🎵 “Reasons I Drink” – EOA The Little Things That Make Me Lose My Damn Mind (Alanis Morissette)
There are the big things about Alzheimer's.
The diagnosis.
The grief.
The future.
The money.
The fear.
The loss.
And then...
There are the glasses, the ring, the phone, the remote.
Recently---He lost his glasses again.
This is now pair number four in two years.
And these aren't $12 readers from Walgreens.
Nooooo.
These are approximately $700 prescription glasses that apparently enter some sort of Alzheimer's Bermuda Triangle and are never seen again.
At this point, I'm starting to think there's a squirrel somewhere in our backyard wearing progressive lenses.
But the glasses aren't even my favorite lost-item story.
That honor goes to...
💍 The Tale of the Two Oura Rings
We both got Oura rings.
And honestly, it was great.
I could see how he was sleeping. We could track activity. We had a little exercise competition going.
It was something we could still do together.
Then one day I noticed:
No data.
I asked where his ring was.
"It's charging."
Okay.
Day two.
Still no data.
Now I'm suspicious.
I look at the charger.
No ring.
I look at his finger.
Obviously...
No ring.
And we hadn't even gone anywhere.
So naturally, I begin what every Alzheimer's caregiver eventually becomes extraordinarily proficient at:
🔎 THE WHOLE DAMN HOUSE SEARCH
Move the bed.
Shake out the sheets.
Check pockets.
Check drawers.
Check laundry.
Look under furniture.
Check the bathroom.
Check the charger again, because apparently I think the ring may have returned there while
I wasn't looking.
Nothing.
This was also before Oura added better location-finding features, so I had nothing to work with.
After several DAYS of this, Rob finally says:
"I lost it."
Oh.
You lost it?
THANK YOU, SHERLOCK.
😂
I assumed it had been accidentally thrown away or was somewhere along the bike trail, living its best little $399 life in the woods.
Fine.
Gone.
Except Rob wanted another one.
"Hey, I need another ring."
Ummmm.
Let's give it a minute.
Because by this point we'd also lost approximately three pairs of $700 prescription glasses, and I was beginning to learn an important Alzheimer's financial lesson:
Expensive things and dementia may no longer be compatible.
🎂 But Then I Caved
March comes around.
It's his birthday.
And I think:
You know what?
He really liked that ring.
He exercised with it.
He looked at his numbers.
It motivated him.
So the kids, the in-laws and I made the new-generation Oura ring his group birthday present.
Another $399.
I even bought him the black one like mine.
Now we matched.
Like little wedding bands.
Insert enormous eye roll here.
But he was happy.
I was happy.
All was right with the world again.
For approximately...
48 hours.
🚢 And Then We Got on a Cruise
A day or two after his birthday, we boarded a quick cruise out of Tampa.
We got on early, *thanks to quick boarding for disability....and I went down to the cruise desk to take care of something.
When I came back, Rob and my daughter were sitting there.
And Rob says:
"Hey! I found your ring!"
My ring?
I look at my hand.
My ring is literally on my finger.
Then he holds up...
A large.
Men's.
SILVER OURA RING.
I just stared at it.
The original ring.
The ring we had searched the entire house for.
The ring I assumed had been thrown away.
The ring whose replacement was currently sitting ON HIS FINGER.
Apparently, the missing ring had spent the past several months...
IN HIS MURSE.
Yes.
His murse.
It's just a little men's travel pouch where I keep his cords, ID and miscellaneous stuff when we travel.
And there it was.
Living peacefully.
Waiting.
Probably laughing at me.
Two days after we bought the new $399 ring.
And...
These are the reasons I drink. (I just walked out to the balcony door and sat down)
Except I don't really drink.
But if I did?
THIS WOULD BE WHY.
👓 And Now We're Back to the Glasses
Which brings us to today.
Pair number four. (I ahve since found 1 pair in the garage)
Gone.
And here's where Alzheimer's caregiving gets weird.
Because losing glasses isn't tragic.
Losing a ring isn't tragic.
Leaving something in a ridiculous place isn't tragic.
In the grand scheme of what we're dealing with?
Who cares?
Except...
I CARE.
😂
Because I'm the person who has to find it.
I'm the person who replaces it.
I'm the person who calls the eye doctor.
I'm the person who searches the house.
I'm the person moving beds and emptying drawers and checking pockets.
I'm the person thinking:
Where could he POSSIBLY have put this?
And here's the answer:
Anywhere.
Literally.
Anywhere.
Because the rules of where objects logically belong no longer necessarily apply.
😵💫 It's Never Just the Glasses
This is the part people outside caregiving don't always understand.
Someone might say:
"It's just a pair of glasses."
Yes.
It is.
But it's the glasses...
After answering the same question six times.
After reminding him about the appointment.
After finding the wet towel.
After fixing whatever got moved.
After checking whether he took his medication.
After looking for the phone.
After looking for the wallet.
After looking for the OTHER thing we literally just had.
It's death by a thousand tiny inconveniences.
And sometimes the thing that finally makes you lose your shit isn't Alzheimer's.
It's...
WHERE ARE YOUR FUCKING GLASSES?
❤️ And Yes, I Know He Can't Help It
This is the complicated part.
I know.
I know his brain is damaged.
I know memory is failing.
I know executive function is changing.
I know he isn't deliberately hiding $700 glasses around the greater Tampa Bay area just to screw with me.
Knowing why something happens doesn't magically make it less irritating.
Both things can be true:
He can't help it.
AND
It's driving me absolutely fucking crazy.
Caregivers are allowed to feel both.
💡 So Now I'm Learning
Alzheimer's is slowly changing what I'm willing to spend money on.
Expensive sunglasses?
Nope.
Fancy wallet?
Probably not.
Anything tiny, removable and worth hundreds of dollars?
We're going to need to discuss that purchase.
I'm learning to:
Put things in the same place.
Label things.
Use trackers where possible.
Keep backups.
Buy less-expensive versions when it makes sense.
And accept that occasionally something is simply going to disappear into the Alzheimer's
Dimension.
Maybe it comes back.
Maybe it doesn't.
Maybe you'll find it six months later...
in the murse.
🎵 Why “Reasons I Drink”
This post isn't really about drinking.
It's about the tiny things that make caregivers feel completely irrational.
The things that aren't tragic enough to cry about.
Not serious enough to call the neurologist about.
Not important enough to explain to anyone.
But somehow...
they're the things that make you want to scream.
And sometimes you've got to laugh.
Because if you don't?
Well...
Apparently Alanis has another suggestion.
I'll stick with Diet Coke. 😂
💬 Disclaimer: Keep in mind, I am writing this blog over years, not in one day- I repeat some things, but because it became more applicable today. I’m not a doctor, lawyer, therapist, or expert—just a wife trying to figure this out one day at a time. Everythi
ng shared here is based on our experience and things that have helped us along the way. Take what helps, leave what doesn’t, and always check with professionals when needed. I also use AI to help clean up my writing, organize thoughts, and pull together resources because honestly… caregiver brains are tired too. If something here helps another family feel less alone, then it’s worth sharing.
Comments