One of the things that I have learned, while dealing with FTD, is to learn to recognize and appreciate the little things. It isn't long until a few little things add up and can actually be uplifting. Sometimes, though, you have to dig kind of deep to find them.
I like coffee. I absolutely love lattes. A few days ago, it was time for our car to receive it's state inspection. I went along with my husband because he gets so easily confused. After dashing into the service desk, I managed to get the paperwork done before he came in and confused everything. We walked into the waiting area and sat down. He got up and went to the bathroom. He got up and went out to the showroom to look at the cars. He got up and checked out all the magazines. One of the other women started laughing, then apologized and said she knew it wasn't funny, but that her husband does the same thing. Her sharing that relaxed me because I realized that we were not being judged unkindly. She suggested I have a cup of coffee and relax. I went over to the coffee counter and low and behold, they have added a new coffee system that makes fairly decent lattes. Such a treat! They certainly were not Starbucks quality, but pretty darned good. So I sat with my new "friend" and chatted over lattes until the car was ready. My husband eventually settled down into an easy chair with a magazine. I didn't really have to dig deep to find that good thing and it always makes my day when someone makes a kind gesture. I'm sure she had no idea what a good thing she did.
Thursdays are typically our errand day. We try to group them into one day to eliminate car trips. Three good things happened this particular Thursday. First, we stopped at CVS to buy some vitamins. Of course the ones we needed were on the very bottom shelf that was even with the floor. They were mixed up, so I knelt down on the floor and successfully found what we needed. Every once in a while, my FTD brain does not get the correct signal to my legs and they will not move properly. Of course, it picked then to do it. I tried to get up using my cane. I tried to get up with the cane and my husband providing support. I did not want to push up on the store shelves, because I figured they might not be strong enough. I finally crawled to the waiting area by the pharmacy (fortunately we were only about 10 feet from it) and pushed myself up using my arms. Once my feet hit the floor and I stood still for a minute or so, my legs moved properly. I exercise my legs every day, so it was not a strength issue and knowing that helped me to not be as embarrassed as I could have. The good thing was that two employees came out from behind the prescription counter to see if they could help. They even offered to take me to the car in a wheel chair. They were so kind and gentle with me, that it renewed my faith that there are still good people in the world.
By a stroke of luck, our next stop was to my chiropractor who did a great job untwisting my back after the incident at CVS. She and I are friends and I am friendly with the other chiropractor as well. I must digress here. One of the only crafty-type things I can still do (hard to take when I used to be an artist), is to crochet nylon net scrubbies. These things are amazing, they scrub anything without scratching and they last a long, long time. I can still make them because they are also very forgiving when I make them and mistakes don't show. I had given them each several a couple years ago at Christmas. They had never commented on them, so I didn't know if they had appreciated them or not. Then that day, they both started asking if I still made them or could I and could they get some. Can they get some? I believe they can. I give them away all the time and still had about 100 on hand. So next time I go in, they get a big bag full. It frustrates me so much that I can no longer do the artwork that I used to do and often get angry at FTD for stealing those abilities. Their raving about my stupid little scrubbies and begging for them made me feel better about myself than you can imagine. It's a little thing but made me realize I can still do something worthwhile!
Another stop was at our local pharmacy to pick up a prescription refill for my husband. I was exhausted (we had already made six stops during this trip) so I asked him to go inside by himself. They know us well there, so I knew if he got confused, they would help him. While he was inside, a woman said hello to him. He could not remember her name, but did remember she was from our church and used to be a librarian. She is very active in the women's group that I still try to attend. She asked him about me and he told her that we were parked around the corner and up half a block. She came out, practically skipping, with a big smile on her face. She seemed genuinely happy to see me and stood outside our car, in the wind and cold, chatting for about ten minutes. Like so many of us with FTD have discovered, friends and family disappear from our lives as though they think it is contagious. While she did not say "Hey, how about I pick you up one day and we can go to lunch?" she seemed genuinely happy to see me and getting caught up a bit.
These were all "little things" and years ago, before FTD, I probably would not have thought anything about these or things like them. Like I said, I had to dig a little deep to recognize them and to allow myself to feel uplifted and I did. I am sure none of these people, looking back on their day, thought "Gee, I did a good thing for Cindy today!" but they certainly did. When I added up those four seemingly small things, these people really made my day and put a smile on my face.
Whether you have FTD or are a caregiver, try searching for those little blessings. Maybe you saw a robin in your yard and realized that Spring is not too far away. Maybe you watched a squirrel bounce around the yard, or the sunset was pretty or just that someone went a little out of their way to help you with something. Maybe you just got a 30 minute respite. When FTD has stolen so many good things from our lives, if we pay attention, just maybe, we can find enough little things to add up to a big good thing.
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