Hot Woman! Or Well done.

I’ve been living in the pain and trauma of having to move my husband to memory care.  It has been a difficult time these past two months.  We’ve both struggled through the adjustment to our lives.  He can’t truly understand what is happening to him and was very angry, frustrated and certain that I didn’t love him, was wanting a divorce and probably already had a man (or woman) in the wings, ready to move on. Visits were traumatic for both of us, as he railed about why I was doing this to him. He was very agitated and sometimes devolved into bad behavior.  It was heartbreaking to see him go through this and not be able to do or say anything that would help him.  But I kept visiting, I couldn’t abandon him.  Most days I would come home from visiting him and sink into some kind of state in order to cope.  Wondering how our life together had to end this way.  It is a horrible disease and it is so painful to see the man I love go out this way.  I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.  Every one in our life has been so supportive, but the pain is ours to go through and nothing takes that away.

But, nothing ever stays the same.  Life goes on and we all eventually find our way as we walk through the trauma.  Ignore, sink into depression, medicate if we choose, walk away, hide, ignore the responsibilities of life, etc.  I’ve done it all.  But, I’m no quitter. I’ve always had the compulsion to keep living and figuring out my life.  I often don’t like what life hands me, but I need to find that peace in my heart and move on and keep living the best life I can. I eventually refuse to bow down and make my choices to be able to find my definition of quality of life for me. So, I keep doing what I need to do and walk through it.

This past week or so, things started to change.  He seems to have started adjusting to his new life.  He has reached some level of understanding that this is where he needs to be for now.  He’s not so angry with me, he just wants to be back home living with me.  He’s accepted that he needs to be there at least through my surgery in September and the resulting time for me to recover.  He really hopes he can get better and come home.  I don’t disabuse him of that notion, as it breaks my heart knowing that Alzheimer’s doesn’t get better and I can’t take that last bit of hope from him.

Our visits have become easier for both of us and the last several visits have actually been enjoyable. Pieces of the man I love are still there and I revel in the joy of that.  One of the many things I love about him is his sense of humor.  He has great one-liners that surprise you and just make you burst into laughter and sometimes the urge to throw something.  Yesterday, we were sitting in the truck in the shade as it was a miserably hot and humid day.  He reached over to touch my arm and made a comment about how hot my skin was (I’m a freeze baby and typically not so warm).  I responded with a grin and said “Hot Woman!”  He said “or well done.”  I burst into laughter and agreed that given my age and current physical condition, well done was also a good description.  I’m getting great pleasure out of enjoying the pieces of him that are still there.  He is still desperately in love with me and just wants to be with me.  My visits are always a complete surprise to him, even though I told him on the phone 20 minutes earlier that I was on my way to see him.  He respects the time with me and no longer fights as hard against going back.  Instead of “Fuck you, bitch” for leaving him, now it’s several loving kisses and see you tomorrow.  

I have to tell you about my favorite story about his one-liners.  Years ago we were heading up north on our motorcycles to meet up with the club.  Since he was on an afternoon shift sleeping cycle, getting going at an early time with the club was challenging.  So, often we would leave the night before and meet up with them on the way.  This time, we drove up to my parent’s place and stayed in a little trailer my mom had next to her blueberry patches she was growing to sell “pick your own.”  The trailer had a somewhat old lock on it and I struggled to get it open.  He came and opened it easily.  I was amazed and asked him how he did it so easily.  He said “first, you have to be smarter than the lock.”  Okayyyyy.  The next morning as we were getting ready to leave, he’s packing up the bike and there I am trying to get that damn lock locked.  As I’m cussing it out, he yells out “Pretend you’re smarter than the lock.”  That time he was lucky there were some trees between us, or I would have thrown that f’ing lock at him, but I had to laugh at his response.  That’s my man!