Ever get one of those phone calls that makes you think ‘why did I answer the phone’? M’s memory care daycare center called me with one yesterday and I’m still thinking about it.
They started the conversation by saying everything was fine, there wasn’t an emergency, which always makes me smile. It’s like when the kids were little and you got a call from the school. After you find out they’re safe, your next question is, “well, what have they done?”
Turns out M had visited the nurse’s office, very agitated. When she tried to talk to him about what was bothering him, his answer was “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” I know that “mood” all too well.
Been there, done that.
But evidently, she kept talking to him long enough for him to say that he feels like he wants to hit “that other girl.”
Me. He wants to hit me.
And I’ve known it was coming. A couple of times this week, as I was trying to get him up the stairs, undressed and into the shower every evening (“Come on, let’s go on upstairs.” “Time to take your shirt off.” “Let’s get into the bathroom.” “Jump in the shower.”) he turned to me with a really nasty expression on his face and asked, “where is that other girl?”
In other words, where is that girl that doesn’t tell him what to do?
And I’ve tried walking away and leaving it up to him, letting him take his time and figure out his way through the shower. But, if I do that, nothing happens. No shower takes place. No movement. Just standing around . . . weight shifting from foot to foot. No water is turned on, and eventually he starts yelling, “what do I do?”
The nurse felt like I needed to know – which I appreciate. But what can I do? He hasn’t done anything . . . yet. And I’m in the process of finding a permanent placement for him. But if I thought getting a diagnosis was a long, arduous process, I think this is going to be even worse.
But in the meantime . . .
For some reason, I recently remembered a terrible storm that came through the area about five years ago. It was a summer thunderstorm, but we were out in a store and when I looked out the window, the world looked completely different.
The trees in the parking lot were almost bent double in the wind. It was afternoon, but as dark as midnight, because of the clouds that had closed in – and they seemed right on top of us. All sorts of alarms started going off, letting us know a tornado had been spotted in the area and everyone in the store was ushered to a “safe” area to wait.
M was having no part of it.
He mocked the idea that I was scared, completely ignored what the store employees and management were trying to do – corralling everyone to safety – and was bound and determined to ignore the storm and drive home, as planned.
I finally convinced him to ride out the storm in the “safe” area of the building and wait inside until it had passed, but we had words about this for a long time. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t take my fears – and the weather – seriously and he couldn’t understand why I had gotten so upset about it.
Now, as I think back about it, I really believe this is another example of his dementia setting in.
But, of course, I didn’t see it at the time. And what could I have done if I did?
I hear you. My father continued through all of these steps while I cared for him. I’m grateful for you that you have the day care and that kind nurse. Right now my husband is between beginning to get irritated and balking instead of cooperating, and where your husband is now. My heart goes out to you.
Regarding the tornado. Had a very similar experience 2 years ago. One sighted about a mile away, headed our way, I was screaming at him to move to the little inside bathroom. He stood stock still in the living room saying, “I am moving. I am moving!” Not the earliest sign, but an early one.
There’s nothing you could have done then, and your only obligation now is to protect yourself and find him a safe place ASAP. Remember someone said you could have him taken in for a 24 hour “watch” and some anxiety control at the hospital. I urge you to take advantage of that option should he become physically aggressive, even just verbally aggressive.
You can’t imagine how much I appreciate reading this. We’ve gone through so many of the same things as you and M. Arguments, differences of opinion, where I just couldn’t understand why he’d been so obstinate and counterproductive. I too have realized this over the past two years post diagnosis my husband (J) has dementia (early onset Alzheimer’s, diagnosed at 54 which probably started taking root around age 49.). You think you are losing it yourself or perhaps being too hard on them but know later you weren’t and it’s so frustrating to be right and feel so alone. You aren’t, it’s just hard walking alone in your own mind. Just know we’re walking silently beside you.