students in my school, feeling a part of a worthy and worthwhile mission, and feeling genuinely and positively impactful is worth trading some net pay for, in my book.

So is being closer to extended family.  As only children, my wife and I are enjoying being 5300 miles closer to our parents these days.  As parents ourselves, we are enjoying being in the same country, and same state, as our college freshman.  That was part of them if trade as well.

There were some, in my prior work organization, many, in fact, who stayed on, for the wrong reasons.  They called the sum compensation package the "golden handcuffs."  I do understand what they meant.  While I wish all my former colleagues (those who feel shackled and those who are loving every minute, and all those in between) the very best in their endeavors, I am glad to have taken the leap of faith I did, and escaped wearing those handcuffs.  I am glad I was there, when I was, and I am glad I left when it was time for me to leave.

In my work, in my faith life, and in my physical location, I have come home.  And it is good to be home.

Yeah, and here is an APA citation of the study I referenced, a symptom of dissertation-related compulsion.  I know.  You don't have to do that in a blog.

Khaneman, D., & Deaton, A.  (2010).  High income improves evaluation of life but not emotional well being.  Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America (107)38, 16489-16493.