It’s me again Jean on another Friday morning. It’s ok chuck, I know you don’t remember me, who I am or what our relationship is.
Just been sorting some papers out and I see were married in 1967, one day before my 21st birthday and a few months before yours. I make that 44 years. So, we have seen a lot together, done a lot together, struggled to bring the family up and watched them grow into the people they have become.
We always managed to pay the bills, keep out of debt and not have any real stresses of the kind that seems to break families apart these days. Really it’s all thanks to you.
Those times are past now, you cannot remember them. The roles of our lives have been altered. Instead of looking after each other, it’s now my turn to look after you.
You have now reached the age of 65 and will have had Alzheimers Disease for nearly 10 years.
You have changed in so many ways from the 20 year old I married. The list of what you are now unable to do is very long and getting longer almost by the day.
Don’t fret though, as I am retired now and I am here to do it for you and with you so that you still wake up in the morning with a smile and a giggle.
Don’t mind telling you though, it is hard at times. Very very hard. I need every bit of ingenuity to keep you cheerful and every bit of patience to come to terms with the fact that you cannot do today what you so easily did yesterday.
So I have changed too. The dreams I had for sharing our retirement have been packed away and are gathering dust in the loft, soon to be relegated to the shed and then, from there, into the bin. I cannot see them being recycled so I wonder what a landfill site of dreams would look like.
I sometimes wonder how you put up with the things I do for you though. Some of the food I cook is inedible and indigestible. Which reminds me, I do apologise for the state of the Cavapatti I served up the other day. I thought the cooking instructions said to boil it for 1 minute instead of 10 minutes. I thought it was odd when each piece just shot across the plate and landed on the table.
I know it must seem like I have found out what you dislike and then go and make a dustbin full of it but I assure that is not the case. We need to expand our food variety a little and I just thought pear halves would go well with kippers.
I’m not very good at choosing clothes for you either. The ones I buy for you never fit properly and I am sure they are the wrong colour and of a style that you would not even consider wearing under normal circumstances. Mind you, the Ra Ra skirt, bright yellow tights and luminescent green cardigan do make you stand out in a crowd.
10 years in now and we have reached the quiet time. The wanderings have stopped, the constant cry of, “Going Home” has ceased, the violence has dissipated and the mood swings have all but gone.
I think that now is a good time to take stock. Actually, that is easily done. We are here in this together. I am going nowhere and I am afraid you are stuck with me but, as soon as I feel that you no longer want to be stuck with me, I shall make sure that you will be as happy as you can be wherever it is you want to go. I do have my eyes open for you all the time.
As I said, it’s been a long time and a difficult time as I watch you gradually fade. No one can stop it so we will plod on together and face what is to come. With help from friends and family I am sure we can see it through to the inevitable end, whenever that maybe.
The powers that be, Social Services, Occupational Therapists, Community Mental Health Services are backing off a little at a time and seem incapable or unwilling (or both) to offer further advice on how to overcome the difficulties which sometimes arise.
Their answer to everything seems to be a Residential Home or Daycare 5 times a week. Their answer to getting you in and out of the bath is to give you a strip wash in the bathroom. How undignified is that? Apart from the fact that you will not stand still long enough and we finish up doing the “bathroom waltz” i.e. me chasing you round the bathroom with a soggy sponge, that bathroom floor is very hard on the knees.
It seems that we solve one problem, like the chronic Incontinence from earlier this year, your inability to feed yourself of late last year, when another one pops up. I suppose, when we have conquered the bathing problem something else will arise to test my ingenuity and resourcefulness.
Don’t get me wrong, chuck, I’m not complaining. I still get time to read, in between housework and caring duties and, of course, chatting to friends via the internet helps to break the monotony of your inability to speak or communicate. We still have our music too and the orchestra starts rehearsals early next month which will bring a smile to your face when you get there.
I know it is difficult for you but, from time to time, I just need you to remember that I am no Saint and have no wish to be labelled as such. I just do my best. Sometimes it goes wrong but mostly it goes right.
With love,
Grommit.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Just been sorting some papers out and I see were married in 1967, one day before my 21st birthday and a few months before yours. I make that 44 years. So, we have seen a lot together, done a lot together, struggled to bring the family up and watched them grow into the people they have become.
We always managed to pay the bills, keep out of debt and not have any real stresses of the kind that seems to break families apart these days. Really it’s all thanks to you.
Those times are past now, you cannot remember them. The roles of our lives have been altered. Instead of looking after each other, it’s now my turn to look after you.
You have now reached the age of 65 and will have had Alzheimers Disease for nearly 10 years.
You have changed in so many ways from the 20 year old I married. The list of what you are now unable to do is very long and getting longer almost by the day.
Don’t fret though, as I am retired now and I am here to do it for you and with you so that you still wake up in the morning with a smile and a giggle.
Don’t mind telling you though, it is hard at times. Very very hard. I need every bit of ingenuity to keep you cheerful and every bit of patience to come to terms with the fact that you cannot do today what you so easily did yesterday.
So I have changed too. The dreams I had for sharing our retirement have been packed away and are gathering dust in the loft, soon to be relegated to the shed and then, from there, into the bin. I cannot see them being recycled so I wonder what a landfill site of dreams would look like.
I sometimes wonder how you put up with the things I do for you though. Some of the food I cook is inedible and indigestible. Which reminds me, I do apologise for the state of the Cavapatti I served up the other day. I thought the cooking instructions said to boil it for 1 minute instead of 10 minutes. I thought it was odd when each piece just shot across the plate and landed on the table.
I know it must seem like I have found out what you dislike and then go and make a dustbin full of it but I assure that is not the case. We need to expand our food variety a little and I just thought pear halves would go well with kippers.
I’m not very good at choosing clothes for you either. The ones I buy for you never fit properly and I am sure they are the wrong colour and of a style that you would not even consider wearing under normal circumstances. Mind you, the Ra Ra skirt, bright yellow tights and luminescent green cardigan do make you stand out in a crowd.
10 years in now and we have reached the quiet time. The wanderings have stopped, the constant cry of, “Going Home” has ceased, the violence has dissipated and the mood swings have all but gone.
I think that now is a good time to take stock. Actually, that is easily done. We are here in this together. I am going nowhere and I am afraid you are stuck with me but, as soon as I feel that you no longer want to be stuck with me, I shall make sure that you will be as happy as you can be wherever it is you want to go. I do have my eyes open for you all the time.
As I said, it’s been a long time and a difficult time as I watch you gradually fade. No one can stop it so we will plod on together and face what is to come. With help from friends and family I am sure we can see it through to the inevitable end, whenever that maybe.
The powers that be, Social Services, Occupational Therapists, Community Mental Health Services are backing off a little at a time and seem incapable or unwilling (or both) to offer further advice on how to overcome the difficulties which sometimes arise.
Their answer to everything seems to be a Residential Home or Daycare 5 times a week. Their answer to getting you in and out of the bath is to give you a strip wash in the bathroom. How undignified is that? Apart from the fact that you will not stand still long enough and we finish up doing the “bathroom waltz” i.e. me chasing you round the bathroom with a soggy sponge, that bathroom floor is very hard on the knees.
It seems that we solve one problem, like the chronic Incontinence from earlier this year, your inability to feed yourself of late last year, when another one pops up. I suppose, when we have conquered the bathing problem something else will arise to test my ingenuity and resourcefulness.
Don’t get me wrong, chuck, I’m not complaining. I still get time to read, in between housework and caring duties and, of course, chatting to friends via the internet helps to break the monotony of your inability to speak or communicate. We still have our music too and the orchestra starts rehearsals early next month which will bring a smile to your face when you get there.
I know it is difficult for you but, from time to time, I just need you to remember that I am no Saint and have no wish to be labelled as such. I just do my best. Sometimes it goes wrong but mostly it goes right.
With love,
Grommit.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
