FOR GREGORY. He was not a VICTIM of ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE, he was a HERO!

PLEASE NOTE: Even though this blog is now dormant there are many useful, insightful posts. Scroll back from the end or forward from the beginning. Also, check out my writer's blog. Periodically I will add posts here if they provide additional information about living well with Dementia / Alzheimer's Disease.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Why The Anger?

Lately I have been feeling so angry. So angry. Why?

I have a choice about how I choose to feel. Why do I choose anger?

Would I feel like this, if I had one, towards my 3 year old son?

Would I feel like this towards my mother on her death bed?


I think the anger comes from trying to live in his world and to live in mine as well.

His gets more out of order, more out of kilter,  his life crazier and crazier each day.

And while I think I can deal with a certain amount of life's disarray and disorder,

The kilter and crazy get me, I don't know how to be out of balance and crazy.


I am angry because there is nothing I can do to change the course of our life.

I am angry because even when I come up with a new scheme that works

Eventually it peters out and dies while I have to continue living, dealing, and coping.

I am unhappy and angry as I watch the person I love the most dissolve and evaporate.


I cannot begin to tell you how I feel, I can only tell you I want to run and hide

Knowing there is nowhere to run or hide, my emotions, our life will be there.

Its like having a world of sorrow surrounding you, slowly cutting off your air supply,

And not knowing how to breath the precious little bit of oxygen that is still available.


I feel like the captain going down with his ship, standing on the bridge until the end.

I feel like the firemen rushing up into the World Trade Towers never to come down.

I feel like a child trying to understand his pet's death, yet not understanding death itself.

I feel like I am slowly twisting the knife of my own death yet not wanting to die.


If he was blind I could guide him, read to him, describe a field of spring flowers.

If he was lame I could push his chair, brings things to him, bring him to things.

If he was cancerous I could hold him, sooth him, sing to him, help him to die.

But he has Alzheimer's, I have no such comforts, only hoping I am doing my best.



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