JOAN’S BLOG – WED/THUR, JUNE 22/23, 2011 – HE RETURNED

There have been so many varying emotions between my husband and me related to my recent surgery, that it has been difficult to choose which ones to write about for my first post surgery blog. After 4 years of writing these blogs, I am convinced that the ones that resonate with my readers the most are the ones in which my brutally honest thoughts and feelings are expressed openly and truthfully.

It is with that in mind that I write today about the return of my husband. I know he returned for a very short time;  I know he will leave again for a longer period of time than the last, but oh, the sweetness of seeing and feeling him again.

As most of you are aware, my sister came from Chicago to take care of me for 9 days after my shoulder surgery. She kept the house running smoothly – shopping, doing laundry, feeding, dressing, icing, and medicating me; keeping an eye on Sid and his blood sugar; as well as checking on my father at the ALF next door.  

She does have a job, family, and life ½ way across the country, so on Tuesday, June 14th, she went home. How unfortunate that was the day I came down with a still undiagnosed illness, the consequences of which were nasty beyond explanation. Fever, weakness, unpleasantness from both body ends, and generally unable to do anything for myself. It also happened to be the day my home health aide, who was hired to take over from my sister, experienced an automobile breakdown.

So there I was, flat on my back, with only one workable arm, and a mentally and physically disabled husband. He was worried sick about me, but no longer has the ability to think independently or make decisions on his own. He wanted desperately to help, but did not know what to do without me telling him. My heart broke to hear my once strong, capable, “take charge”, independent husband continually ask what he should do for me. On the other hand, my heart swelled with love to watch him wobble along on his walker to bring me whatever I needed, from ice water to jello, to an ice pack for my shoulder.

By the end of the day, his feet, knees, and legs hurt so much, he could not bear the pain it took for him to get into bed. And as he got into bed, it happened - my husband appeared - the one I had before Alzheimer’s Disease robbed him from me. He said, “You always take care of me. It’s my turn to take care of you. We’re still a team, you know.”

With those simple words, all the love, closeness, partnership, and passion, we have shared for 41 years came flooding back to me. Somewhere inside the brain that Alzheimer’s Disease has ripped apart, there is still the essence of the man I fell in love with when I was 21 years old. He is still in there. I miss him desperately. How I wish he would appear more often, but I am full of joy for this current appearance, however short it will be.

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