"I always ask him as few questions (on any subject) as possible.
I wait for him to tell me
I don't know if it is a good policy
For instance, we never speak of his illness. Yet there would be so much to say and so many decisions to make."
Margherita, I have just caught up with your story. My heart goes out to you. You are in the trickiest phase of this dreadful journey, where the PWD is in that in-between stage of believing they are still independent and capable, yet they lack insight into their condition so will not accept that they need help...it is so, so difficult to manage.
Just to reassure you, yes your policy IS a good one. Best not to ask questions if it can be avoided, as thinking and decision-making become too difficult for the PWD. If you do need to ask a question, try to keep it closed, e.g. "Would you like tea or coffee?" rather than "What would you like to drink?"
Sadly, the decisions about his illness will probably fall to you from now on, so perhaps it's a good thing not to discuss it with him, especially if it makes him angry. Unfortunately, I fear not being able to discuss things with him will only increase your sense of isolation. I feel bad writing this, but I do so with the kindest intention of helping you to come to terms with your situation. I hope I have not upset you, and I apologise if I have.
It's very difficult to predict how your journey will develop over time, because everyone's experience of this dreadful disease is different. It's also evident that not everyone experiences all aspects of the illness. I will tell you my story as briefly as I can, just to illustrate how unpredictable things can be.
Not so long ago, I was also in what seemed to be an impossible and interminable situation. I was caring for both my parents-in-law in their own home. They had both developed dementia at the same time and were deteriorating in different ways, but (apart from FIL's mobility issues) they seemed quite well physically. I was convinced at one stage that they would outlive me! Neither of them believed they had the illness, nor did they understand each other's condition. In their own minds they were perfectly OK! FIL was reasonably compliant, but MIL was highly resistant to ANY attempts to care for her.
Last year, things came to a head when FIL needed a minor operation to repair a hernia. A couple of weeks after the operation, he contracted sepsis and died in hospital. MIL then deteriorated very quickly as a result of the stress and grief, to the point where she became a danger to herself and to others. A few weeks after he died, she was admitted to a care home, and has stayed there ever since. The transition was drastic and shocking for the whole family, but in one sense we were lucky in that we were spared the agonies of trying out different 'solutions' (such as day centres, more care visits or respite care) that ultimately would not have worked.
I wish you well, Margherita, and please keep us updated with your news.