The holidays bring out both the best and the worst in people, just like weddings and funerals. Throw dementia into the mix and you have a crapshoot.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Have I done something to upset you?”
“No.”
“Are you scared? Tired? Hungry? Overwhelmed?”
“No, No, No, and No.”
“Okay, but your body looks unhappy. Do you want to stay home?”
“No.”
He shivers, shakes, stims, stares, and bolts up over the stairs or into the bedroom. So then I guess that he needs quiet, and maybe something to eat. I have no idea.
I cry and he stares at me. He has no idea what to do, so he yells at me to stop. I know in my head that it is the disease. We’ve asked a lot of him, but it doesn’t help my heart.
I put pictures up of the family and I’m told that he looks good. He does. He looks like nothing is broken. He rises to the occasion when we go into public and is wiped by the time we get home. He lays down for a nap and we pray that he will feel better when he wakes. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he just becomes more tired.
We listen to audio books. He likes that. We can listen together and not talk. We watch crime shows together. Same.
The best times of his days are first thing in the morning. We do our separate devotions together on the two ends of the couch. I ask him what he’s learning. He can’t tell me, but he knows that he liked what he read. I tell him about mine. He offers his two cents. He is full of wisdom.
He keeps his mind busy with games on his phone. He can tune people out and concentrate on filling tubes with colors or making words. He rarely reads. He can’t retain the text. However, he still follows a storyline with audiobooks and movies, partially because we can pause it and talk about what is confusing and we are listening together.
He loves music. He especially enjoys the music from the 80’s and 90’s and loves foot stomping worship songs. It is gratifying to see him raise his hands during worship time at church. It is his favorite part of the service.
He still remembers many people. However, he may not recognize them. It sounds like this is a misprint. It is not. We will drive past houses and he will talk about the people that live there, memories from growing up, and stories that bring him joy. However, if he sees those same people in public, even with prompting from me, he has no idea who they are.
He remembers us, but calls us by the wrong names sometimes. However, he knows that we are his people and that we love him. This also means that when he is overstimulated and confused, we are the ones that he is short with. We are safe.
When he is sad, confused, frustrated, angry, and hurt, he comes across as angry and yells. He can’t delineate between emotions. That being said, his kids, grandkids, and I make him the happiest. He’d move heaven and earth for us. His biggest joy is when he repairs or builds something for us. He recently replaced flooring downstairs, took out 2 sliding glass doors and replaced them with windows, created 2 closets form the overhang in the lofts, made a box with our grandson, cupboard doors for the kitchen, and refinished an old child’s desk for me. It blows my mind that there are days he can’t find the right words to complete a sentence, yet he can create a masterpiece in the shop.
We were told that he wouldn’t be here with us at this stage, but he walks, talks, reads, putters, does most of the house chores, and remains very independent. At present, he is putting together a 300 piece puzzle in the loft. It looks like will make our 35th wedding anniversary in May. That is a miracle.
I asked and continue to ask God for more time with good health and mental clarity, and He has been faithful to grant me the desire of my heart. If it means that we have to endure tricky behavior, it is so much better than the alternative.
So as we end this year of 2021, may I focus on what we have and not dwell on the tough stuff. He’s still here and for that I am so very grateful even though dementia is still a jerk.
Recently I have told our doctor that my favorite man has an internal motor that will not stop. He is always puttering. He has an internal drive to run our home like a small farm, because that is what he knows. It is so engrained in him to be busy, that he is either doing a project, drafting a project, or finishing up a project at all times. Number 3 of 6 children on a small dairy farm, work was never “done”. You were just done for the day. I truly believe that this is what is keeping him with us and why he is as clear as he is today.
crlives 