The time has come to let this blog go and to thank you all for coming on our journey

Connie’s decline has become more deep and more rapid and I am running out of things to say. I hope what we’ve shared has helped you if you are on your own journey.

            TIME TO GO.

            When I started writing this blog I was at the beginning of a journey without a road map and with a destination that was known but out of sight at the end of what I knew would be a twisty, curvy road.

            Now, as I approach the two-year anniversary of Connie going into memory care, and the three-year anniversary of the first real signs of decline, I’ve decided it’s time to let this blog go.

            I have run out of things to say. In the beginning I was learning, and I wanted to share what I was learning, experiencing, with others who might find themselves on a similar path. I hoped it would help, and I hope it has.

            Now, though, I find it harder to sit down and share, mainly because each day seems more and more like a “Groundhog Day.” We are nearing the end. We can see it now.

      I SAT DOWN with a senior aide in Connie’s memory care unit this week and we talked about her downward spiral, what I could expect going forward, what I should or should not be doing. This is a woman who has been at this a while and I can’t imagine there is any aspect of dementia, and its impact on victims and families, that she has not seen.

            I asked her to help me understand where we are on our journey, going back to when Connie came into unit on Jan. 24, 2024.

            “If you wanted to say she 100 percent of herself, as a starting point then,” the aide said. “She’s about 30 percent now.”

            She went over things that have been happening regularly. Connie walking out into the unit without her clothes on, lost. Connie tearing off her adult diapers in the night and wetting the bed and then having to be kept out of her unit while the mattress dries. Her inability to sit still and eat – constant standing up, walking away, pushing food away. Not taking in liquids. Not coming out of her room to participate in activities. She has speech aphasia so even when she is with others, she cannot speak.

            Connie walks slowly now, hunched over, tiny steps. When she stands up she reaches for anything she can grab onto to steady herself, including me if I am near. “Her right leg has something going on,” the aide told me. “We are getting close to where she is going to have to go into a wheel chair.”

            The aide told me she thinks we need to take Connie’s cell phone away, and maybe not come down to the unit so much. She is the only person in the unit who still has a cell. She calls me often and when I answer, she doesn’t know why she called. So, I’ve stopped answering.

            “When you tell her you are coming she gets anxious. She won’t come out of her room and involve herself with activities because she says ‘my husband is coming.’ It’s hard for us, as staff, to work with her.”

            She asked me point blank “why are you paying us all this money if you can’t get on with your life?”

            It’s a fair question and I have answer. It’s the same one my son probably would give. We know the days are limited where Connie knows who we are and so each day is precious. Once she no longer knows us, looks at us with blank stares, there will be no getting those days back. But, I take the aide’s point. And I accept her view that we are getting more and more close to that day. I see it every time I am with Connie.

            SO, WHAT DOES this have to do with this blog? I no longer have anything to say. I don’t have any more advice to give and too often when I sit down to start a post, I look at what I am typing and it reads with a whine. So, as I look into a new year I am thinking it is time to maybe leave this blog behind. It has served its purpose – for me and I hope you who read it.

            I have another blog and no doubt from time to time I will talk about Connie and how things are going. This one is paid in advance so I will leave it up until it expires for those who might want to check back on some topics.

            I want to thank all of you who have taken this journey with our family. Your feedback, your thoughts, your friendship and love are appreciated more than you ever will know, and not just by me. Connie knows you are there, too.

            So, with that, time to sign off and move on to whatever comes next. Happy holidays!

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].