My Mother is still holding her own. Every morning I say to myself, "Is today the day of her departure?" And yet, "the call" does not come. She's a fighter, that gal.
I got a call earlier this week from an old neighbor in Albuquerque. She wanted to know how husband was doing. I told her. She said, "He was supposed to die a year ago."
First of all, this neighbor is not my cup of tea, however, I thought it was nice of her to call and ask about husband.
It didn't really hit me until yesterday. Suddenly, I got mad. And then I started thinking.
Do people really think this is all a bunch of malarkey? Do people honestly think I'm making this all up? For what purpose? Money? From who? Publicity? Sympathy?
After husband was diagnosed, I read somewhere that once a person is diagnosed with his rare type of Alzheimer's, it's about 3-5 years. We are on year 4.
Dr A told me last June he gave husband 6-9 more months. We are on month 9.
All I know is, my husband is dying.
We have good days. He will be in the here and now state. Suddenly, like last night, he will ask me what our dog's name is. I will tell him. He will look surprised.
Husband cannot walk, talk right, see right, bathe himself, shave, brush his teeth, roll over in bed, dress himself, use a fork or spoon right, hold his head in a normal position, use a remote for his TV, control his bodily functions, dress himself, and, last, but, not least, retain anything.
So, you ask. How much longer? How come he is still alive? When is he really going to die?
I. Don't. Know.
Only God knows his Date of Departure.