Continuous mourning
Couldn't agree more with Jpr - I feel I have been in a more or less continual state of mourning for the last 7 or 8 years - at first when it was clear that something was very wrong, then when a possible diagnosis of AD was suggested, then throughout 3 or 4 years while the medics tried to find out what the diagnosis actually was (my husband was then in his mid-50s and the presentation wasn't quite typical at that stage) - then when it was confirmed, and also throughout this whole process every time a deterioration appeared every few weeks or months...
And now I am having to go through it all again, as after a week out of hospital to try to see if I could manage now that he is on increased sedation, he had to be readmitted (this time almost certainly for good, either in hospital or a care home). Last Sunday, after a very disturbed evening and then with him getting up and getting dressed (or trying to) at least 10 times between 10pm and 1am, I thought he had fallen asleep properly, and fell asleep myself. I woke at 2am to a strong smell of gas. I rushed downstairs where the smell of gas was overpowering, to find him asleep in the sitting room and a gas tap turned full on (but not lit) in the kitchen. If the Central Heating boiler had started up, we and our neighbours could have been blown to Kingdom Come! I think he thought he was opening a door handle (his main preoccupation).
I turned the gas off, turned the CH thermostat down to 0 degrees, and threw open the doors and windows. I had a terrible headache which I assume was from the gas. I decided that there was no way I could go to sleep after that, and it became clear to me that he had to be admitted ASAP, as I couldn't possibly deal with this by staying awake 24 hours a day.
So first thing Monday I phoned his CPN and he was admitted that day. He actually seems more "at home" in the hospital, as he was extremely confused in the week he was at home, couldn't find the toilet and behaved as though he was in a strange place.
I've had to act reasonably cheerfully over Christmas as my sons and their girlfriends have been visiting and I was invited to Christmas Day at my husband's brother's - but really I feel I just want to crawl into a corner and howl for as long as it takes - but can't be a party pooper. Not a good time to take the next step in losing my dear husband. It's the first Christmas we've spent apart for over 30 years, and our 29th wedding anniversary is on Sunday.
I have had it up to here with being "strong" and presenting a reasonably cheerful and competent face to the world. I want my life back. I would like to tell people who bemoan the loss of a loved one through a sudden heart attack or stroke that they don't know how lucky they are! (Which would be very unkind, I know).
Can one actually ever recover from this prolonged and unresolved state of mourning?
Not a good day.
Love to all of you who know what I'm feeling right now.
Ruthie