During the past few months the amount of my falls has become frightening. Of course, not with me, but apparently it does scare the doctors. My first of my worst falls came on a Tuesday June 14, 2018. While I tried to get to the sink in the kitchen, I tried to take a right out of the dining room, but as I began to fall my feet kept going and I ran smack dab into the corner of the kitchen counter and the force of the fall made a deep gash at eyebrow height. My right arm landed in the trash can. It was a blessing that the counter did not go into my eye. I pulled my arm Continue reading Falling down hurts
I’m still trying to get past the grief of losing my husband, and the physical overcomes me. After falling 10-12 times in May, I find myself in a live in physical therapy facility with having had a concussion, a fractured humorous in 2 places, and stitches above my eye with a beautiful black eye which runs into my side hair-line.
I shouldn’t complain too much about it, but they won’t let me go home at this time. I’ve been told there are several issues or reasons I can’t go home and they are; I have a memory problem, I can’t be trusted Continue reading Getting past the grief
It’s hard for me to get back to writing again since it’s been so difficult to get through these dark days and months. I’ve been a widow now for six months. Thirty years of marriage is not wiped out easily in a few days or even a few months. Even today I still start to say something and look towards Bill’s chair before I remember that he isn’t there and he will never be there again. Even though this still brings tears to my eyes, there has been help along the way. This may sound strange, but sometimes help comes from unexpected places. (such as here)
Some of my help came from the Hallmark Channel series called “When Calls the Heart” I do not have the Hallmark Channel Continue reading Concerning “When Calls the Heart”
Not that I fear death nor do I forget that this is a sensitive subject. This is particularly something that is on my mind since my husband passed away on December 7, 2017. There is only so much that one person can do by themselves and every one expect them to hold it together. My stepson and a brother-in-law have been helping me with the details.
Well, we are burying him in his hometown of Fairbury, NE 2 days after the memorial, those were his last wishes. Therefore since I don’t have a car anymore, Continue reading In closing this series
Below is the last picture I took of Bill before he got real sick. In this picture he looked contented and peaceful. He was just glad that I was there so he could hold me again. From here his final nose dive. From this time on, he was not my husband. I didn’t know the man this mental illness turned him into.
He weighed about 140 lbs so far and used to weigh 188. He turned into a very different man, pushing every one away and hitting some people including me. These are the days I went home and cried.
I don’t feel as if I have mourned Bill yet. Maybe I mourned him until the day he died. The strange thing about this is something that Alzheimer’s disease does not do. Bill still recognized me and I could tell by the way he looked at me and listened intently to what I was saying to him. Long before the time Alzheimer’s patients are dying, they don’t know who anyone is.
Yes, I believe that Dementia is very different from Alzheimer’s and this is from my own personal experience. This is the photo where we cuddled for the last time
Bill talks as well as can be expected
In September, 2017
I’ve asked Bill what his world is like, because it could help other people who have loved ones with dementia. It may also help others who already have it what they could expect for themselves, and their loved ones.
Now, some may not go through the same steps in the same order, some may have none of the view of their unfortunate condition, but this may help everyone with dementia. His first answer was that it is none of their business; let them find out for themselves.
Bill had been declining on a regular basis. The time had come that he wanted to tell what was going on in his own mind. By then, he could mostly talk so that it was understandable but his sentences were still broken. He was always soft spoken and kind. Never would he get angry and push people away, never would he get angry or annoyed with me.
Since he has always had trouble finding the right words to describe how he is feeling, I thought that if I helped him find some words it might help him, he would be able to express himself. Therefore, I asked him if the world looked normal to him
He said that it didn’t but he just didn’t know what he is supposed to do anymore. Bill also replied that he didn’t feel as if the world was normal, but I don’t know how to…. no words were able to get out after those words. I then asked him if the world seemed upside down to him. He thought for a few minutes, looked at the floor, then at me and with tears in his eyes, his answer was yes, it kind of did seem upside down. Once again, I asked him with tears in my eyes if the world made any sense to him at all. It took him a few minutes to answer that question too. … His answer was that nothing made any sense to him any more.
Those were his answers. These remarks were made sporadically…. I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I asked if he wanted to go for a walk. He would always want to know where we going to walk to. I told him that it was just to the office and back. He would be okay. Today I asked Bill what his world feels like to him. At first, he said that it was none of their business. Then I asked him if his world seemed to be upside down and if it makes him feel lost. He finally answered that it was upside down and he didn’t know what he is supposed to do. I told him that I only could guess how that felt, but I thought that he was brave being in that kind of world and functioning anyway.
I know that I have not written in a while as Bill has slowly declined to the point that he is at now.
It started when he fell and hurt his back and ribs on the left side. He would scream every time someone would try to help him up or move him. I had to call the paramedics just to get him off the cold bathroom floor to bed. He didn’t want to go to the hospital so I told the paramedics that he didn’t want to go. After I tried to take care of him and get him up, he would scream that his back hurt. When I sat him back down on the bed I told him that he was hurt and needed to go to the hospital.
When the staff took a CT scan of his head, neck, ribs and back, they could find any medical reason to keep him there at the hospital. The social worker for the hospital said that he needed to go to a nursing home and the only bed that was available was 35 miles away and I said no as to putting him that far away. The staff in the ER asked me what I was going to do with him. I told them I would take him back home with me. They asked how I was going to take care of him. I answered the only thing I could. I would take care of him the best I could, just the way I have been doing.
For the next few days, I had to call the paramedics every day to help get him up off the floor because he would scream every time I tried to help him. He then got weaker and at first, I could help him get to the bathroom because he was able to help me. As the days passed by, he was getting quite weak, and I was unable to help him any longer. The paramedics took him once again to the hospital.
It so happened that the social worker for this particular chain of hospitals was there in the hospital. She looked at both of us and informed me that I was not taking him home anymore. He would be placed in one of the nursing homes in town so at least I am able to get there to see him. I asked her where we could talk quietly. We were escorted to a quiet room with some comfortable furniture and we all sat down. The social director talked to me and told me I was unable to care for him myself anymore, I needed help. To make sure that I understood, she asked me to look at myself. I couldn’t even stand up straight anymore, I’m falling down more, and I am in pain from my own illnesses.
At this time, she pointed out that I was getting so that I can’t take care of myself let alone Bill. I finally agreed that he should go to a nursing home. I didn’t wait for him to get settled, but I left soon after I signed the papers. I couldn’t take any more of this right now.
This is not my husband that I go to visit. My husband has disappeared into the grips of that ugly monster that has been trying to swallow him whole. In just four days, he went from my sweet, soft spoken, gentle loving man to a man who is a stranger to me. He’s been there a month, and there have been glimpses of recognition of me. One day he remembered me for a couple of hours. It was wonderful; he opened his arms to acknowledge me. His eyes had that boyish twinkle, then he kissed me so tenderly. He was talking to me, and his speech was clear so we lay in his bed talking and I read him some of the bible. Lunch then came and I tried to feed him. He ate some bites of a couple of food items I know he likes, but he didn’t even want to eat more than one or two bites.
Bill becomes aggressive and has hit aides that were trying to get him to do things he does not want to do. He’s hit me too, but I remind myself that he can’t help it. This is the monster within.
This is another entry about the feelings my husband hides within his heart and memory. He is weighed down with dementia and at times, he believes he is carrying this burden by himself.
He’s not alone, for this is a two-person journey from beginning to end. What I’ve seen in Bill is the sadness of losing each skill, each thought, each piece of him to oblivion. I’m not morose, or a negative person, but this is a sad condition of the mind. Dementia is a condition of the mind that two people have to deal with. Each must adjust and help one another cope with the stages that must take place.
My mother had Alzheimer’s and I watched her go downhill for 16 years. I took care of her every need for those years. She did not have to be alone going through the process of memory loss alone either. When she was sick and dying, Bill was diagnosed with Dementia. Sometimes I forget what really is happening to the person within. When you are with a person with such a condition, perhaps every day, you don’t see the gradual change. Others do see the larger picture and see the downhill slide.
To those who take care of these ones, it seems as if all of a sudden that ugly monster has shown its’ face and this decline appears so suddenly that it takes your breath away. To me it feels as if it has been sudden that his thoughts and speech have trouble coming together, if at all. I remember the thoughts of his heart wanting to come out, but they were stuck. The thoughts were there, the memories are there, but the words are not.
He struggles to get the thoughts out and it hurts me to the point of my heart breaking in two. As he tries to form the words or remember his thought, the look of desire in his eyes I know that he has something important to say to me. The unwillingness of his mouth to form the words that have already gone into obscurity and as the thought itself entered the doors of extinction, we look at each other helplessly. I can only hug him, tell Bill that I love him, and it’s not his fault it’s the monster called dementia. Then nothingness fills the void of silence.
Sometime in Jan or Feb of this year, his son called us. I do not remember what the objection was, but JR was mad at me and he told me that he was very angry with me. He thinks that his dad should be down there with him where he could care for him properly and he could see his grandchildren. I started to cry, and I told him that he has a right to be angry and it was OK to be angry with me. His dad found his voice, grabbed the phone and let him know a few things that his son was not aware of. Bill reminded him that I was his wife and JR had no business getting me upset.
That was only one small thing that we have to work with. Bill has to remember that his son has not had to deal with older people and never with Alzheimer’s and Dementia. It is a shock for him to see his dad like this, and he doesn’t see it as bad as it really is at this time.
Thankfully, there is no one else on bill’s side of the family that we have to hold their hand and deal with this too. When you look at this, it comes down to the importance of the relationship that Bill and I have built over the years that is getting us through this. My sister said it all when she said that when you get old, all you have is your family to take care of you.
That’s the truth isn’t it? As for us, we’re just plugging along like every on taking it one day at a time, and as time passes you too will feel the pangs of tomorrow. Then it will be your turn to just plug along as the others do.
There was also a sparkle, but that’s another entry for another day.
The word “Remember” can invoke many thoughts to each of us. You may even wonder where to begin. I’m sure that each of us could write a book on our own memories. I’m only thinking of the first thing that this precious word makes me want to write.
I remember the reason I fell in love with my husband. We lived in Colorado at the time and I remember the first conversation I heard him have with his mother. (His end of course.) The gentle tone in which he spoke to his mother reminded me how children are supposed to obey their parents. It made me remember that the reason we obey is because we love and respect them. He’d laugh each time she spoke of what “Muffin” (her dog and only companion) did that amused her that week. She talked about any visitors she had during the week. Bill listenened with interest and gentleness that I had not seen in a very long time.
He spoke with deep concern about how she was doing and what needed to be done to her house. It was older and was in need of much attention. Bill’s two brothers helped as much as they could. They talked for about an hour and sometimes longer. This impressed me as them having a close relationship. This might spark a flavor of “mama’s boy” to some, but he was no “mama’s boy.”
One brother lived in Germany at this time. He was in the army. He and his wife lived on the base for a while, and then moved off base. They flew home at least couple of times each year. At those times, they visited each of their parents and took care of the needs that were a little more expensive.
The other brother lived about an hour and a half away from her and visited as much as he could. He also did what he could to visit and if she needed shopping done, he would do it for her. He visited her on a regular basis. He was a policeman in that town he lived. From Fairbury to Grand Island was the shortest distance of the three brothers to their mother’s.
We lived in Denver, about a six hour drive, but Bill made that drive when he could, and did physical work on the house and the yard. When I began to go with him I would make meals for her. I’d put them in containers, and then in the freezer so she could just take out one for her, and heat it in the microwave. I also did housework for her that she was unable to do for herself. Their mom had arthritis, and was pretty well crippled with the disease.
For a year I listened to him call her every week without fail. He spoke to her in that same mild and caring tone each and every week. How could you not fall in love with a man such as this? He treated me with the same caring tone and respectful manner. The sincerity in his voice and mannerisms spoke volumes as to what kind of man Bill was.
As the year went along, I heard conversations with his two boys in California also. This was the same manner as he spoke with his mom. Those conversations didn’t last quite as long, but the attitude, love, and respect was shown to them as well.
What can I say? After a year, he asked me to marry him. We got married and here it is 28 years later. He still takes care of me in the way only a husband can take care of a wife; loving, caring, and sometimes even crying together. I still care for him as only a wife can; listening, laughing together, sharing a sunset, or even a simple meal are still pleasurable to us. We tolerate his dementia, and we tolerate my physical and emotional problems. We try to keep them in their place and go on enjoying the love and respect we have always had for each other.
This will be a shorter post because I have been tending to Bill. I let this go a long time because of that, but I will be catching up soon I hope.
Let’s see, I left him at the memory ward, which was not necessary for Bill to be there, but I needed a break from the frenzied life we had been living. With all the doors slamming shut, and only small windows opening, I needed the break. Therefore, when I left him there, I went to NE, then Denver. I visited with old friends, but by the time I got home ten days later, I needed to rest up.
After a while Bill was spending more time at home than he was at the nursing home. We decided that he might as well come back home. Before he moved back in, I went to FL to see a dear friend. The days are getting shorter for all of us and I wanted to see her one more time.
I wanted to move to another town, so we moved into a place that I thought was like assisted living where I would get some help with Bill. We had two rooms, and the services were supposed to be room cleaning and laundry. We never got any room cleaning done, I had to do that and there was no help with Bill. What was the point of being there where they take all of your money and only give you three meals a day. There was very little nutrition in them and consisted of little taste either.
We decided that we would be better off going back to the town we came from and get our own apartment again. At least we will be eating decent meals and have someone coming in two or three days a week to clean, cook, and run errands for us. While we were there I became blind as to the continual decline in Bill’s judgement.
Someone told me that he had gone outside and wandered into the woods. Not thinking too much about that as he was in the room with me again. When night fell, I almost had a heart attack when Bill got undressed. His legs were covered with chigger bites on both legs from his feet to his thighs. I asked him how he got them clear up there and he said that he wasn’t sure, and I spent the next three hours scraping the bites open and dabbing each one with alcohol. He did remark that he learned a lesson that day.
When I look back at the few months that we spent there, I was aware of him getting a little worse and when one of the resident’s boss came in, Bill didn’t like him, he stood up at the table, and was telling me to get out of the way. I was sitting between the two of them. When I asked him why he couldn’t go around the table he held up his fist and said that he wanted to punch him in the face. This was the first sign of any violence I had seen in all of our years together. Never would I have guessed that he would threaten anyone. This guy was twice the size of Bill.
There were a few other things that he did that were not acceptable, but he wasn’t aware that he was doing anything wrong. We did have two rooms, but we had to go out into the hallway to get to the other room. Then he got lost and opened the wrong doors a few times which I was not aware of until later on. I was glad to go back to apartment living. I was having to be with him all the time and with him in whichever room he was in.
Back now to our own apartment.