Random Thoughts of A New Caregiver

It’s been 56 days, 8 weeks or 2 months; which ever sounds longest.

In fact I can’t believe it has only been this long it seems like so very much longer. 
“Dad” came home to live with us…oh so long ago.

He has Alzheimer’s, but not according to him, he just can’t live by himself anymore. 

We had an empty-nest…an empty-nest for over ten years…a happy empty-nest.

 There is another person in our home now…not a child and not an adult.

This is new territory…I know how to handle kids and I know how to work with adults…this is neither.

The responsibility is oppressive….I raised my own children…this person belongs to someone else…he has other children who love him and care about him…but I’m responsible for him.

Is he sick?  Is he in pain?  Is he bored, angry or depressed?  How can I fix it? 

My mind is consumed; as if the disease is contagious and wrapping it’s tentacles around my thoughts and permanently attaching him to me.

Every decision is weighed against “the situation”; breakfast before shaving, Andy Griffith or Judge Judy, can I shower before he wakes up, if I tell him will he worry?

“Help him live with dignity”….so can I send him to his room, tell him to take a shower or take away the remote?  Or am I totally at his mercy, catering to only what makes sense to him, which by the way means no movies with aliens or special effects, never washing your clothes or your hair and shaving every time you’re in the bathroom.

If I leave him alone is he lonely?  When I’m with him I am so lonely…like something is sucking the life out of me.

My havens are gone…those special places, special rituals…just for me.  There’s only one place left where I can hide…I’ll protect it with extreme measures.

My marriage has changed.

We are forgetting to laugh…oh occasionally we laugh…but not like before.  Nothing is silly, frivolous, or carefree anymore.

We are learning to talk again…even if Dad doesn’t always understand.

We had stopped looking each other in the eyes…we were too scared at what we would see.  Its coming back…slowly we are finding each other again.

It has taken me 56 days, 8 weeks or 2 months to pick up the “pen” again. 

Creativity, spontaneity, and courage have shriveled up like a marigold without water.

Maybe it’s not too late…just add water…living water…maybe it will come back and bloom again.

Maybe it’s not too late.