Dearest Geraldine, I send to you Light and Love to you both. Our pain is great but our love is far greater.
To care for someone as deeply as you, I and so many on here do for someone so close to our hearts, love just Love, it does not matter one iota if love is one way.
The is only Oneness in true Love. You and Keith know this. All blessings Alice. Xxx

 

In general science is proving that awareness is there even when it is not apparent. Several neuroscientists have had to rethink when the have recovered from a coma or near death experience. Some have had to tear up what they were taught.
Sound, touch and love, do affect at the deepest level. Kindred is doing all the right thins instinctively through love. The fact she still empathises with other residents, proves just how deep her love is.
You are right, Kindred, 'Man's search for meaning' could help others.

 

I agree. I have always remembered them from the film. I don`t remember the name of the film but I remember the poem it was so inspirational it is etched on my heart.

I can visualise that Izzy.

 

Thank you. Now I remember.

 

Thank you. I am struggling to cope with no response from my OH when I visit him now. He is permanently confined to bed and thankfully eating and drinking well but he does not communicate at all just stares at me as if he is trying to work out who I am. I chat, smile and when he lets me , hold his hand. Hold cheerful conversations with the Carers when they come into his room. Take him in chocolate which he seems to enjoy but each time I leave I am heartbroken and I’m finding it harder to go in now . I used to go in every day but now only three times a week as I am so emotionally drained after my visit. When I am at home I chat away to his photos around the house and when I open my phone (I have a lovely picture of him as my screen saver) all photos of him as he used to be and in my mind still is. I suppose that is why when I see the reality it hits so hard. Reading your post makes me realise that I have to get past this feeling that he Isn’t him and he is still my lovely man inside there.

 

Hi Geraldine aka Kindred:

You are such a kind and have such a loving soul. My mother-in-law were similar to you always having something nice to say about everyone. So easy to talk to.

People talk in different ways, some with a soft voice, others with an aggressive voice, some with excitement in their voices, others in a high pitched voice (like mine) and people have different ways of listening, some want to hear only the good, others hear only the good, others have selective hearing, others hear only voices at certain levels. But as far as I know there is only two types of touch - the SOFT & GENTLE touch & the aggressive touch. In hospitals nurses always touch their patients because it brings them warmth and a sense of calmness.

I'm sure your husband feels much warmth & comfort that you are there & just gently & lovingly stroking his hands.

Many cyber hugs & love sent your way.

 

While someome knows no one is lost, and God/Love always knows.
I hold you both in the Light and my love. Xx

If your ears burned to it was because I mentioned you. I am staying in a care home with my husband on respite.
The lift has broken down this on this wing. Staff are carrying trays and wondering how to get some to bed.
It is an old house. My muscles are not very happy either! I also mention you when I spoke of slipping in to the family, unlike you I do not sing!
All blessings to you both. Alice xxx

 

Hi Geraldine
Stay strong, they say that one of the last senses to go is hearing, so although Keith may not always appear to be responsive, he will know that you are with him and take comfort xx

 

Just to let you know that I am here and listening - and holding you both in my thoughts and prayers.
Sending my love

XX

 

On the day that he died (from cancer, he did not have dementia) and had stopped responding to anything, I kissed my Dad for what turned out to be the last time. To my astonishment he wrinkled his face and in my mind I could hear his cry of "whiskers" as my beard tickled his cheek. Never give up on the power of touch even in the most trying circumstances.

 

Sorry that you are in this situation.

Also sorry to ask you to consider - 'Is he dying because he is not eating or not eating because he is dying?'
Part of the process of the body shutting down.

 

Hi @kindred - I love poetry and was intrigued about the Gavin Ewart poem (a poet whom I have not read much). I tried to find it but unfortunately it was not to be - all I found was this bit from the NY Times:

'There are very affecting poems that confront head-on the indignity of age. ''The Late Eighties,'' about his mother, which begins ''To her / I am a coloured blur,'' ends, poignantly: I toucht the body changed so much, she understands some tenderness through bony arms and hands. Contact is joining and a fact; we once were one, and touching's how all lovemaking gets done".'

I was also intrigued by this, so poignantly amusing, but couldn't find it either:
'''In the Old People's Home (1914)'' allegorizes about such vessels as H.M.S. Incontinent, H.M.S. Repetitive, H.M.S. Wanderer and H.M.S. Vainglorious in their ''last anchorage,'' attended by ''the officious tugs Snapper and Orderly.'' Mr. Ewart seems haunted by the realization that ''a good many lasts have taken place already'' and outraged by what awaits everyone in indifferent and sterile modern institutions'.

So, so sorry that Keith is refusing to eat. Whilst I cannot and would never speculate on his and your situation, when my Mum was eating next to nothing her habits were so akin to a teenage anorexic (secretiveness; hiding food; disguising reasons for not eating; insisting everyone else had loads; thinking she was fat when she was tiny) that I mentioned to many health professionals and friends alike, that this seemed to be a form of dementia led anorexia. It seemed as if eating was the one thing she felt able to control when all her other abilities were failing her.

Much, much love to you both and wishing I could give you a proper hug rather than just a virtual one!

XX