I just woken up, it’s 0.800, got a cup of tea and biscuit and I’m now back in bed typing this.
Immediately I wake I feel a sense of fear, real fear, at what I’ll find when I visit the home this morning. I could take the easy way out and not go but I’d regret it I know because I’d feel I was letting her down. That’s irrational I know because she wouldn’t be aware of me not going.
The whole business of going to see her has changed from a neutral, more or less the same thing every time ( flowers, little walk, chat), to seeing someone who has dramatically changed from the result of her fall. I’m told she’s not eating as usual.
So let’s talk about dying if I could. Is it so bad and horrible of me to want this all to stop? I seem to sense that people know what’s going to happen, that this could be the downward movement towards death but, of course, no one mentions anything to me
( elephant in the room). If she’s gone I’d be the same here, on my own, but I’d be free of this endless worry and uncertainty. I’d be grieving at her passing but I grieve anyway, so in many ways my world would change, but not dramatically.
Or am I fooling myself? Would Bridget’s death devastate me in ways I can’t imagine? I mean it’s not like she was ok and stepped under a bus, there one day gone the next.
Do dementia sufferers sense their mortality or are they like animals, blissfully unaware? I suffer but I’m reliably told that Bridget doesn’t, that she’s content ( is she?) in her dementia bubble.
I sure that once the visits over and I’m back home I’ll probable be ok - till the next time.
peterx