I took a plane to Dallas and went back to work for a few weeks, and it was good…
I GOT ON a plane last month and flew to Dallas to work with a longstanding client, Cleinman Performance Partners. It was the 35th anniversary of the company, which provides all sorts of business consulting to private practice optometrists. A part of that is bring all the member docs together twice a year for wisdom sharing in small groups, as well as other programs.
It’s something I’ve been doing since 2001. I slowed down a few years ago and began to miss it, then COVID hit. I was supposed to go to a meeting this past Fall but Connie was still at home and it was apparent I could not leave her.
It was a wonderful two-plus days with great people doing positive, forward-looking work. I saw old friends and made new ones. I could have floated home on a silver white cloud.
But, there was a dark cloud moving alongside me as well. Connie was not happy. I am learning that fear is a large part of dementia. I have come to realize Connie sees me not just as a husband but as a lifeline, a tie to a past she does not want to lose. She fears losing me, even for three days. And not just losing me in her memory, but physically losing me, as in I won’t come back.
I tried to assure her that our son would be over to see her every day. I tried to assure that in the memory care unit she is surrounded by professional, caring staff. She is safe and secure.
I tried to assure he I would be back, that I have travelled more than a million miles on business, and I always come home. Still….she was anxious. I got phone calls over the three days that sent the fears and tears and anxieties across time and miles and into my ear, then my heart.
She did not weather my absence well. When I went to see her on the night I returned the nurse said “she started being very anxious as soon as you left.”
Yet, I had to leave. I needed it. I needed to be out there, recharging my batteries, putting my feet back onto the path of life. But dementia, it seems, has a short leash and it doesn’t want just the one it has invaded. It wants everyone. It won’t let go, not for a minute, not for three days.
I did enjoy my trip. It gave me strength. I will do it again. But I know I will hear pain through the phone for as long as she knows me and knows I am away. All I will be able to do is try to send love through a phone, across the time and space and hope it is received until the day she no longer knows I am away….
Rich Heiland, has been a reporter, editor, publisher/general manager at daily papers in Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New Hampshire. He was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team at the Xenia Daily (OH) Daily Gazette, a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year. Since 1995 he has operated an international consulting, public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development with major corporations, organizations, and government. Semi-retired, he and his wife live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].