Trundling Merrily Along
When I first started writing Dementia Be Damned, I went through a period of time where I kept tabs on the blog's stats. How many times was a page read, from how many countries did people visit, was their a pattern to the highly viewed posts and the those that are not widely read. It was exciting when the blog was mentioned on MetaFilter and there was a short-lived but huge spike in readers. Now, I write and post and work and just try to keep my head above water.
I've let go of feeling like I had to post every day and we've gone from 7 posts a week to four on average. It felt good to get there and to give myself permission to not post if I didn't have something to say. After all, there are days when I come home from work and my brain is too tired to think of what to fix for dinner. (I try to decide that in the morning before I leave the house so I don't have to think when I get home.)
The readership counts have gone down but so has the bots which were artificially increasing the stats. It looks like we've got about 35 regular readers. For that, I thank you. DBD was started as a way to share information with my Mom and as a way to chronicle my sister's life. Along the way, I've learned that she was inherently at higher risk of early on-set Alzheimer's than the rest of the general population because of her intellectual disability. That lovely fact is not limited to those individuals with Downs Syndrome. I've also learned that the progression of her disease is pretty classic.
DBD has been a gift to me and that was unexpected. I love when someone reaches out to me to ask how my sister is doing or how my Mom is doing. I love that you're reading along. Perhaps it is because you and I are connected on FaceBook and my links there have peaked your interest. Perhaps you found DBD when you were doing some research on coconut oil and its impact on Alzheimers. (It has none.) Perhaps you laughed when you saw the picture of my sister in the pink floral hat I gave her one Christmas which she sent back to me. It doesn't matter what caused you to read DBD. What matters is that when you ask about my family, I see your interest and your care. Thank you for that. It is a gift to be able to laugh with someone else over my sister's statements like "It is time for you to be happy to fix me dinner."
DBD has become such a part of my life that it is just part of my routine now. We're just merrily trundling along. It is with surprise that I opened the blog to write a post for today and realized yesterday's post was 1,000th post. Crazy.
Happy 1,001!
I've let go of feeling like I had to post every day and we've gone from 7 posts a week to four on average. It felt good to get there and to give myself permission to not post if I didn't have something to say. After all, there are days when I come home from work and my brain is too tired to think of what to fix for dinner. (I try to decide that in the morning before I leave the house so I don't have to think when I get home.)
The readership counts have gone down but so has the bots which were artificially increasing the stats. It looks like we've got about 35 regular readers. For that, I thank you. DBD was started as a way to share information with my Mom and as a way to chronicle my sister's life. Along the way, I've learned that she was inherently at higher risk of early on-set Alzheimer's than the rest of the general population because of her intellectual disability. That lovely fact is not limited to those individuals with Downs Syndrome. I've also learned that the progression of her disease is pretty classic.
DBD has been a gift to me and that was unexpected. I love when someone reaches out to me to ask how my sister is doing or how my Mom is doing. I love that you're reading along. Perhaps it is because you and I are connected on FaceBook and my links there have peaked your interest. Perhaps you found DBD when you were doing some research on coconut oil and its impact on Alzheimers. (It has none.) Perhaps you laughed when you saw the picture of my sister in the pink floral hat I gave her one Christmas which she sent back to me. It doesn't matter what caused you to read DBD. What matters is that when you ask about my family, I see your interest and your care. Thank you for that. It is a gift to be able to laugh with someone else over my sister's statements like "It is time for you to be happy to fix me dinner."
DBD has become such a part of my life that it is just part of my routine now. We're just merrily trundling along. It is with surprise that I opened the blog to write a post for today and realized yesterday's post was 1,000th post. Crazy.
Happy 1,001!
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