Tag Archives: Dementia

To be clear

Things are going better. The paperwork hangs on – i did his last taxes but just can’t seem to remember to mail the papers.

There wasn’t much so i hope that is all proceeding well. There should be a social service or help for those who.have lost their life partners – everything is hard but some agency could make it easier by helping.

But for me i still get emotional whiplash. Thought i was over the worst and doing surprisingly well, although doing well seems mostly to be presenting a brave happy face to the world.

But tabling for the watershed sentinel at a community event on Sunday … well, i enjoyed it, loved the company, and thought finally! i was ok. I knew i have gotten emotional whiplash each time before, but i thought this time, months later, i had finally swum out of that drowning pool.

And then the backlash. Tonight i remembered how he would always carry the boxes for me, i never had to worry about that hassle.

Then i touched his urn, and it was cold, he would have been complaining.

And again the future looks bleak and empty and i am so alone with only my memories and heartbreak for company.

Better, but not ok, not yet. Hiding it better, but still broken.


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The fog lifts a little

Today for the first time since my love passed, i actually truly enjoyed myself for 2 hours, with no tears, no regrets, and joy in my heart.

Yesterday i went to the beach and that too was good, but every little social outing is completely exhausting. I usually crawl into bed for an hour even after a quick trip to the store. It overwhelms. All those living bodies, each with their own complex stories, just too much.

But today was different.

My friend Linda and I met for brunch at the Wave, a hotel in the Valley which had a bluegrass jam featured.

And oh i was transported – live music! the rhythm, that lovely bluegrass twang, the banjo, guitar, bass, and the fiddle. It was magic and joyful.

My friend of over a decade looked at me and said, “I didn’t know you liked bluegrass that much” and i had to laugh as i said, I didn’t either!

I remembered how my love would be up dancing, as i so wanted to (covid rules say no). And was glad there was no need to try to explain that rule to him. It would have been a nightmare, ending in anger and tears. That is over.

It is a small start – the beginning of imagining a new life, one to be enjoyed, as in his mid stage he so wanted for me. Today for a few hours the pain lifted and there was life and joy on the other side, instead of just endurance. No need to worry about him anymore.

Right now, in this moment, before the fog lowers again, i am interested to see what happens next.


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A Real Man

Joanna Lumley is taking the trans siberian railway on knowledge tv tonight and stops at lake baikal. She visits a family at a water-access fishing village and, as she tumbles tipsy (all those toasts in vodka!) into bed, nostalgically ¬†describes the family head – fisherman, carpenter, entrepreneur – as “a real man.”

I am suddenly tumbled into memory and grief. Memory of my Uncle Dan, grade 3 education and one of the kindest, smartest, most well-read people i have ever met, saying to me, as he loaded the car with bread and cabbages after my new love and i had visited my family in saskatchewan, “You, you keep this one, he’s a man.”

This is, i guess, ¬†some secret slavic code i have understood from birth for … well, a real man, one who withstands the worst and cares for his woman.

His recommendation of my new love, older than me, an ignorant/innocent very smart jack-of-all-trades from the woods of Ontario, was all the more potent because of something neither my man nor my Uncle Dan knew.

When i was a bud of a girl, my mom made me take my visiting Uncle Dan and Aunt Annie on a tour of Ottawa. We hit all the high spots: the Parliament, the pulp mill, the mint. By the end Annie was exhausted, and Dan shouldered her heavy purse with no ado. As we stood watching the coins pour out of the mint machine, and the crowd oohed and aahed while annie’s feet hurt, my Uncle Dan said softly, hefting annie’s purse,”You can’t take it with you.”

And i thought to myself, at only 13, “So This is a Man.” And never forgot.

Now my man is a shell, a ghost who resembles his former self in looks, but who no longer understands spoken english, who starts in terror at mundane events, who barely recognises me, and has no memory of our life together, who wanders around and around the dementia ward, looking for who knows what.

And i wonder. This is the best we can do for victims of this awful disease. Look after them, fed and clothe them, keep them clean. Entertain them, try for those precious moment of joy.

It is, to be blunt, a humane looney bin. Is this all we will be able to do, as more and more, as millions, are stricken with this disease: Build more and more locked wards for those sentenced to lose their minds?

The Senate has released a major report on dementia in Canada in Canada, calling for better home care, long term care infrastructure, and research. They are right. Tell your MP we need this.

Quick Facts

  • The number of Canadians with dementia will double over the next 15 years to 1.4 million in 2031, up from 750,000 in 2011.
  • The direct cost of caring for dementia patients will rise dramatically to $16.6 billion a year in 2031, compared to $8.3 billion in 2011.
  • The total annual direct and indirect costs associated with dementia are projected to rise to $293 billion by 2040, compared to $33 billion in 2015.


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