This is just a disease where you can never win. No matter how carefully you manage and manage and cope and cope, eventually it all crashes into a madness and chaos. I guess that’s why they call it dementia.
And this is not about guilt, it is simply accepting that one’s very best is not ever going to be good enough. It is about going in one’s mind to a quiet place where you step back and watch the train crash. (Ew –what a bad metaphor — considering I just booked tickets on the train to go visit our family one last time!)
Forgot to make sure my dear one (spoken sarcastically) swallowed his pills last night, and was kept up all night with his insane fretting and worry — the details don’t matter — it was just cuckoo land. I am exhausted, emotionally and physically. This morning, I see no way out of this and no way to keep up my strength. Sweetie, of course, has gone back to bed because he is so tired. I shouldn’t let him, but, frankly, any time he just is quiet for awhile is a bonus!
And time goes slowly by, and my own vitality with it.
Yesterday was a tough day — we went to see the urologist about the prostate cancer, which is just sitting there quietly slowly growing, and the doctor said, anything we can do now will make his dementia worse, and given his age (almost 80) I think you should just stop testing even. What happens will happen.
It is like going into a black hole, to accept that, and yet, rationally, it is true.
I do not know if “the patient” understood the conversation, but I think, deep down, he did, because he was awfully quiet all evening. Until that is, it was time to sleep!