Windows Open and Doors Shut
Many times we find that we must be open to new ideas. That is what happens with Dementia and Alzheimer’s. For instance, one of the things I have previously spoken about is that changes are needed as the disease progresses. The last post on the subject was about being playful and at times playing children as adults with these diseases. So far it has worked for me, but is losing its’ effectiveness. So too this door slams so suddenly that my head spins to see the end of the battle comes so quickly and the ugly face of dementia has forever claimed another victim.
Something that has to be recognized by the care taker is that the person with dementia cannot help what they are doing. They live in a cocoon consisting of fog. They are confused to the point they could harm themselves if a moment of panic arises. If you’ve ever been in a heavy fog, it’s very easy to lose your bearings; you can’t see where you are going. You don’t know what to do to see clearer.
When the care taker becomes aware of the ebb and flow of the decline that the toll has taken on the one with Dementia, they too must become painfully aware that the ebb and flow of the emotional turmoil has to be eased.
I could deal with him going into a room and forget what he went in there for. I could handle that all day long and it wouldn’t bother me, in fact, I wish it was that simple.
Instead, he’ll go get something and I have to get up and get it for him because he doesn’t know what the dresser, or counter, or cupboard, or refrigerator is. Many times I will look at him and he looks very confused and I ask him what is wrong and he will tell me that he doesn’t know what he is supposed to do.
He’s been spilling food all over which I really don’t mind, I know to expect that. The new trials are more difficult to deal with. Many times I’ll hand him a sandwich or a plate of food and he will just look at it. I’ll tell him it is his lunch or dinner and he won’t eat it because he doesn’t know what it is or if he has had it before. I silently cry.
This is truly a difficult stage of this disease. He is just entering into the last stage of dementia and it is time for me to start thinking of which nursing home to have him admitted into.
The time is coming and it won’t be very long before some actions are going to be needed if only for my own health. Since I’ve spoken to his son, he is going to come here and see for himself and help me to get things get moving.
Since I had posted last, things have been happening that I hate myself for. Loss of patience has been taking place a lot. This is not on his part, but on mine. I have no time to myself anymore and I find myself upset when I try to help him do something that he does not want me to help him with. Yesterday he did something, I don’t remember what, but I got so upset with him that I yelled. I immediately remembered that he can’t help it and I hated myself for that because we have never treated each other that way in our 28 years of marriage. I cried out loud and kept apologizing. He just kept telling me it was okay.
For that I feel as if I am so ungrateful to a man who has been nothing but kind, loving, and always standing behind me through all of my illnesses, and still loving me all the time no matter how bad my illnesses were. This is what I have to deal with for now. I cry more. I take more medicine to help me deal with this sadness, guilt, and despair.
As time goes on, I can feel myself getting worse. I cannot allow myself to become hateful because I hate myself for even raising my voice to him. Before things got this bad, I knew that there would be changes, in our lives. I wasn’t expecting it to get to this point so quickly, but it did, and it has to be dealt with.
Today he was trying to put 2 belts on. When I asked him why he was trying to wear 2 belts, he said that one wasn’t tight enough. Two days ago, he was trying to put a shirt on because he thought it was a pair of pants. Each episode that happens, I see him fall further and further. I cry a little longer each time.
I’ve thought of getting a sippy cup for him, and I had already bought plates with 3 dividers and that helped for a while. The sippy cup won’t do anything to help at this stage. So I cry more as I am becoming surer that the time is coming when we will have to separate. It’s not far off either. So, I will cry some more.
Even though another door has slammed shut, the window open is a nursing home. I do believe that he soon will not realize that the nursing home is where he is at. Until then, I will take one step at a time as I continue to watch the ugly face of dementia continue to consume my husband’s life.