Yoga for Loss and Grieving: Session 4 - Never Agains!

Missed last week's session 3. This week we worked on "Practice Intention" which was setting an intention for what might come out of today's session and "Life Long Desire," a more over time, life-long intention that we would like to consider.

For my "Intention," I set "Self-Forgiveness." Self-forgiveness for those times I didn't really understand what Gregory was going through as the effects of his Alzheimer's/ Dementia progressed. Self-Forgiveness for those times I could have done a better job if I was more aware of exactly it was that he was experiencing. Even though I did the best I could at the time, and even though I did a pretty terrific job, there is some grieving at not having been a better support to him, of getting angry with him, and at times of being downright mean to him!

While I have been beating myself up a little less as time has passed since Gregory died, I still wish I could have been better and obviously there is no way to go back in time to redo my behavior. I know that Gregory always forgave me and I was always able to quickly apologize; still the feelings and emotions linger of not ever again being able to make it right! That is one of the irrational side effects of death: the NEVER AGAIN syndrome!

For my "Life Long Desire," I set the idea of wondering what the rest of my life would be like and how I could spend it doing good for others.

Following the setting of the "Intention" and the "Desire" we let them drift into the background, as we continued our Yoga Nidra practice, knowing that we had acknowledged them but did not need to do anything about them or work on them. Just having noted them was enough for now.

Next, we visited our "Internal Resource" place, that place we can go to anytime we need to seek peace and comfort and safety. This time Gregory was not in bed but was waiting to greet me by the door. We hugged with great love and joy in a way that we had not hugged for a long long time due to his being in a wheelchair for over a year during his time at Lieberman. I wanted it to be real so it was, for a few moments real.

Again, like last session, while being in my Internal Resource place was beautiful, if was emotionally overwhelming. The realization was that hugging Gregory could only exist here, in my Internal Resource now and only in my imagination made me very sad (although I fancied that I was really hugging him and if I deemed it so, it was so!) Once again death waved the NEVER AGAIN flag. Hugging Gregory could exist in my memory but never again in real life. Somehow I will have to come to grips with this being enough for me.

I realized that while often I am happy and enjoying my new life without Gregory, the shadow of sadness still strongly fades every bright color that shines through the clouds. I cried silently so as not to disturb the other students or instructor in the class.

Slowly I drifted back to the rest of the practice with its breathing, its being aware of my body in relation to the floor and the air and the room. Slowly I returned to the calmness and peacefulness of the practice and for the time being left my sorrow behind. When it was time to slowly come back to reality, back to my body, back to the room with the other students, the tears flowed again but I gathered myself together, put my pillows and blankets and chair back in the store room, wished Corrine a "Thank You" and came home to write this post.

While I believe that I gained much from the session, I am aware that I am feeling somewhat numb and spent. I hope I will sleep well tonight.

A Letter to a Friend

Hi Susan. I am doing well. Still numb and very sad but at this point Gregory is being well taken care of. He is no longer the man you knew just a short while ago. I am grateful for his current home, one of the best Memory Care Facilities in Chicago, and am grateful to begin learning a new role as Secondary Care Giver. I do not have to go it alone but have a team of nurses, social workers, dietitians, doctors, therapists, etc to help Gregory as his needs continue to change.

Eventually I'll get on with my life. I never martyred myself to Gregory's disease and continued to have an identity of my own but did devote a lot of time, and energy, and love on an increasing basis as Gregory's needs increased. My identity, however, did include having a life partner with which to share my days. With him in his new home and me in the old one, I have to figure out who I am as a single person and what the angle of my days will look like.

Now, while I see him a couple of hours every day, I have lots of time on my hands and not yet the motivation to do anything with that time. I think the first thing I'll involve myself in is tailoring the condo to my needs and removing those things that met Gregory's needs. I will continue my writing and begin again to pursue a publisher for my memoirs which were organized at Ragdale during my residency in 2010. I hope to begin traveling again.

What I do not seem to have, and being good to myself since it has only been two weeks since this major upheaval, is any idea of what the future will hold. No goals. No ambitions. No hopes and desires. Except that Gregory be well taken care of and that I continue to be healthy and alive.

In some way, it is as though this moment has always been arriving and always leaving at the same instant yet doesn't exist in reality. Gregory is very visibly living in the moment, no past and no future and not really much of a present as we know it, and perhaps for now, I am living in the moment as well.

Love you, miss you, keep your guest room ready as one day I will arrive at your doorstep (with notice :-)

Fondly,
Michael

Milestones

Often times milestones mark achievements and celebration. I am sad to report that the milestone Gregory and I reached tonight is not cause for celebration.

We were watching a movie and I noticed that he was becoming agitated. Nothing about the movie would have caused that. I asked, "Are you OK." And he said he was not. "What's the matter?" He didn't know. I made my usual suggestion, "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

"Maybe," he said and got up. "Where?"

"Go to the bathroom." He left the room while I took a few more seconds to stop the video. I followed him into the bedroom where he was standing holding his penis. "Pull your pants down and go sit down." He didn't know what to do so I moved him into the bathroom and as I started to help him pull down his pants, releasing his penis, he began to pee. On himself. On the floor. On me.

He was very sorry and very apologetic. I was very soothing and calm and loving. He finished peeing in the toilet and I began to clean up the floor, took his pants and slippers off, and wiped up his leg. He apologized again and I told him it was nothing to be sorry about, just that there were implications involved. "You didn't recognize the "feeling" as an urge to go to the bathroom?" I asked/stated.

"I guess so," he answered. For a while now when I sensed he was upset about something I sent him to the bathroom and he was surprised that he had to take a dump. This is the first time that urination was the culprit. Also he had waited so long that he had the "accident."

The implications are my needing to be more alert to his changing mood, might need to check every hour or so by asking and/or sending him to the bathroom, might need to begin using what I called "Protection Pants." You get the drift of my euphemism.

All I can say, is that reporting this here is helping me get through my numbness, should help you to keep up with our "progress," and is part of my continuing open and honest (if not brutal) documentation of our journey.

Honestly, I am so sad and numb and worried about the future that I don't know what to do.  Tomorrow we are/were excited about a Wagner opera: 1:40 Act 1, 30 minute intermission, 1:05 Act 2, 30 minute intermission, and 1:10 Act 3, then the drive home. There is a handicapped bathroom on the main floor (where we are sitting) so I will just have to be super alert.

Meanwhile, for tonight, maybe a short TV show in favor of abandoning the long movie and some popcorn?

WARNING: Explicit Scatology

Dear J,

Thanks for your thoughts. Things have been so hectic that I haven't even had five minutes alone in which to sit down for our phone chat. Friday night G had some kind of virus (don't think it was food poisoning) had the runs and has given me quite a run since.

Shit himself, shit the bed all night. Luckily I had a package of hospital type bed squares with absorbent on one side and plastic on the other.

Slept most of Saturday in between me having having to clean him up. After some toast, tea, and yogurt he shit on both of us as he stood in the middle of the kitchen saying, "Oh oh, Oh oh." I didn't know where to start to clean up the mess.

I have started having him sit on the pot every hour on the hour. Have caught most of the accidents. His ass is so raw that it hurts to look at and I am applying medicated cream.

Woke him up through the night and again caught most of the accidents. But toilet paper skills were sadly lacking and that paired with communication deficiencies made it an almost impossible situation.

Today is Sunday and he is still messing his pants. We will have another binding banana and oatmeal for breakfast and see what the day brings.

All this with the inability to wipe his own ass let alone communicate his needs or understand my questions. So like a baby flailing in its poop, that is what I am dealing with.

When he is sitting in one place he still looks and feels like Gregory. But at least with this weekend's illness, none of the Gregory I know is here with me.

I know your comment "You are not alone." means you empathize with me and wish you were here to support me but guess what, I am alone. And numb. Beware the IDES of MARCH.

And Emma decided to throw up twice. At least she did it in the middle of the bathroom tile so the grout is safe as is the bedroom rug. A bit of humor.

Michael