Recently a friend's husband developed a serious medical issue. After a period of unsuccessful treatment, he made the decision to undergo major surgery in the hope of taking care of the problem.
As my friend was telling me about this, I wondered if it was safe to let her husband make that kind of decision. Honest to goodness, I've been doing this for so long that I actually forgot for a minute that not everyone's spouse has dementia! Of course he would make his own decision about what treatment to pursue!
Even though this was a situation out of a nightmare for my friend, I realized that the worry she was dealing with was not increased by the extra burden of having to be the one to make the decision about her husband's care, and wondering if she had made a decision that would end his life.
I thought for a while tonight about the many normal things in life--things people take completely for granted--that are no longer part of my life. They've been gone so long that it really does surprise me sometimes to realize that other people still enjoy them. After a quick trip through this idea--sort of like my life flashing before my eyes--I decided this is a topic best left undisturbed for now. It feels like an emotional root canal, without the benefit of anesthetic.
Jan K, I can feel that root getting ripped out of my mouth as I write this! I can relate to how you feel. All this decision making takes its toll since it's your spouse's life you are making decisions about. My problem is not that I have a momentary lapse in memory that everyone is not like me and has a spouse with Alzheimer's rather it's front and center that they are not like me and still have the ability to talk about the situation, discuss with their partner what the options are, express their fears and get that love and moral support in return. All of that is gone for me and it's such an empty, lonely feeling. I wonder if/when I won't feel that way anymore. My husband is still here but even when he's gone the empty, lonely feeling will not be. I need some of that anesthetic right about now, how about you?
That was part of the challenge figuring out who to have as DPOW for my husband in case something happened to me and for me. It had to be a person willing to deal with making all the life and death decisions, someone willing to carry out our wishes even if they did not agree.
Sass. I feel alone too! My husband just keeps getting worse,that's a given! But it's tearing me apart to have to watch. It's horrible. These life and death d visions that you know are not going to end well, no matter what you decide.
KY caregiver, as alone as we may feel in the day to day, we are not alone here. We have an extended "family" of brothers and sisters who have traveled the journey already and those that are still in the trenches like us to give us advice, counsel, an ear to listen, support and encouragement. I have to remind myself to check in and make myself known and not to just disappear into to the depression and despair that can sometimes take hold. I visited my husband today and he was a bit out of sorts. He's had another bout of anxiousness, agitation and wandering since the lady that used to dine at his table at the ALF passed away a week ago. He was used to having her there and her husband who would feed her. She had Lewy body dementia and for the time I knew her she was fairly bad off. My DH used to try to make her laugh. I found out he tried to get out again. He wears a GPS watch that they monitor so they can track him down when he gets like that. He's been a flight risk since day one, although now his physical strength and abilities are not what they were a year ago. I will be talking with the drs about his condition and making a decision about whether its time to bring in Hospice. Yet, another life decision. I will need to understand this better, but others here have offered me advice about this. Come to this safe place when you need a "virtual" hug and someone to tell you it's going to be okay... and when I say "ok" I mean that we will get through it in whatever way preserves our sanity and health when it's all said and done. Here, these people, are the supportive "family" that we all need. I, for one, am so glad I found them.