Maybe I am exaggerating but it is as if he cannot. anymore, name or recognize most words. When he needs something he has to show me because he cannot name it. When referring to something I have to play guessing games. Usually, I eventually guess what he needs but not without having to cover my pain. When I name an item, he doesn't necessarily know what I am talking about. For sure he has lost up, down, behind, in front of, on, in, etc. So much for most communication.
Just now he brought me a piece of lunch meat so I could smell if it was OK. Glad he remembered to do that rather than just eating it.
It was spoiled so I said, "It is spoiled. Throw it away and then wash your hands." I heard the cabinet door to the trash open and close but I did not hear him wash his hands. I questioned. "Did you wash your hands?"
"I did," he said.
I saw that he had not. "I don't think you did, please wash your hands."
He did not know what to do. He repeated, "Wash your hands." several times but did not know what to do. I had to show him.
"Oh that."
When I ask to see his wallet and he gives me his cell phone. When I ask to see his cell phone, he doesn't remember where he keeps it.
When we arrive somewhere and take off our coats, he doesn't know where to put his hat and gloves. When I remind him, he does not know how to get into the coat pocket. Often when something is in a pocket, he does not know how to retrieve it.
More and more, after drying dishes after dinner, he does not know where they belong.
He forgets how to use his knife and fork so uses his fingers more often. If there are two forks, as at the restaurant, he gets really confused.
When gathering his clothes for the morning he took only one sock. When I showed him, he didn't know what was wrong with the picture.
He put his reading glasses on the bed while he took his pills, then got under the covers and couldn't find the glasses, which had been pushed down under the pillow. I didn't know this but in the morning found his glasses at the bottom of the bed.
And other times, everything still seems normal.
This happens almost all the time now. I have such a difficult time living in his world. I am numb. Where do I take my numbness?
Michael,
ReplyDeleteI have been following your Alzheimer's blog and have been truly saddened, sometimes grief-stricken by your words, your plight, your grief. Since I am not in your shoes I won't even begin to say that I know what you're going through...I try to put myself in your shoes but still can't even fathom it.
Please know that my thoughts and, yes prayers, are with you. Both of you. Now imagine me holding you, taking your hand, leading you back to your happy place, wherever that may be. I wish there were more that I could do for you.
Being far away has made it difficult for me to be there for you but if you can think of anything, do not hesitate for an instant to ask.
I love you. More.
RM
Your thoughts, articulately and lyrically put, lifted my spirits. Sometimes words can express. I appreciated them very much. It is good now and then to have one's grief recognized. It allows one to take off the mask and put it down on the table, if only for a short while. We know that your are there for us and hope that you know we are there for you as well.
ReplyDeleteMichael
I don't know where you take your numbness, but putting it out into the blogosphere is one place... Your strength continually amazes me. The good you put out into the world and surrounding Gregory is at the level of saintliness. Sure you are not perfectly mellow and zen about it all (who could be), but your modeling of compassion and integrity and generosity of spirit is inspiring and humbling.
ReplyDeleteYou sometimes feel numb, but the story of that numbness sensitizes, touches, and challenges all of us to find deeper and more profound places to feel.
I love you.