Over and over and over. “I want to go home. C’mon babe, let’s go.”
This had been going on for 3 hours – we had gone for a drive, perhaps foolishly, twice, because I hoped the foul weather and the motion would break the pattern.
I should have known better. “I want to go home,” He wailed over and over. He would look around our house and recognise it as ours for a moment and then say well, that’s fine, but I want to go home.
C’mon babe, let’s go. Tugging at me, hugging me and caressing me, ready to crush me and my chair, sometimes demanding to know what was wrong with me – was i mad? Worthy of temporary pity? Did I really want to push him away from me? –
C’mon babe, let’s go. What do we need to take? C’mon babe.
I wept and wept and finally smarten ed up and gave him enough medication.
After it took effect, and between dogs and strange men running through the room, he kissed my hand, and said, Thank you, babe.
CaringCV 
I know that you write so that people will understand what Alzheimers’ is really like. because of my old profession I do know that ! In some strange way I am with you , I just wish that it would be of comfort!
I think the word is Agape
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My heart and prayers are with you, Delores. I hope you can find a safe place for Don soon. I am overwhelmed by your strength, compassion and grace.
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Yeah, what Lynne said. My heart, and my tears, swell when I read your blog.
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I’m wondering, different environment, different medicine needs? because he needs more medicine at your home does not reflect on your love or understanding of him! It is another grief but not a failure, dear one! hugs
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