Age is just a number.

I walked by the fashionable little ski apparel store and noticed a cool sweater that I thought my wife would love. Thinking I would score major points if I brought home a great gift I entered the shop.

I was greeted by an elderly woman who stood ramrod straight and was very pleasant. She showed me around the store and gave an advertisement on each piece. I asked her if she ever skied? She smiled and said, "Yes, going up to Park City next week." Wow, I thought in my mind, she must be her late 70’s but is in great shape.

I naively started asking questions about her activity, "Do you ski all day?" "Why yes," she said. "Do you ski on steep slopes?" I found myself making an assumption about her that her age should equal her ability. She then said, "Well actually, I am racing. I am in a downhill slalom race. People say I shouldn’t still race at my age but I love it and have been doing it for over 60 years." My jaw dropped, still I wanted to peg her age to her ability. She said, "Well I get up to 70-80mph when going fast." "Don’t you worry about getting hurt." I muttered. "Well I broke a finger in 54 but am more careful now." I was stunned.

Later I met a mutual friend who knows her. He said she was 82 and was a ski instructor in Sun Valley for 40 years. She is still one of the fastest racers in the Masters class.

I love writing about people who don't see age as a qualifier to living life... my bad.

My Visit With The Duchess

Having dinner with the Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson was surreal. In part because she is so real. She is like your friend from college who you don’t see often but feel like you talk to everyday. She knows what is important to her and that is saving children in the world from bad people and poor treatment. She risks her own safety and at times comforts to help children all over the globe who have nothing more in common then their youth.

Let the press write all they want about her life in England with the royal family. She is a modern day hero and she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. She just knows deep inside she is doing the right thing.

The Duchess toured an Aegis community and so loved our residents. I thought about bringing mom to see her but it is so hard getting her out. I didn’t want the Duchess to see mom as she is but rather know her through the stories I told of her. Mom so loved Fergie, they would have had a great chat.

Deep Sleep

I wanted to see mom as it had been two weeks since traveling out of the country. I had dreamt about her the night before. I walked in and she said, “Good to see you my son, you look good, have you lost weight.” The have you lost weight part was a standard greeting in our house. It was like “Hello, would you like something to drink…..but instead it was "Hello, have you lost weight?” I think my family thought it was a compliment, it just reminded me that I needed to lose weight.

So I find mom, asleep in her chair, I try all my best techniques, I call out to her in her childhood name…”Callou, it’s Dwayne are you there?” Thinking she would capture her childhood name in the caverns of her long term memory. No response. Then I tried humor. ”Mom, it is Dwayne your favorite, youngest, male son whose name is Dwayne.” No response. Then I tried to bribe her,"Mom I brought you cheesecake and curry and rice.” But still no response.

She looked to be in a deep sleep. The crevices of her face puffing in and out as I heard the breaths brushing through her lips. I steady her face, her lips look slightly blueish. My mind wanders as I wonder if she will never say my name again, even “My Son.” She wakes and mumbles something, her eyes pop open for 2 seconds and then slowly close as if on an automated hinge.

I grab her hand and warm it with mine, she so loved this when she was cold. For now she sleeps and dreams of a better life and I dream of where this will all lead.

Christmas Dilemma

As we approach Christmas, I always wonder how to deal with honoring my mom. Mom has become almost impossible to transfer in and out of the car. Her bones, muscles and skin are fragile and hurt when we try to get her out of her wheelchair.

The past four years mom has spent Christmas at my house. Even though her communication diminished it was great having her energy in the kitchen with me. We would put on Christmas music and I would wheel her in while I was cooking and ask her what I should do to spice things up? Almost always the answer was, "add more salt." Sometimes I would give her a bite of something and she would stick her tongue out after swallowing or make a face like I just fed her mud.

As mom's dementia has progressed she has become more anxious being out of her home. As dark approaches, she goes from quiet to irritable as the famous Sundowners manifests. She becomes scared and nervous.

Christmas has always been a huge event in our family and one to share with loved ones. But this year, I have to sit back and wonder if my desire to have mom at my home is more my comfort than hers. She is after all not comfortable traveling in a car, not comfortable in my house and not comfortable after dark. My emotions vacillate between being a good son and a selfish one.

There is no clear choice. Which often happens when making decisions about this terrible disease.

It makes Christmas a little less joyous this year.

The Courage to Visit

Many of you have requested that I update you on my mother and her progress since her surgery. Unfortunately, she has regressed back to the condition before the surgery. She is sleeping most of the day, talking very little and extremely confused.

It felt so good when she was happy and talking in the hospital. She was having conversations, laughing, recognizing her children and seeming her old self. I held onto that vision and as I heard she was slipping back to her deteriorated state I couldn't not bring myself to go and visit her. One week, two, three, then four weeks and finally after seven weeks I worked up the courage to go and see her. My daughter went with me as a motivator to make sure I completed the visit. We bought her favorites, carrot cake, chocolate mousse and pumpkin pie, to bribe her. Mom has started to lose weight again so it is not about healthy eating but about calories and weight gain at this point. So ironic a family and who has been obsessed with losing weight their whole lives is now worried about gaining weight. Be careful what you pray for.

When we entered the Aegis community I put on my happy face as staff greeted me. Mom looked good, her hair done and make-up on, this would be so important to her. She was sitting in the lobby, listening to entertainment, but she was listening with her eyes closed.

We wheeled her off to the activities room to have some quiet time. My daughter said, "Gram we brought you some carrot cake, yours and Dad's favorite." There is a running joke in my family. My mom bought me carrot cake for my high school graduation, only problem is I hate carrot cake. When I told her, "mom you know I hate carrot cake," she responded, "ButI love it." That was mom.

We tried to carry on a conversation but mom just had a blank stare, processing us as if to find the file that matched our faces to the memory. We asked her questions, hoping, praying for some type of response. The best we got was a shake of the head and an "uh ha." To our delight she gobbled up the carrot cake and my feeding her was not fast enough, she pulled off chunks of the cream cheese frosting and popped them in her mouth.

When she would come to a piece of carrot or a nut that she didn't like she would spit it out on the floor, like a farmer with a wad of chewing tobacco. This is so not my mom, an English woman with a proud background, manners were always so important. But in a way, there is innocence with this disease. No pretense, no political correctness, you are who you are, not who you are supposed to be.

We talked and tried to make mom laugh. The simple things you yearn for when you don't have them anymore. My daughter got engaged two weeks ago and she said to me, "Dad, one thing that I am most sad about is that I couldn't call and share the moment with Gram." The pain of those words shot through me as I thought my tears were going to flow. As I fought back my emotions, I realized how many things this disease steals from people, the essence of life and joy.

Mom polished off her carrot cake and some of the other desserts. We wheeled her in for dinner. As we were leaving, I bent down and kissed her and told her, "I love you." "I Love You," she said, clear as day.

Some things this disease can't steal.

Captured Memories

When my mom moved out of her home and into Aegis we were offered some of her things. It is funny what has sentimental value to you. The only thing I cared for was a tall mirror that has two little pictures inset in the top with some sort of Chinese ceremony. It wasn't the material aspect of the mirror so much as the reflection of what it represented. It was a storybook of my youth.

I remember standing in front of the mirror as I marched off to 5th grade, taking a second and third glance, admiring my new terrycloth hoody. I remember putting on my football uniform and making mean faces in the mirror to practice invoking my terror strategy. I remember standing in front of it as my mom snapped homecoming photos of my date and me in our splendid attire.

It was as if that mirror captured moments of time in my life. My life with my mom. When I look at it I see her, I see what used to be. That mirror has so many different reflections.

R E S P E C T

I think it was Aretha Franklin who sang the song R-E-S-P-E-C-T, but until you go to Japan you have no idea the true meaning of the word.

We were fortunate to dine in a great restaurant with a Michelin Chef. He told us a story about a Japanese businessman who came into his well respected restaurant and said he had a bad meal. The businessman wrote a letter to the hotel GM telling how bad the meal was and how it offended his guests. He suggested the remedy was for the Chef and his staff to come to his business and apologize in front of his employees.

The Chef met with the businessman in his office. He said when the door closed the meeting was very cordial and polite and the businessman offered no criticism. The main issue was the fact that his staff saw the Chef come to apologize.

I don't think I will be waiting for any restaurateurs to make an appearance in my office after I have a bad meal. Needless to say, I found the service in Japan to be extraordinary.