I have been busy trying to change gears with Frankly Speaking: Alzheimer’s in order to develop the business more intensely now that I’m not caregiving and needing to tape my entire life.  I’m taking a business class, finishing up a six-month screenplay writing class, dubbing and transcribing all of my footage (over 200 hours!)… all in an effort to help get my movie to the big screen as soon as possible and help other caregivers around the world desperately in need of support and guidance.

Here are my thoughts while on my way home from business class tonight:

I am proud of all that we accomplished at the Alzheimer’s Association Race For Your Memories event.  We had the support of a LOT of friends and family, as always.  I know that the teamwork is something that my Daddy-O would REALLY be proud of!  🙂

Here is my brother, Frank Jr.’s, email recapping the event:

Greetings all!

Well the Alzheimer’s Association’s “Race for Your Memories” was Sunday and, if my Dad was still around, he would be calling me a “cake”!  “Cake” is a term of endearment in our family that translates into “you’re a wimp”.  One of the unstated rules in our family of doing a run is that you actually “run” the whole race.  Well, I was not able to do that Sunday.  (Here come all the excusesJ)  It was hot, the course was hilly and I trained on flat ground, and I started off too fast by running 9 minute miles for the first 2 miles.  I had made it about 4.5 miles when we encountered a big uphill climb.  My legs already felt like tree stumps as I started the hill.  And by the time I was half way up my legs had nothing left, my head was throbbing and I felt like I might pass out.  So as much as I did not want to do it, I ended up walking for a short distance to get up the hill and regain some energy.  I then ran for about another mile when we came to the biggest, steepest hill on the course (who in their right mind would put this at the 5.5 mile mark of a 6.2 mile race?).  I told the person I was running with I couldn’t do it and he said “bull sh*t, you’re going to do it”.  So I kept going and I did make it up the hill.  However, I then needed another walk to regain myself before we ran the last quarter mile to the finish line.

I had a number of goals for the race:

  1. To complete the race – Some might say I completed it, but in my mind I did not as walking didn’t count between my Dad and me.
  2. To finish in under an hour, or 9:41 per mile – I actually finished in 1:02:36, or 10:06 per mile.
  3. Team Firek finish as #1 in donations received – We finished as the #1 team with $2,375 in donations.  The #2 team had $1,483.
  4. My mom and I finish #1 and #2 in donations raised per individual – At the time of the race start my mom was #1 and I was #3.
  5. To have 30 members on Team Firek – We ended up with at least 33.  Some people registered the morning of the event and I may have missed one or two here.

Thank you all for your support of the Alzheimer’s Association and of Team Firek!

NOTE:  I know my Dad would be proud of what we did here.  But I still owe him a complete 10K and I will be doing that in the next month or so.  I just need to find another 10K run in the area and keep up my training.  And I WILL run the entire race and break 1 hour this time!

FYI:  Origins of the word “Cake”.  The exact details are a little fuzzy, but it goes something like this.  My dad was out for a run once when I was a kid and as he was running a large dog came barking and running towards him from the porch of a house.  My dad picked up a rock in case he needed it if the dog attacked.  But the owner called off the dog before he got to my dad and then started yelling at my dad for picking up the rock and he called my dad a cake.  My dad said “You think I’m a cake.  Let’s see you run 3 miles and then we’ll see who’s a cake!”  And after that, “cake” became part of our family vocabulary.

Frank Firek, Jr.

I’ve plunged back into the working world as of 3 days ago and find myself moving along at a fairly decent clip, all considered.

Prior to that, I was like a wounded animal limping through the haze.  Those first few weeks after losing Daddy-O were foggy, painful and just plain surreal.  It’s weird when your world instantly loses one of its constant beacons; you lose your way and have to numbly find your way back to reality – albeit a new, revised reality.  And then you have to get used to that new place.

Nine days after the funeral, during this hazy process, my roommate and I escaped to Vegas for a quick getaway.  Quite frankly, looking forward to that trip actually helped me get through the funeral proceedings in the first place.  Then, once in Vegas, I distinctly felt myself disconnect from the regular drama of my life, and I was thankful for the tangible, much welcomed and much deserved break.  I figured I would get back to mourning a few days later once I touched back down in Detroit.

Surprisingly, though, back in Detroit, I discovered that I had healed a lot between Vegas and home.  Maybe it was the onslaught of neon lights and casino noise or the cool drinks and cloudless skies or simply the fact that I was nowhere near home and so no one knew I was mourning.  Whatever it was, I was able to act normal and literally be carefree for the first time in years!  It was an amazing sensation.

When I returned home to Detroit I found myself shocked – and then saddened – when I realized I had actually somehow recovered beyond my expectations in that one short weekend.  I suppose that after 3 years of pre-mourning the loss of my dad, I was somehow, somewhere deep inside, more prepared to move on than I thought.

That’s not to say that I don’t miss him LIKE CRAZY and sometimes still cry when I think about him!  The difference I’m speaking of is that I can talk about him sometimes without crying – which, I believe, is quite an amazing feet.

When I consider that my family and I could have been dealing with my father having this horrible disease for another DECADE – like millions of families do! – it absolutely blows my mind.  I have NO idea how people survive years and decades of this heart-wrenching disease.  I suppose that’s exactly why 40-percent of Alzheimer’s caregivers die before their failing loved ones.  I mean, seriously, WHO can take all that??

What I have now is scattered feelings: I feel blessed to have been Frank’s daughter, I feel sad because I miss him, and I feel lucky to have been released from this madness.

I find myself listening to oldies music at every possible opportunity – in the shower, in the car, while working.  The music feels like my last tangible connection to him.  Like, if I just smile big enough… and sing loud enough… and think happy thoughts enough, maybe Daddy-O will shine down on me, smile, and dance back…

(NOTE: Frankly Speaking: Alzheimer’s subscribers didn’t receive an email alert upon my last blog entry a few days ago for some reason.  If interested in reading that entry, scroll down one entry on my website to read my dad’s amazing eulogy as delivered by my cousin, Karrie [McLean] Martin.)

FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS:  Viewing: Monday, May 3, 1-8 PM.  Funeral service with Military Honors: Tuesday, May 4, 10 AM.  Location: The Heeney-Sundquist Funeral Home, downtown Farmington (www.heeney-sundquist.com).

Suggested memorial tributes to Alzheimer’s Association – Greater Michigan Chapter (www.alz.org/gmc) or for use in completing the movie, Frankly Speaking: Alzheimer’s™ – The Documentary (www.FranklySpeakingAlz.com).

(Real-time Entry)

Somehow the air seems so still these past few days.  A fog shrouds me at times, but inspiration from my dad forces me to keep moving and take action.

(Real time entry)

It’s 11am Saturday morning and Dad has been “sleeping” for 38 hours now.  He fell asleep at 9pm Thursday and we haven’t had an interaction with him since.

…But WHAT a last day we had!  J  Daddy-O just couldn’t stop dancing and giving all of his visitors one last amazing day!  How he was STILL going and able to stand (sometimes for 40 minutes at a time!!) with no food or drink for 4 days… what an amazing spirit he is!

Sparky is by his side.

(Real-time Entry)

I never even got to blog about the birthday trip I had 2 weeks ago!  To give us both a long-needed break, Mom whisked me and her off for my gift, a “Surprise 40th Birthday Trip”– destination unknown!  She told me what to pack but it wasn’t until arriving in Miami that I discovered we were going on a 4-night cruise to Key West and Cozumel!  She also surprised me on my actual birthday with snorkeling/swimming with the stingrays!!  I thought that was a VERY COOL WAY to ring in the new decade!  Her and I look so relaxed and happy in our vacation pictures – it’s been a long time since either of us have been at that level of relaxation and pure enjoyment.

When Mom and I returned home tanned and rested, we drove right from the airport to see Dad at Courtyard Manner… and the Alzheimer’s ride continued FULL FORCE!  Just that morning around 5am… he had smashed out his bedroom window… with his head!  He had cuts and scrapes all over his head and arms and was quite the site.  We even noticed that he’d lost MORE weight just in the short 5 days we had been gone.

Fast forward to last Wednesday (6 days ago)… his head wounds still haven’t healed and totally disappeared.  The hospice nurse referred to this phenomenon as “skin breakdown”.  She said that since he is barely eating or drinking anymore, his body is using all of its available energy to focus on keeping his organs alive.  Apparently, skin reparation is the step his body is now ignoring out of natural necessity.  He also regularly has new scratches on his limbs and back from scratching himself so we are trying to keep his nails short for his own safety.

When I hug him, I usually announce, “I have a hug for you…”, and then while embrace he shrugs his shoulders to hug me back and oftentimes mumbles, “MmmmmmmMmmmmmm…”  🙂  You get head nods for answers sometimes, and sometimes he even pleasantly surprises you with opening his eyes or kissing you on the lips!  A little bit a mumbling/talking a little bit of the time, but not much for speech anymore.

This past Saturday he refused all food and drink for the first time, then Sunday he rallied (see videos below), and Monday (yesterday) he was back to no food or drink.

But how special that Frank Jr. and I have that wonderful Sunday night memory!!  Dad really came out to play!  Way to rally, Daddy-O!

…Today, just 2 days later, Dad is bed-bound, having a hard time swallowing his natural saliva.  He experienced some seizures today while sleeping.  Vallium has now been ordered (he started Morphine Thursday) along with a directive that NOTHING be given by mouth anymore for his own good.  We are bedside full of love…

(Real-time Entry)

Life goes on for the family outside of Dad’s 4-walls, but we always get back to him as soon as humanly possible and we are spending a lot of time there this past week.

In an effort to squeeze in meaningful visits and let him know he’s not alone, my immediate family has begun taking shifts around the clock at Dad’s home. I personally believe that Dad knows how much he is surrounded by love, even if he is sometimes physically alone, but there is no harm in someone being there all the time to speak lovingly to him and hold his hand or scratch his back.

Some loving cousins and uncles have volunteered to take shifts in order to help out, which makes me realize that I should mention to everyone out there that if you’d like to visit Dad, please just let me know.  This would allow one of us to take a break.

Of course, you never know how long this process will take and so we’re just doing what we can – from the bottom of our hearts.  I do truly believe my dad is still steering his own ship and he’ll let US know when it’s time.  🙂

P.S. Another blog entry with more video to come tonight…

I am too emotional and strapped for time to edit this video down to be any shorter than it currently is, let alone even add one dissolve to it.

An intervention of fate?… I dropped my camera and my lens cracked this week – but I videotaped the events as they unfolded nonetheless, cracked lens and all!