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.
Melancholy fills my heart on so many levels.
Ada, my heart weeps for you. Having had 4 members of my family pass from FTD, I do believe that, although unresponsive, Gary does know that you love him and continue to visit. Stay strong. Praying for his peace.
ReplyDeleteYour story is worded so beautifully, although I can only imagine what your going through as a wife, I am a daughter caring for my dad in the early stages, knowing that the inevitable will follow. May we find strength and remember the laughter.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteThank you for sharing this. It is a surreal time, living with the knowledge that everything has changed, the memories are of a past life and that Gary's life may soon be over. I went through this with our 30 year old son who died from brain cancer and am now the caregiver for my husband with FTD. So much is similar and yet so much is different. The sadness and grief are the same though.
ReplyDeleteBless you Trueda.
ReplyDeleteAda,
ReplyDeleteYesterday I spoke with my caregiver counselor about placing my husband, Gary. She gently told me the reasons why and what it would be like, and that I had to be open to it. I could feel the resistance to her words. I already know I have to take care of myself, I already know that the day is coming when I have to decide. I value this therapist. She not only has a PhD, she's also lived it, losing her husband. I'm looking at a home now that Gary can stay while I'm out of town for work. I have to travel 4 times a year (3 - 5 days). So reading your blog today is so timely, because I KNOW it's coming, I think I can't bear it, and I don't know what I'll do when he's in a care home. Even if he doesn't respond to me, I still know him. I still remember him. I really felt like I needed to hear from someone who I can relate to right now. Thanks for sharing. I wish I could say it was inspiring or hopeful, but that's just not how it is right now. Still good to know I'm not alone... Wish you weren't here.