Late last night (Wednesday) my OH started to get the wandering around thing going. Lounge, dining room, kitchen, stairs, bedroom, bathroom and picking up and putting down random objects. This has recently become his before bed routine so I thought nothing of it.
He came downstairs wearing PJ's, dressing gown and odd shoes and started to try and make his way out the front door. He managed to get the safety chain off but coudn't find the key. His behaviour was very odd - distressed, agitated, almost possessed - like a wind up toy gone wrong. I tried to speak to him but he made no sense whatever, just saying he had to get out and that he was scared and trusted no-one and the house was evil. This went on for a while - until gone 01.30 am. I finally agreed to go into the garden with him and he made off for the back gate which leads under the carport and eventually to the street via a locked gate that, again, he had no key to. It was dark, cold, damp and drizzly but he insisted he had to get away, didn't want me near him and would rather be somewhere else.
I managed to get him to return to the garden where he refused to enter the house saying he would spend all night outside. Slowly, I encouraged him back indoors. He sat, still with the back door open, wanting to escape from some dreadful something. His agitation made him quite aggressive. I was frightened *for* him and *by* him.
By 02.45 or so I'd got him to agree to sit on the sofa and close the back door. After more cajoling (and a little blackmail) he came upstairs but refused to get into bed and stated he'd sit as he was, on the side of the bed all night. More blackmail from me (I won't sleep if you don't and I'll be ill in the morning) resulted in him finally agreeing to get out of his dressing gown and footwear and lay down under the quilt where he finally relaxed. It was almost 04.30 by that time. Amongst all this I'd managed to get him to accept his Donepezil and Mirtazapine by mimicking with me taking a double dose of my statin tab.
I really don't know what brought this on - it was as if a switch had been flicked. I was seriously considering calling the Crisis team but didn't have the number and didn't dare leave him alone.
Today - he's his usual old slow, mumbling self , knowing something happened and has apologised over and over and is concerned the neighbours were disturbed or thought he was off his rocker.
I've never seen him like he was in the the midst of whatever it was but I know it was a very dodgy time . I'll admit I was scared for my own safety as well as his. I've since put the Crisis team number on my mobile. I'll find the general number for whoever I need to talk to and see if there's a possibility of a meds review.
It's been a funny old day. Sort of empty and worn out. I hope the devil had fun playing with us.
He came downstairs wearing PJ's, dressing gown and odd shoes and started to try and make his way out the front door. He managed to get the safety chain off but coudn't find the key. His behaviour was very odd - distressed, agitated, almost possessed - like a wind up toy gone wrong. I tried to speak to him but he made no sense whatever, just saying he had to get out and that he was scared and trusted no-one and the house was evil. This went on for a while - until gone 01.30 am. I finally agreed to go into the garden with him and he made off for the back gate which leads under the carport and eventually to the street via a locked gate that, again, he had no key to. It was dark, cold, damp and drizzly but he insisted he had to get away, didn't want me near him and would rather be somewhere else.
I managed to get him to return to the garden where he refused to enter the house saying he would spend all night outside. Slowly, I encouraged him back indoors. He sat, still with the back door open, wanting to escape from some dreadful something. His agitation made him quite aggressive. I was frightened *for* him and *by* him.
By 02.45 or so I'd got him to agree to sit on the sofa and close the back door. After more cajoling (and a little blackmail) he came upstairs but refused to get into bed and stated he'd sit as he was, on the side of the bed all night. More blackmail from me (I won't sleep if you don't and I'll be ill in the morning) resulted in him finally agreeing to get out of his dressing gown and footwear and lay down under the quilt where he finally relaxed. It was almost 04.30 by that time. Amongst all this I'd managed to get him to accept his Donepezil and Mirtazapine by mimicking with me taking a double dose of my statin tab.
I really don't know what brought this on - it was as if a switch had been flicked. I was seriously considering calling the Crisis team but didn't have the number and didn't dare leave him alone.
Today - he's his usual old slow, mumbling self , knowing something happened and has apologised over and over and is concerned the neighbours were disturbed or thought he was off his rocker.
I've never seen him like he was in the the midst of whatever it was but I know it was a very dodgy time . I'll admit I was scared for my own safety as well as his. I've since put the Crisis team number on my mobile. I'll find the general number for whoever I need to talk to and see if there's a possibility of a meds review.
It's been a funny old day. Sort of empty and worn out. I hope the devil had fun playing with us.