Monthly Archives: April 2018

Separation

Well, I did it. Two years, three months and 13 days after my love went into residential care, mostly because I couldn’t handle his needs anymore,  I filled out the government form.

It allows the feds to assess our incomes separately for the guaranteed income. I have been making enough more money lately that it could affect his GIS which would affect the monthly care bill.

Anyway after resisting for a long time I filled out the form: Statement of Involuntary Separation. It is different from a marriage separation and is a mechanism the govt has invented to recognize the growing reality for elders. In some provinces I suspect this could even save the remaining spouse from having to sell the house. Great blessing that in BC that at least is never what the system requires to pay those hefty care bills.

But facing the reality is easier for the govt than me. I think this was triggered by a talk with the doctor. He had come to assess Don’s pain which has been increasing over the last month. Probably sciatica but without tests who knows. A frank talk revealed that I did know –  no matter the cause – curative treatment was not an option. My poor wounded man could not tolerate it mentally. His remaining grasp on “reality” is fragile and only the consistency at the care home keeps him relatively even.

For example this morning when he got up he wouldn’t let the staff take care of him – wash and dress – So they just left him alone to re-arrange his room until his mood changed. Otherwise there would be problems.

And treatment would do no good, only push him deeper down the rabbit hole. (Hard to imagine but every step along this disease I have underestimated the mental destruction that was coming.) So pain control is the only option.

I never imagined that our lives would end like this. I always figured one of us would just get totally and finally pissed off and leave! Heaven knows we battled enough.

What I know is that the form sits on the table, waiting to be mailed on Monday.

 

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The mills of the gods

The mills of the gods grind woe, And they grind exceedingly slow (with apologies to Longfellow).

Today he was not well. In some pain and just…not there. So bad that I returned to check again later,  and he was indeed a little better.

But tonight all I can hear in my brain is his voice, “I trust you. I trust you to make the right decisions for us.”

He said this over and over in moments of clarity as the dementia gnawed his fine mind.

And I did the best I could, but – gods – the woe is unending and a slow dance. Into death. But  i will not leave him alone. My life lesson.

The guy I thought would be a 7 year fling! Going into 38 years … and counting. Grinding out the good times and the bad, but slow.

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