I started writing this blog as a kind of desperate move, realising that I probably never would get around to writing the book I had been carefully keeping notes toward. Now it has turned into a therapeutic exercise for me, and I feel comforted in knowing that many people are reading this and, in that way, keeping me company as this story unfolds, to its inevitable bleak end.
Also, before I figured out how to get Seniors Health (VIHA) more heavily engaged in our problem, and before I found the great caregiver help I have now, thanks to the CSIL program, I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. I thought the partners of those with dementia were expected to just bury themselves alive with their dying spouses, a kind of living “sati.”
But enough of this — I am doing what writers tend to do best, “not writing” about last night’s episode.
After a rather challenging day, including several hours spent at Emerg (good news – no problem), Don went to sleep at about 10.
I stayed up for awhile and was just at the sink, tidying up the kitchen, when I heard a loud “crack.” I turned around to see my love, standing with his walking stick upraised ready to swing again. I cried, “Stop, Don. Stop. It’s Delores, I am Delores,” but for many seconds there was no recognition in his eyes. Then, slowly, there was puzzlement, and then, he lowered the stick.
I took a deep breath and we went to bed.
Accidents happen to people all the time, but this morning, I realize that I could easily not be here today, comfortably blogging about this close call.
CaringCV 
whoa, sister ….time for some heavy drugs to keep that anger leashed…for your own good…till it is time to have Don placed elsewhere…that is a hard one deary ..big hug
LikeLiked by 1 person
reminds me of what my Mom was going through with my Dad when he was still at home. She would get respite care in to give her a break or one of us girls would go and spend time with him while she did shopping. Glad you got to write about this.
LikeLike
And that is exactly what I have been fearing. Glad you are ok. Much love, and sorrow,
Clara
LikeLiked by 1 person
Delores…my heart feels very heavy with this news. Having not seen my brother for an extended period, it is so very difficult to imagine Donald, the meek, mild spirit that we know and love. However, I certainly know that these things do happen with this ugly ugly disease. I shed tears, not only for my brother, but for you as well. Your patience is remarkable. I also know that most days your patience is tried to the end. You are a blessing.
Sending love
Shari and Branden.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope you advise your caseworker of this tomorrow D, I am sure they will move Don up the list for care, it is time for him to live in care,I am sure.
Jeanie
LikeLike
There are drugs – the right drugs – that won’t turn Don into a drooling zombie. I could tell you a story, but you don’t need the nightmare tale of others. More importantly, you don’t need a new nightmare story of your own. Take care of yourself. It is never more true than now.
Hugs, Ronna-Rae
LikeLiked by 1 person
All these incredible posts are already a book Delores. Perhaps that is an desperate attempt to find a positive note in an otherwise monstrously challenging time for you. I thank you for sharing. Abrazos – Alan
LikeLiked by 1 person
With all of the amazing caring you do for Don, it is time to really look after your safety Delores. I agree with others that it is so important to report these incidents to those who can make important decisions about Don’s care. Thank you for sharing. Hugs to you.
LikeLike
Please let your caregivers know about this . It is time .
LikeLike
YIKES! This is scary! I don’t know what else to say, augh…. Thank goodness you stayed clear and calm. see U sunday Norleen
LikeLike