Beef Stir Fry!

Months after Gary has gone silent and not spoken, yesterday he surprised us all and said three words aloud.  It was nice to hear his voice.

For quite some time, Gary would only whisper and repeat words that he heard.  If there was any original thought, we only had one shot at hearing it.  While feeding him his soup last night, there was a grandson of one of the residents sitting next to Gary feeding his grandmother.  The grandson had seen the menu for the Assisted Living Side of the house when he came in and was telling his grandmother that the residents were having Beef Pot Pie for dinner.  One of the caregivers overheard and corrected him by saying "No, they are having Beef Stir Fry."  The grandson told his grandmother, "I'm sorry, you are having Beef Stir Fry."


Without hesitation, Gary said in a loud voice "Beef Stir Fry."  I was shocked.  He quietly went back into his shell and said nothing else.  He was sitting up straight today with his eyes wide open.  By the end of the meal, he was asleep.

The daily differences in his progression into the darkness of the disease is amazing.

Restored....only in Heaven!

Gary sleeping in the quiet room at Memory Care.

Upon arriving at Gary's Memory Unit today, I walked into the main living area and one of the caregivers told me that she had just arrived and had not seen Gary yet today.  I went to his room and found it empty.  Where was he?

I found him in the Quiet Room with the lights down, waterfall on and aromatherapy machine misting some delightful aroma.  He was sound asleep.  I touched him and he did not stir.  I sat with him for quite a while and just held his hand.

After about a half hour, his eyes opened a little and I moved him into his room so I could trim his fingernails and trim his mustache.  His beard has now been totally shaved. He jerked a little when I turned on the electric clippers and seemed scared.  I explained to him what I was doing and whether or not he understood, he settled down. 

It was so odd touching his arms and shoulders as I was trimming him. I have touched his body for 32 years and the man I touched today felt very different.  His muscles and shape are gone.  He feels bony and weak.  A far cry from the man who could backpack and carry a 85 pound pack.

I looked him straight in the eye as I rubbed his newly cut hair back across his head.  I told him that I love him very much.  For the first time in months, he either repeated or responded a whispered "I love you."  I don't know whether it was a repeat or a response but my heart moved a little.  

Dementia, or in this case, FTD is one of the cruelest diseases I can imagine.  It steals the life and heart out of families. 

At these times, I can't help but wish for a restored Gary. Only in Heaven Ada....only in Heaven.

Gary and Ada on our last trip to Costa Rica about 7 years ago.

He's Declining

This whole experience with FTD is surreal.  I look at pictures of Gary from various stages in our lives and think "How did we get here?  What caused this disease?  Why did it happen to us?"  But, I will never know why and really, it is not important anymore.

Since Gary moved into Memory Care in June of 2016, my life has changed significantly.  I went through a stage where I visited him everyday and stayed for hours by his side.  As he started declining, I went less.  When I finally realized that he does not know me, I hardly go at all.  I have filled my life with distractions, some healthy and some not.  Its almost as if I am living in some alternate reality.

But, I'm not.  This is my life.  After church yesterday, I stopped by Sunrise to see him.  I was later than normal because I had gone to lunch with folks from church.  I needed the interaction.  I'm dealing with a lot of issues right now and I needed the sanity.  When I arrived, I stopped by the restroom first and encountered Nurse Betty from Hospice.  She takes great care of Gary.

I sat for a few moments and talked with her about him.  Her standard response is:  "He's declining."  I asked what that means and she gave me a "I'm so sorry look."  As I left the office, I noticed all the notebooks on the shelf dedicated to each patient.  A majority of them had a "NO CPR" on the binder edge.  Gary's holds the same label.  It is eerie knowing that if something happens to one of his systems that there will be no attempt at resuscitation.  But that is what he wanted.  Nature will just have to run its course.

When they opened the door to the Unit, Annie the dog greeted me with excitement.  I held her in my arm as I was told that they had already put Gary to bed.  His room was full of light and he was snoring.  I touched his arm and said my normal "Hey baberoon."  No response. 

He never knew anyone was there.  I looked at the pictures of our life on the wall and I left.  That life is only a memory now.

Melancholy fills my heart on so many levels. 

32nd anniversary thoughts

Tomorrow, September 9, is my 32nd anniversary of being married to Gary Gerard.  I was 22 and he was 37 when we married.  He was my soul mate, my mentor, my friend and my husband.  I say "was" because the man I just described exists only in the memories of those who knew and loved him.  I grieve for him as if he is already dead.

Dementia is killing him everyday.

Years ago, Gary and I decided to create memories on special occasions rather than buy gifts. On anniversaries, we usually went on vacation and on every 5th year, we did a big trip of some sort.  The irony of that decision is that I'm the only one who still remembers the memories.  I regret nothing but sure wish he was still mentally capable of hearing that I still love him and to have him tell me the same.

I so appreciate the years he and I had.  I am a much better person for having been married to him. 

The Assisted Living Center where he lives is having a luau tomorrow night and I will be attending and feeding Gary his chopped up anniversary meal.  He may or may not be awake so I may eat alone.  I am convinced he does not know me but I will dress up, put on my makeup and go as if I'm 16 going on a date. He deserves that even if he isn't awake.

I still love Gary but frankly, I'm not in love with the man that is now a shell.  Some may not understand but if I'm judged, so be it.  I do not wish Dementia on anyone.  It steals lives, memories and wipes out souls. 

SO for now, I will say Happy Anniversary Gary!