24 Little Hours
A day in the home of a family caring for someone with memory loss/dementia of any variation, bears little resemblance to the average routine you probably experience daily. Let me elucidate!
Some days are full of excessive challenges. I can hear Dinah Washington rich voice singing, “What a difference a day makes…24 little hours.”
My 24-hour day began yesterday at noon when Hubby proclaimed that he wanted to return to Melabev, the club which he has attended three times a week for six years. I was delighted. An afternoon of quiet to do whatever tasks had been lurking in the recesses of my brain, which needed attention. One cannot focus when Hubby demands attention every few minutes. Chores, like online banking, scheduling appointments, filling in forms, ordering medications, making important telephone calls, all require focus and quiet. If Hubby is within ear-shot of a telephone call, he first demands to know who I am talking to, then draws irrelevant conclusions as to the purpose of the call from the one side of the conversation he is hearing, and lastly tells me to get off the phone as the call has gone on too long.
The moment Hubby left to begin his adventures at day-care, I began searching through the tight storage space under our stairs where I found a piece of luggage with all its wheels attached. After two years of solitary confinement, it needed some TLC, so I dusted it, checked that the zipper was not broken and I took it up to my bedroom to begin packing for the “secret” trip to our apartment in France. There are important items not to be forgotten, like face masks, mayonnaise, plastic baggies and matzo meal. I have lists everywhere and am beginning to get organized. I have placed the suitcase next to my bed, on the far side of the room. One can see it, but I have placed Hubby’s hats on it to mask what lurks below. I have removed his winter hats from his room as he will demand to put on a heavy wool tweed chapeau in 90-degree weather. It is easier to simply put only two summer hats out for him to select, without confusion. He noticed that the hats were missing a few days ago and demanded to see his “thirty hats.” I brought him to my room and he was satisfied that they were safe, not thirty, but a substantial selection indeed.
Although I digress, and you undoubtedly are wondering why the hats, suitcase, and other sundry items are the least bit relevant to this entry. There is actually a reason why I am sharing these tidbits with you. Be patient!
As a reward for the blessed hours of freedom, I suggested that we meet when the “club finishes”- at dinnertime, at Hubby’s favorite restaurant. Violet accompanies him throughout the day, and they were already seated when I arrived. A full report on his return to the club was waiting for me:
“It has gone downhill. It was boring. The food was still terrible. I refused to
eat it.”
It was a day like many other Melabev days in the past. Hubby’s mantra has never varied. The recording in his head spews forth in spite of the fact that he actually enjoys the programming that Melabev offers. He would not know if the food is edible or not- as he flatly refuses to taste anything they serve him. The good news however, was that Hubby would be ravenous as he had not eaten since breakfast!
Onwards and upwards, dinner was ordered. The same meal that he has eaten at this same restaurant for years. The one he loves. The only one he will accept. Two bites into the meal, he announces he cannot eat the pasta.
“It has too much sauce.” Violet takes the raviolis out of the sauce and puts them on a separate plate.
“I am going to vomit.”
This is a daily threat when he does not want to eat something. This time he “delivers.” He vomits the food into multiple napkins and I lose my appetite completely. Another meal ruined for us all. I cannot remove myself from the table and eat elsewhere. I did scan the room, but the tables were all occupied. We just needed to get to the end of this lovely event. A bit of time passed and Hubby said:
“Perhaps some dessert?”
“Why not?” I muse… calories are calories…a healthy diet is no longer a consideration for Hubby. Eat something! Eat anything…and I will be content. With amazing aplomb, Hubby “tucks-in” to the sizable apple pie a la mode. He finishes the ice cream easily, and his appetite is satisfied. (Why in heaven could he eat the rich ice cream and apple pie without becoming ill once again? Is it really psychological?) All I want, is to pay the bill and go home. In my entirely grumpy frame of mind, I proclaim:
“There is no reason for us to go to restaurants anymore. You eat two bites and reject the food here just like at home. However, here they give me a hefty bill for
the food and the unpleasant experience.”
It doesn’t matter what I say, I just need to vent. He can’t help me with this one. It is what it is. We used to eat out for lunch every day, now I would rather meet a friend for a meal or stay home completely. Hubby’s dining proclivities at mealtimes, removes all my pleasure from the experience.
Then the day flowed into night. Hubby slept well. I was drained and fell into a deep unconsciousness. At 8 AM (yes, we were still in the same 24 hour period), Hubby entered my room and jolted me out of my reverie:
“Who is that sleeping in the bed next to you!?” he demands an answer.
“What are you talking about?”
“Who is it? “
“There is no one here.”
There are all kinds of things on the other side of our queen-sized bed, but no men that I can locate. Violet encourages him to leave me alone so that I can sleep. Ten minutes later he returns. He decided that he could “sneak up” on my lover and “beat him up.” This is what he told Violet before re-entry. Alas, there was no lover there… Foiled again!
My concern was not that he would find “mon amour” but that he might notice the suitcase placed next to the bed, adorned with his winter hats perched on high. He did not.
My plans proceed for departure. It has been a very long time since I have gone anywhere without Hubby. I am trying to remember the last time I took a trip on my own. I am sure it was when Hubby was still skiing in Sun Valley and I went to Tucson to visit our son and go to their annual International Gem show. I was designing one-of-a-kind jewelry from amazing stones found in their natural state. Another story for another time. It must be more than ten years since we have been separated for even a day. As I take pen to paper (or should it be “take fingers to keyboard?) I am shocked by my own recollections. The last fifteen years have been full of Hubby’s two bouts of cancer, radiation and chemotherapy treatments, surgeries, fractured bones, and heart issues, followed by memory loss (by any other name it is the same). Still, it did not prepare me for 24 little hours like we had today.
Whatever awaits me, this break from Hubby is critical. It is time to take care of myself before I shatter. I do not have a “Wifey” to pick up my broken pieces. Heaven-forbid I might need one someday. There really is no time in my very long 24-hour day, to even consider such a possibility!
