I was comparing Ativan to the chocolate sprinkles some places put on ice cream, but I should have put “sprinkles” in quotes to make that clear. When my husband gets anxious, instead of trying to get him to take a pill (which he often resists), I crush an Ativan pill and put the powder in ice cream or applesauce.
The only thing that worked with DH toward the end was to give him some Seroquel just before dinner, because that was when he would start getting upset and wanting to "go home." It was heartbreaking and difficult…he wanted the old neighborhood in New York with his parents, brothers and sisters. Most of them had been dead for years.
Almost the last words DH spoke to me was two weeks before he died. Those words were "I need to leave tonight to go home and check on my Mother and Dad because they aren't well." He could barely walk without help and he was determined that night to 'leave'. They both had been dead for many, many years. I convinced him to wait until morning so we could enjoy the ride. But, those words will be forever burned into my memory.
I could have written any one of these letters. This going home is so frustrating but, it seems, all too common. I wonder if going home represents a time and place when they weren't confused. It's so sad.
My husband wants to go home in the evenings. I've wants to see his parents, and childhood home. I tell him please stay with me, and we'll go tomorrow morn. Seems to work