Sometimes I tell my wife about things that are going on. Big events, like my mother is in intensive care. We're moving her to hospice in a day or two. She forgets in thirty seconds, but her heart remains in the right place to whatever I share with her. I'm so lucky on that account. She was always a better person than I am. She never has anything new to tell me about her day at the ALF because there is nothing she can remember. Everything new is forgotten within seconds. That's OK.
It took her about eighteen months to adjust to her new home. Now, she's mostly at peace, reasonably contented, always happy to see me come and a little bit saddened to see me go as I put her to bed.
I tell her we're lucky that we've always been each other's best friend -- for as long as we've been together. I tell her I don't see that in a lot of marriages. She agrees.
I think she's a solid stage six, now. She is no longer aware that she has Alzheimer's. She still watches out for and tries to help other residents whom she tells me do have dementia.
As often as I tell her I love her and explain to her why I love her, it's like this is news to her and she is flattered and filled with gratitude.
Other times I ask her, "Are you and I somehow related?"
"I think we must be," she says, and her gaze rises as she searches in vain to name the connection.
With her disappearing long-term memories, sometimes she doesn't seem like the same person, yet her temperament and personality really hasn't changed, much. Again, I'm so lucky on that account. She was my rock.
Because of my depressions, my own memory seems increasingly faulty. I wonder whether it might come back -- whether my own cognitive decline might only be temporary. Time will tell. Whether it does or not often doesn't seem to matter. Sometimes it seems it is better when I forget.
Your so sweet in the way you care for her. You sound like you loved each other very much. I think she still does but can't express it like she did. You say she was your rock! Well now you are her rock. This disease takes away so much!
Tommy, I know exactly what you mean when you talk about your own mental faculties & depression. I'm going through the same thing. Sometimes I wonder which one of us is really losing their mind!! I've heard of caregiver's dementia - it's really the ever-present stress & anxiety, preoccupation with the world of Alzheimer's Disease, the grief & sadness of losing your spouse bit by bit & not being able to do anything about it. My concentration is shot, my interests in other things has disappeared, I lose track of what I'm saying.
It's a disease that can kill both of us, in different ways & on different levels.
Sometimes I'll be in the middle of something and my mind just goes completely blank. Like I forget why I came into this room, or I forget some simple thing that I should know. I think it has something to do with the fact that my mind is mostly still on Larry all the time. I'm still sort of with him instead of really being in the present moment.
It being the weekend, I got to sit with my mother for eight hours today.
It's a long story. She has a Parkinsonism, symptoms of multiple systems atrophy. A week ago her chronic renal failure escalated into apparent acute renal failure -- but it's probably more accurate to call it uremia -- and it was reversed with aggressive hydration with an IV. (She hasn't swallowed a glass of water in ten years. As I said, it's a long story.) During her final five days in the hospital, her creatinine and everything else were all normal. She was discharged and now she is in hospice. Sadly, I think she might be drying out, again. Bedridden, she can't lift a leg, can't lift an arm. Her mind remains sharp but most of her visitors don't know this because it's very difficult for her to speak, so she doesn't, unless it is necessary.
Later, I took a couple movies over to my wife's place. Which one would she want to watch first? Terry Gilliam's The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988) or Alexander Payne's Nebraska (2013)? She didn't know and didn't care. She just loves to watch shows. (Usually I pick them for her but these two, frankly, they were for me. I'm a fan of both Gilliam and Payne.) We went with Nebraska. She laughed with it, a lot.
I've noticed at the care facility where my DH is housed that they make a point of calling me by name every time I visit - as a reminder to my husband of who I am. My picture sits on his window sill as a constant reminder that there must be a connection. Although I think that he is beginning to forget my name, he does still know our connection. And everyone points out that his personality has not changed, which is a blessing. I hope it continues to be the same, as he loves to crack a joke, and is generally a very pleasant person to be around.
The stress of care giving can make us forgetful - not enough sleep combined with all the extra tasks and in some cases depression are a wonderful recipe for forgetfulness on the care giver's part. At one point I was so bad at remembering things that I put notes on the front door of the house so that I would remember why I was going out!
Tommy, you have the extra responsibility of care for your mother, so something (in this case your memory) has to give. Please take care of yourself.
My mother and Larry were in a race to see which was going to go first. My mom died Jan. 15, 2014, and Larry of course on 9/2/14. I know I shouldn't say that I understand how you feel,but I spent a number of years watching both of them declining...sigh. One would have been plenty, much less two. You sound like a gem, Tommy. They are very lucky to have you.