The day to day report.....Today...

This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24 NASB

“It’s a beautiful day!” Not a surprising statement emanating from Arizona in January, with mid-70’s temps and gorgeous blue skies, but this particular pronouncement came today from my wife Karen. In fact, it came about thirty times today (I know I should not count and usually don’t, but since this has taken on meaning I took the time today to tally). Over the past three months or so, Karen will spontaneously announce that “it’s a beautiful day”, each repetition offered with the same joy and vigor of the first. And I have noticed that it can be cloudy, muggy (rare here), rainy (even less common), windy, calm, dusty, just about anything but really hot, which we haven’t seen much of anyway since this phrase has risen in the charts to the top of the oft-repeated statements that characterize dementia at this stage. Karen’s assessment of a “beautiful day” is apparently not determined by climatological events.

Our series of beautiful days stretches back to November, when as usual I started noticing my own seasonal dulling due to shortened daylight. My father passed away suddenly on Thanksgiving evening, after his own beautiful day of having time with our older daughter and our grandkids in Texas. We therefore had an unexpected immediate trip to tend to funeral and initial estate issues, ten beautiful but bittersweet days; travel is hard for Karen as every environment other than our own little condo is totally new and foreign. Upon return home we found ourselves wanting/needing to make another previously unplanned trip to Florida for Karen’s mom’s 90^th birthday, the first time that Karen had seen her sister and parents in two years. In spite of the trials and changes that are developing in that part of our extended family, those too were beautiful days. Christmas was a blur, and I truthfully was grateful that our beautiful birthdays (Christmas Eve, me; New Year’s Eve, Karen) went by quickly and uneventfully. I did try to make Karen’s birthday beautiful with a bountiful meal of her favorite food (shrimp; she would have them for breakfast if I made them available), but all efforts were forgotten after ten minutes. Karen’s assessment of a “beautiful day” is apparently not determined by gastronomical events.

2012 has ushered in its own set of beautiful days: Karen had started showing some swelling of her legs, ankles, and feet over the pre-Christmas time, thought to be due to some medication reaction and initially addressed as such. Then she started losing weight (cannot possibly be blamed on the cook) in spite of a rather voracious appetite. Her heart rate is greater than 100 at rest, and the tremor that she has had to a mild degree worsened to the point where it has been difficult for her to handle a spoon and fork. Even the most junior of medical students on a non-beautiful day would think “thyroid” with that set of symptoms, but it took several visits to several doctors on several beautiful days to finally get the appropriate studies drawn, which quickly were reported consistent with significant hyperthyroidism, most likely Grave’s disease. Medicines have been started to try to suppress the overactive gland, but the definitive treatment (surgery or radioactive iodine) won’t be decided until we see the endocrinologist, that visit scheduled next week.

Topping all of the above: one of the doctors saw the swollen legs and ordered studies to make sure no blood clots were present; results: bilateral femoral vein thromboses, the beautiful name for potentially lethal blood clots deep within the major veins of both legs. She was immediately placed on injectable blood thinner (shots into the abdomen morning and night, bracketing each otherwise beautiful day; I did my best, got better as we went along, but since she could not remember the events, each session was a new painful introduction to why a psychiatrist shouldn’t give injections). Now she is on Coumadin, and there is less risk that the clots could break loose and cause an immediate crisis. Of note: the leg, ankle, and foot swelling and redness are probably from the thyroid disease (“pretibial myxedema” for you medical word buffs) so finding the clots was “serendipitous” (read: Providential), more evidence that God keeps track of all the details.

So, these have been our beautiful days. Throughout it all, Karen has not consistently complained of anything other than frustration at not being able to use a spoon. I am finding that by Karen’s definition, each day, each moment is beautiful, unclouded by memory of illness or pain or worry, undimmed by any fear of what is to come. I had become weary of responding to each time hearing her say it, but lately have begun to see that through Karen’s forgetfulness and constant repetition of this phrase, God is reminding me that I have forgotten things, too. I had forgotten that the God from whom I have sought relief and healing for Karen is the same God that has allowed these things to happen for a greater purpose than I can fathom. I had forgotten that while He allows things that make me grieve, He gives me precious memories of father and family. I had forgotten that while I am feeling overwhelmed by trying to deal with the next new episode of illness, that He is protecting Karen, and me, from catastrophic change even as He arranges for “serendipitous” diagnoses. And I had forgotten that beautiful days are not defined by the circumstances of the moment.

At each doctor visit, each blood test, each ultrasound, even the non-medical visits to church or grocery store, the nurse, doctor, technician, whoever may not yet know what Karen is going through, usually greets her with the standard question: “How are you feeling?”

And my wife, the woman who cannot recall the pain of the last visit or the potential discomfort of the next, who cannot connect a familiar face with any useful recognition, who is at the same time both trapped and liberated by her illness to be only able to see each day as beautiful, this wife of mine always, always, always answers the same way:

“Blessed to be here!”

I trust and pray that we will all see the beauty in this day.Rejoice, be glad in it, and drop us a note; it is good to hear from friends….

Barney, for Karen too

barneydavis@gmail.com