So, I said I was done with this blog but Dementia, evil being that it is, had other plans

OOPS. GUESS I was wrong.

            I said back in December I was bringing this blog to an end because I had nothing left to say or share. Then Dementia weighed in a sneer and snicker and showed me we were not done with our journey.

            I sat in my car and cried today because for the first time I accepted that there is an end in sight and it comes with confusion, loss and guilt.

            That has come to me in just the last two weeks. That’s how fast things changed.

            Connie can hardly walk any more. She has not been coming out for meals. I think it is because she is afraid to walk. She totters now. A couple of times staff have told me they have to hold her up. She sleeps constantly and always complains about being tired. She no longer calls me in the morning. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t realize it is morning or she no longer can manage the phone.

            New Year’s Eve the staff told me she had not come out for dinner, but they had saved her a plate. I went back to her room and turned on the lights and told her she had to eat. I walked her out. Short, shuffling steps. She leaned on me. I had to hold her up the entire way. I cut up her food, and she ate most of it. When I took her back to her room I used a wheelchair. I put her in her chair but after 10 minutes she was sleep, so told the staff to come get her ready for bed and I left.

            Things were not much different New Year’s Day. She had eaten all three meals, and we did watch some TV, but the speech aphasia is such she could not really tell me how she was feeling.

            FAST FORWARD to this morning. A talk with the senior aide. The use of the wheelchair is now situational. It is time for the hospital bed. 

            I took her laundry into her unit. She was in bed. I turned on the light and said “hi” and she said “hi.” I put her laundry away, cleaned up a few things then laid down in bed with her. I hugged her, put my face up against hers and told her I loved her and said replied the same.

            On the way out I told the aide I could not believe how much change had occurred in just two weeks. She said it was significant. I got a bit misty and said, “I don’t think she will be with us much longer.” The aide didn’t disagree. But what do we know?

            I got in the car and just sat there and quietly cried. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. I just felt so tired and empty, the kind of emptiness that comes when there really is nothing you can do any more, except be there.

            That’s why I’ve revived this blog, for however long….My main reason for writing it was to help others on this journey or maybe facing it. I realize now that you can’t declare this journey over until it’s over. You can’t predict that what is today won’t change for the worse tomorrow just because you think it cannot get any worse. And, writing it is one way to remove the feelings of emptiness and helplessness. 

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. He also writes the blog stuffonmymind.blog. Semi-retired, he and his wife live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].