It’s been quite awhile since i did an update. The weeks have rolled by and i have been waiting for something dramatic to report, but, as the saying is, no news is good news.
In our case, of course, I can only peer over the Covid walls and guess how he really is doing day-to-day, but the reports are good.
There has been trouble, seemingly escalating, over the long wheelchair ride to the visiting area. I had been granted 3 visits a week for a half hour, but this involved staff trundling him in a wheelchair along long corridors to a separate visiting room.
Sometimes it worked fine, but more often, he was squawking, “What are you doing?” and trying to get up and walk, which is forbidden.
I tried inside and outside. Chocolate helped. Sometimes music helped a bit (he has his ipod in the new place) but overall, i couldn’t get him to sit back down if i got him up to walk, and generally the situation was miserable for all, including me and the careing aides.
We reached a point last week where I cried myself to sleep thinking i would have to give up the precious visits because he was so stressed.
Then three visits in a row were pretty good although of course he had no sense of what was happening – he was just in a good mood those days i guess.
I got encouraged — and then a couple of days ago it got worse. He was right out of it, shaking and cold and saying “I’m a-scairt.”
The social worker phoned later and i gather on the way back to his unit it was a full-blown civil disobedience. He digs his heels in on the wheelchair and he is very strong and pretty well immovable. I probably am making it worse by refusing to let him be strapped in. His free will is almost all he has left, except a hearty appetite.
Anyway the social worker and i problem solved – Trial 1) warm blanket, music, etc.
Today when i arrived i was surprised to be told, we are doing things differently today. Apparently despite the methods of Trial 1, mr. don had raised extreme resistance. The staff decided to let him walk to a nearby room where i was to join him.
When i got there, apprehensive (a skairt and pissed off love is no fun to behold), he was stretched out on a recliner couch, watching the window with the rain and trees and wind, quite calm. Hard to believe this was the same guy.
It was a lovely quiet room and we talked. Early on, as i sat beside him on the most comfy couch we have shared in years, he said clearly, I know who you are.
He enthusiastically scoffed down some apple pudding and suggested (somewhat smugly i thought) that we could stay there. Or larer, alternatively that i should come here all the time. (Now, these interpretations are my impressions of what i got out of a constant stream of words, so i don’t really know … but i think that was what i heard. Could he be that cognitive?)
He sang many many songs and smiled and laughed. Even when i made a slight miscue, he would pause, while i held my breath, and then smile.
We sat together and watched the storm and the ocean outside, as we did so many times during our life together. i found a deep soul comfort, and i do believe he did too.
He wasn’t too pleased when assisted out to dinner but the care aide was skilled.
I have no idea what happens next, but he has made it pretty clear these wheelchair voyages are out for him.
I will treasure that peace of watching the storm, my love beside me, singing, forever. A great gift for my heart’s content.
2 responses to “A gift of heart’s content”
My heart warms for you both!
Glad to know the wheelchair can be dispensed with when Don decides so. Sad how something that’s supposed to be an aid to mobility becomes a means of repression.