From my old school days......1st grade and on up. I remember Sammy Randazzo. Everybody liked Sammy. He was a little guy.... not very bright but he was always so happy and playful and full of mischief, giving the teacher a fit, but bringing a lot of fun into the classroom.
The teachers would usually send him to the cloak room for his misbehavior. ( The cloak room was where we all kept our lunches, sweaters, ect.) One time while confined to the cloak room. Sammy went through all the lunches and ate up all the goodies. After that, when he was naughty, he would have to stand in the corner and face the wall. The girls would love to tease him on the playground, but everything was fun for Sammy Randazzo.
Now why am I thinking about Sammy Randazzo at this time of my life?......I've met others similar to him, but he was the perfect example of someone who never let anything stand in the way of his happiness.
While going through the sad experience of being a caregiver for my Helen as she went through the stages of vascular dementia, I thought that for me, happiness would be impossible........But maybe not.......What would this be like for Sammy Randazzo? I can't imagine Sammy being unhappy.
Well.......I read a little story about attitude and It finally came to me.........It's all about ATITUDE.............I found caregivers on the internet who had it much worse than me. And I thought about all the poor people in far away countries who were suffering and dying for lack of things that I was just taking for granted. And I realized that I still had a lot to be thankful for. So I counted up all the good things I had and quit dwelling on the bad. I changed my attitude. I found what I was searching for......HAPPINESS
I found these two little poems that seem to illustrate what attitude can do.
The first one was written by Richard Lovelace. He was a political prisoner for most of his life, under the worst conditions, where he wrote many beautiful poems. The second poem is about someone who had everything going for him............
Prison walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty.
By Richard Lovelace 1618-1657
Whenever Richard Cory went downtown, We people on the pavement looked at him. He was a gentleman from sole to crown. Clean favored and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed. And he was always human when he talked, But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good morning," and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich - yes richer than a king, And admirably schooled in every grace. In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So on we worked and waited for the light. And went without the meat, and cursed the bread. And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Well, George, Lincoln said that 'most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.' Attitude? Yes, bars do not a prison make, and, boy, do we caregivers know that! I don't know about poor Mr. Cory, but I do believe there are those who have mental demons the rest of us cannot imagine and while some may envy the outside trappings, few would change places.
I had an older sister whose life was more tragic than most on this site--and without any AD in it. I never heard her say, 'why me?' or 'I don't deserve this,' or 'it's not fair, I'm so unhappy.' She seemed to get up each morning, look at Life and say, 'hit me with your best shot, I'll still be here tomorrow.' And she was, until she died at 90.
One time I asked her, 'how can you bear it?' Her answer surprised me and I thought about it a lot. She said, 'it's statistics.' And, you know, that's about it. She just didn't take it personally, altho she had every right to. Maybe she had some of your Sammy's DNA. We, here, are part of the 5 million American families who suffer with AD--we're statistics. Damn - it's hard not to take it personally, it's hard not to be unhappy and miserable. Our lives, as we knew them, have been snatched away thru no fault of our own.
I do know one thing tho, a decade since my DH left: We may all be on the same road, but each journey is different and that's understandable. And none of us knows what the future may bring, but Nature takes over, like it or not. Eventually the day comes when you tell yourself, "I've had enough of this" and get on with life. God knows I am not saying it's easy, been there, done that, cried buckets--it takes time, but eventually you just get on with things. Attitude? Bless us all.
Yes, I think I know what you mean, George and Betty. I look back with lots of gratitude for a wonderful relationship and many happy memories…and yes, the Alzheimers journey was long and miserable…but I got through it. I've lost seven pounds now, and exercise every day. I've given up that wonderful daily glass of wine, and cheese and butter for the most part--am going to turn green from all the vegetables I eat. But for the first time in years, I'm losing weight, not gaining. (A wonderful, positive sign for me.) And I'm writing more, and playing more (bad) piano and lots more harp. Family issues are annoying as can be, and it's hard to say "no" because there are little children involved, but I did not turn my life upside down and move to this state to be my daughter's slave and rescuer. But it's a good thing I found out plenty early enough to get out of the situation…and I can come up with socially acceptable platitudes so outsiders will not know how I've been bullied and exploited. So life is not perfect, but I'm on a good path, I think. And I know Larry is out there, or up there, or somewhere…watching over me and always with me in my heart. And always will be. I am not by nature depressed and unhappy…I'm fairly stoic and even-tempered for the most part…and I far prefer being happy to being unhappy. So life goes on…yes, there is life after Alzheimers. As Betty said: Bless us all. (And New York…here I come!)
George, I get your point about having a good attitude, even under adverse circumstances, but Richard Lovelace is not a good example. Lovelace actually had a pretty good life. He was a country gentleman, a justice of the peace, and a "Cavalier poet" who wrote about 200 poems during his lifetime. His reputation as a prisoner has been greatly exaggerated in popular history. Because of his support of the king in the English civil war, he was imprisoned for a total of 8 months (2 months in 1642 and 6 months in 1648-1649). He wrote the poem you quote from, called, “To Althea, from Prison” during his 2-month imprisonment, when he was 24 years old.
There is a saying - only you can make yourself happy. No one else can do it for you.
As George said and the others reiterated, your attitude will be the leading force in your life. I choose to wake up each morning and thank God for giving me another day. I celebrate each birthday because I made it another year! I am blessed with wonderful friends and co-workers (yes, at 72 I still work full time!) and though I have no family members living in my state, we call, text and Facebook with each other. I'm living my own life, doing what makes me happy. I only have to please me now. I used to have to please my parents, my husband and my children, and loved to do so. It brought me happiness at those points in my life. I've reached another plateau almost four years after losing my husband and six years after losing one daughter. I finally enjoy having time alone! I can read, play games on my iPad, watch something on TV, listen to music, etc. (Of course, after working all day, then an hour of water aerobics before coming home, I generally end up falling asleep in my recliner about 9 and wake up about 11 and go to bed!)
For the first two years after Dave died, I traveled a lot. Most weekends and four day vacations, or a week vacation. I needed to get away from the house and memories of watching Dave slowly fade away in the hospital bed in our house. It took three years before I could remember him as he was before AD. BUT, I made myself have happy times during those three years. We had 50 years together, and were happy, and though I've lost him, I have good memories to call up, while I make something of myself and discover the "new" or "revised" me. The organizer in me that was always at the forefront because time was so important to get everything done, and now is no longer necessary. I'm free to do what I want when I want - and I used the phrase "I'm flexible" so much that people were saying it back to me! <grin>
We only have so many years left on this planet, and I plan to make the most of them. I'm still learning about myself, but I'm happy, and like Elizabeth, trying to lose weight and get healthier. We are even young enough to have another career! Look at Grandma Moses!
It's not easy being happy. As Mary* said-it's now up to us to find happiness and to be happy. After too many dementia years at least I am now content with my life.No point in dwelling on what should have been.For me doing or not doing stuff at my convenience is good.
I don't understand why anyone would expect someone else to make them happy or who exactly that other person would be.
As far as making myself happy, right now I don't have time to do that. Between working full time, visiting my husband 6 days a week, and keeping the bills paid and the house in order, finding happiness is way down on the list. However, getting almost everything done does give me a sense of accomplishment, and being with my husband, even in his diminished state, comforts me. So right now, that will have to substitute for happiness.
If I had my druthers, I would clean and repaint the trim in the bathroom, take rides in the country, and spend a few hours in the garden. I was going to do the last item this afternoon but I just got a work-related call that has made me cancel my gardening plans.
I've enjoyed reading everyone's comments here. And thank you Myrtle. You are so right. I need to find a better example of a prisoner who led a happy life while in prison. Maybe the Birdman of Alcatraz. As I remember the movie, He wouldn't leave Alcatraz even after his friends got him a pardon because he loved his birds and wanted to stay with them.
Thanks again, everyone, for sharing your comments....GeorgieBoy