So Don has been home for 5 days, and – yep – the love fest is over. Despite the heart-wrenching news that a beautiful lady from my caregivers’ group lost her love this week (someone whose disease was similar to my Don’s) I feel trapped in a miasma of…. word salad.
Nothing Don utters is decipherable, yet he wants answers.
He is roaming the house choosing things to pack when we “go home” tomorrow morning.
He runs off on the caregiver when I leave the house for just an hour. I am trapped and desperate, and he is constantly afraid. He wakes me up regularly to ask plaintively, “What are we going to do? What can we do?”
And I don’t know whether to weep or scream, neither of which will help. My head aches. My heart breaks, over and over. I cannot stand this pain. And he is so afraid, whenever I let up on the medication.
All this after he did so well in the Lodge. I envisioned a home coming more peaceful, a calm descent.
I have resorted to extra medication, more than ever, (Note the Lodge used none! Oh, more fuel for guilt) not because I am afraid of his multiple delusions – there is no hint of violence – but because I simply cannot stand it.
I, like my love, have no words for this unending nightmare.
Like all humans, I cry out, “What did we do to deserve this?”