Ever wonder where something is or the name of a tune when all of a sudden it’s “there”?
Maybe AD is kind of like this when thoughts clarify however briefly.
Yesterday I was doing our routine after lunch: wash his hands with lots of soap, face,brush teeth, comb hair, clean eyeglasses and underarms, deodorant, shave if necessary and toilet him.
Its’ actually funny because I have to kind of kiss hiss royal behind (no offence meant) to keep him off guard and occupied while I sneakily do my thing.
He was not cooperating enough for me to get things done so I’d give him a quick kiss or a hug in the middle of a “chore”. He’d laugh and I’d quickly proceed.
After one hug, he said, “you’re crazy” but was really laughing. Just then an aide walked in (who he relates to well). “Hey, Debbie, Wayne things I’m crazy.”
“Long as you think I’m Ok” and was of course kidding around. He answered laughing that she was Ok but pointed to me and said I was crazy. (If it gets the job done, my dear.)
Anyway, we all laughed hard and I told him he was in the dog house now.
His response??? “Been there.”
Over the years I have seen, heard and experienced many things with this cursed Alz disease but some images of life haunt me.
The other day I arrived on the ward, Wayne’s door was closed (locked) which is unusual, at least recently.
I peered in the window to see him sitting peacefully on his bed with “something” in his hand. I called a nurse who unlocked it.
“What do we have here, Wayne?” she asked.
He handed her his “treasure” – a couple pieces of dried waffle.
This image will haunt me forever and as I write, am in tears.
My BIL said even prisoners have a more comfortable room than Wayne has – we understand as he pretty much destroys whatever is in the room. I understand the necessity but cannot accept or fathom in my heart. I hate you, AD, hate you.
So yesterday was float day after lunch.
It was touching to see the activity aides offer Cream soda, Root beer or Orange crush. It didn’t dawn on me til I got home but those are the flavors we all enjoyed years ago – and still do.
Anyway, my biggest observation was that even residents deep into their disease seems to lighten up and convey that, “Yes, they would like a float.”
there’s something about ice cream that remains in the brain for a long, long time and I’m happy it does:)
I rarely shop at Costco now – years ago we would pile our cart high with goodies, most of it impulse, I’m sure.
After all the hard work of shopping, berry sundae time. (Costco’s little food area makes a mean sundae)
We’d sit across from one another slurping our sundae, probably dropping some and making noises of joy.
After more than four years of not being able to partake of the ritual, today I decided was the day.
Sitting there eating my sundae, lost in thought – looked up and across the table for him. The chair was empty.