|Heading Home from the Hospital|
This latest saga began about two weeks ago. Joe woke around midnight trying to get dressed to go to “the game”. I’m not sure what game he thought he might be missing but to calm him down I told him the game didn't start until morning, that we would go to the game then (little white lies…maybe a future blog title). He seemed relieved and drifted back to sleep. So did I.
When morning come, I felt Joe's side of the bed and realized he wasn't there. I scrambled up and into the living room where Joe stood looking cold and confused. A pile of peeled bananas was on the counter and everywhere I looked there was disarray.
Being the caregiving shrew that I am I began to skriek at him. (I know...but I just blew a gasket.) It was as if a vandal had been in the house. I kept saying, "What have you and Al done?" and Joe kept repeating, "I don't know what happened."
Nothing has prepared me to face the things Al is doing to my loved one or what I’d have to do to for my loved one. I’ve read a lot about this disease and followed other caregivers’ journeys with the same issues. But nothing, nothing brings it home like your own reality.