Husband's last camping trip

Husband's last camping trip

Sunday, July 7, 2013

The finality of it all

The saga of the "broken" shoes continued until yesterday afternoon.  I was cleaning house and had enough.  I got his "broken" shoes out, put socks on husband then put his shoes on.  Once I got done I stood up and said, "Now, you tell me where they are broken?"  Since then, the "broken" shoes are no more.  End of story.

Actually, I was not so nice about it.  Not mean, mind you, but, firm.  Very firm.

I've read and heard stories of caregivers being mean to the Alzheimer patient.  While I will never be mean, I have found that you do have to take the upper hand.  Otherwise, it can really drive you nuts.  Taking care of husband is exhausting.  There are days he just won't let up, like the shoe business.  Once I've had it, well, I've had it.  It was so constant yesterday, that I thought I would go mad.  Instead, I took the upper hand and that was the end of it.

Of course, there will be other things to occupy his mind.  He will find something else, I know, but, for now, the shoes are not "broken" anymore.

Husband is confused about this moving to another apartment.  Luckily, the floor plan is exactly like this one, with the only difference being there is a washer/dryer in the unit.  He keeps asking me if we are going to take our stuff, or, leave it here.  I continually tell him our stuff will go with us, but, it's not sinking in.  Nothing sinks in with him anymore.  Nothing.

He has stopped asking me what day it is.  I didn't really think much about it until the other day.  I thought, "When did that stop?"  I can't pinpoint it, but, it's been weeks.  His brain is so damaged now that, I think he's forgotten what days are.  He also doesn't ask me what the date is, or, the time of year.  All has stopped.

When Dr A said, "Christmas?",  he may be right on.  If  husband lasts into the new year, I'll be surprised.

I thought about this last night.  Man, what a crappy time of year to die.  I don't want him to die at all, but, Christmas time?  

I am prepared for it.  I think I got my ducks in a row.  Financially, I  think I'll be OK.  At least, I hope so.

Mentally, I honestly don't know.  I don't think you can ever really prepare for your loved one to die.  I often wonder, "Will I cry a lot when he dies?"  "Will I be so lonely, I won't know what to do with myself?"  "Will I go to the cemetery and stare at His Place?"  "What in the world will I do without him?"  "My kids.  Will they be alright?"

I think the questions that go through my mind are normal.  I just want us, the ones he is leaving behind, to be OK.

Husband will be fine, I know that.  He'll be at peace, his suffering over.  I'm not worried about him.

It's us I worry about.

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