A Reply

In response to a letter from a former work mate of Gregory's (http://mhorvichcares.blogspot.com/2014/02/a-letter.html)

Dear Mary Ellen and Bob,

What can I say. I am so sorry that you are going through this. Never easy. Trite comments like "But we have so much for which to be grateful." are true but help little. People over the years have always been very kind with their advice, their "be good to yourselves," their love and affection, their suggestions. But in the end nothing really helps, does it? My "trite" comment for you would be, "Love is all we really have. Cherish it. Hold on to it." That has been my guiding principal.

I know, however, that advice from others doesn't really help until it becomes part of your own experience. I am happy that in some small way my journey with Gregory has been helpful to you both. My fervent wish for you, as it has been for me, is that I wish I could make it all go away! But since I cannot, I'll share Gregory and my motto that helped for many years, "We have a choice, lie down and die or hunker down and keep going the best we can!

Mary Ellen, Gregory always loved working with you and Thresholds was one of the career highlights of his life. He learned so much about people and caring and during that time of his life he met me, worked through leaving his wife after seven years, and eventually returned to his first love Architecture. He truly loved helping the residents at Thresholds; cooking with them, teaching life skills, going on shopping trips. In many ways you, and Jerry Dincin and Thresholds gave him a new identity which he has held on to this day.

Thanks for writing and sharing your thoughts. In many ways they bring tears to my eyes. When I am able to step aside from my grief, my anger, my impatience, often my lack of compassion, my fear, my loneliness, my being less than perfect in my support of Gregory, my selfishness ... I do know that I did a wonderful job helping Gregory cope and manage to live with Alzheimer's for so many years. And even today when he is so much less than he was, and in my role as Secondary Care Giver with Lieberman taking most of the responsibility, he is safe, well taken care of, and loved by many many people.

Michael

An Apology

I apologize for being impatient.
I apologize for loosing my temper.
I apologize for raging at you.
I apologize for being violent with you.
(Read less than kind. Read abrupt.)
I apologize for saying unkind things.
I apologize for being mean.

I love you, never doubt that.
And I know that you love me.
I just don't love myself right now.

I took a vow of silence yesterday and for a day or two. This may seem like being melodramatic but if I am going to cope with Gregory's continued decline, especially his current digestive illness, I need to get a grip on myself and be the kind, loving, gentle caregiver partner that I know I am.

I used the above apology and explained that I would be here for him, to help him, to love him, but that I was going to take a vow of silence because that would prevent me from getting upset and therefore upsetting him.

If I can't show or demonstrate it, I will do what he needs done. This will help me avoid having to use words. I will not need to apologize for the above listed reactions that I have been working at controlling.

Just now he brought me his glass of water, ready to take his pills. "Is this enough?" he asked referring to how much water was in the glass. Bringing him with me, I took the glass into the kitchen, filled it with more water, said not a word. He headed back to the bedroom. I tapped him, gestured at the now full glass of water and he got the picture. Success. This time.

With my vow of silence, I have been more aware of talking to myself in my head. Perhaps this will lessen the time between the triggering of an emotion and my reaction.

An E-mail to a Friend

Dear B,

Laughs are good. Glad you enjoyed the article I sent.

In response to "How are you doing?" I am hanging in there but currently by the fingernails. G continues to fail, doesn't understand most words, so communication is difficult, so most parts of life don't work smoothly if at all. Yet so many things still do work well. It is a crap shoot and Russian Roulette at the same time as well as an opera and a circus and a freak show.

For the most part I am fine but the small explosions add up, the regrouping takes it toll, and the resilience has its cost. Sometimes I feel that I am not too "nice" to him. My tone of voice is not loving, I am impatient, I am short. I don't know when to help or how to help. I hate letting him struggle by himself but sometimes I think that is the best choice. I keep thinking I'll get the hang of it, but suspect that there is no hang! I'll keep trying.

Someday I would like to talk about what it was like towards the end with your husband, if you are up to it. I so understand how you felt towards the end of his Alzheimer's and how much you must miss him. Just to hear him say, "I love you."

While I find myself wishing Gregory dead so he does not have to face the inevitable (is that too strong a statement?) I know I'll be devastated. 

For details on how we are doing check out http://mhorvichcares.blogspot.com 

m

Meditation

Last week in my Nidra Yoga Meditation class I realized that instead of being better able to deal with my impatience and at times lack of compassion for Gregory, I needed to work on dealing with the feeling that I get in my chest when an interaction or communication with Gregory goes awry. If I can identify the "feeling" when it arrives and diffuse it, I will be patient and compassionate even more than I usually am. It is the confusion, fear, and anger behind the "feeling" that causes me to be impatient. One step closer to perfection '-)

I am taking a class at the Heartwood Center in Evanston with Corinne Peterson.
http://www.corinnepeterson.com/yoga-therapy/