Husband continues to be in a constant state of confusion. Each day is more confusing than the day before. I don't know when this all started, but, I noticed it last weekend, gradually, but, now, it's hard not to notice.
Take for instance yesterday. We were getting ready to leave the house. Husband was putting on his shoes/braces. I went to see what was taking so long. Jack was in the room with him. He was telling husband what shoe/brace went on what foot. Husband got confused, Jack got inpatient and I stood there not believing what I was seeing.
As I entered the room, husband looked up at Jack and said, "I don't know how to do this. I don't remember what right foot and left foot are anymore. You have to help me". As he said this, Jack turned around to face me and mouthed the word, "HELP". I tried to calm husband down and we finally got his shoes/braces on.
It's these little things I am not prepared for. I am waiting for the big seizure, the big fall, the big choking. Not this. Not the "I can't tell my left foot from my right foot anymore".
You also have no warning this is about to happen. When it does, it knocks the wind out of me. For the rest of the day/night, that's all I thought about. How pitiful my husband has become. How awful it must be for him, to live in a constant state of confusion.
I took him grocery shopping with me yesterday. He pushed one basket, I pushed the other. Not because I fill both baskets up, but, he needs to hold onto a basket to keep from falling. (Yes, he needs the walker, I know, I know). As I was putting stuff in my basket, I looked at husband's basket. In his basket was one bag of those dehydrated beans (they are delicious). I looked at him, he stood there with a funny smile on his face, like he was just got caught sneaking stuff into the basket. I just laughed, told him he was being sneaky.
On our way home, it was quiet in the car. I glanced at husband. He slumps in the seat now. He was looking out the window. Stopped at a red light. I took a good look at husband's face. And eyes. He was moving his head, as if he was looking around his surroundings, but, the whole face had a blank stare about him.
He's gone now. It's been too long. He is really gone. I can't reach him anymore. No one can. It's now just a matter of time. I will care for him, love him, feed him, make sure he is comfortable.
After everyone had gone to bed last night, I realized something. This is the beginning of the end.