By Lisa Cerasoli
Five Star Publications, Inc., 186 pgs
Submitted by the author
As Nora Jo Fades Away by Lisa Cerasoli will take your breath away, either from pain or laughing your ass off, one or the other. Humor is required, both coping mechanism and self-defense. I admit a certain bias: I, along with my stepmother and sister, was a caregiver for my father during the last fifteen months of his life. Like Nora Jo, he suffered from a certain amount of dementia, along with a long list of health problems, complications and the occasional (increasingly frequent) crisis. It was the best thing I've ever done and I am eternally grateful to my stepmother for allowing me to be there, for wanting me to be present. Witnessing is important. A lot of relationships don't survive such stresses. The relationships that do survive are sometimes damaged but sometimes the fire forges something stronger from the flames. I think that's what my stepmother and sister and I have now. Steel.
|Nora Josephine Cerasoli|
Every single night in bed I lay with eyes wide open, listening like a guard on graveyard shift at the state penitentiary waiting for a prison break. I took my job that seriously. There'd be a snore. Is she choking? A wheeze. Did she stop breathing? A creek. Crap, is she trying to get up? Is she going to fall again? And who's going to stop talking to me NEXT over all this rigmarole?Nora Jo kept odd hours, almost flipping her days and nights. It's one o'clock in the afternoon why hasn't anyone made coffee yet? On the other hand, half the day is gone so forget the coffee, why not a brandy instead? New sign pasted to the microwave door: 'No beer cans or silverware in the microwave. Thanks.' She wouldn't remember eating and her brain had lost the connection to the stomach that tells you that you are full. So rail-thin Nora Jo eats, a lot. The Iraqis poisoned the lettuce, the proof of which was that she had to throw it away. Failure to identify everyday household objects: why is there a jar of twenty tweezers in the bathroom?
This is the quote that heads chapter one:
There's only one man I've ever loved. We met when I was fourteen and we were married for sixty-seven years. What the hell was his name? - Nora Jo
|Lisa and her Gram|
Bonus: One dollar for every book sold will go directly into a fund for The Alzheimer's Association and Leeza's Place.