Not much difference

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.

About cm writes

A lifelong desire of mine has been to write. As a child I wrote, even though it needed some pizzazz; but as a child, my abilities were very limited as you can imagine. Every person has much to learn, and I did that along the road to adulthood. I sure wish I kept them so I could us them for other posts. Fool that I am, I destroyed them. There were diaries through childhood abuse, tossed out. I guess that they served their purpose. Diaries I also kept through 2 abusive marriages and where are they now? They have all been destroyed, but yet I love to write. I guess that I didn't see any reason to keep them at the time, but as I write now, I can see the true value of them, precious. When I write now, I keep everything no matter how bad it seems to be. When I was in therapy I wrote everyday. Even if there are parts I don't want exposed, I don't expose it, but that is nothing new to writers. They have been doing this for years, and it works well. Happy Writing
This entry was posted in challenges, changes, Dementia, love, now home, what to do and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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