Monday, June 4, 2012

Letter to my David

Dearest David
This time twelve years ago I was in London with your engagement ring on my finger and we both were wondering what on earth we were doing after only such a short time of knowing one another.

Tonight I sit here, glued to the sofa, too nervous to move, because moving means I see something else that reminds me that you are in hospital and not somewhere in the house.

After these eight years of handling Alzheimer's, I know I was right in saying that I will long for the time when you ask for my attention and all I want is to watch TV.

I know I will see you tomorrow and our passports will be in the car, just in case I follow that desire to smuggle you out in a laundry cart. I've said it before - we could live as two loonies on a beach.
I'm sorry Doctors and best hospitals in the world, I'm struggling to agree that keeping Alzheimer's patients in a scary hospital is a good idea. Yes I know its temporary. This is the part in the movie where I go to medical school and find a correct/better treatment for you and actually cure you! Hilary Swank will play me and get nominated.

This just isn't right and I feel so helpless and that I have let you down.

The doctor said, once you are in a nursing home that I can be the wife again. You do not stop being a wife just because you are a care giver. FAR FROM IT!

The strength that I have seen from my Mum, my wonderful friend Sandy and now my Aunt Violet as they have dealt with their husbands dying is extraordinary. For Mum it is nearly twenty years since Dad died, Sandy nearly one year and my dear Aunt just a week.
With Alzheimer's, mine is a different form of grieve. Never for once though do any of us stop being wives.
Sadly I know I will long for these days when at least I can hold your hand.

How are we meant to deal with this David? You can't communicate to me what you need. I can't have you hold me, like you did. I am desperately trying to remember a time when we were not dealing with illness (or other issues) and all we had was a bright hope that all could be well for us, when individually we had handled so much before meeting on a hill in April 2000.

We knew it was a gamble. Never did we imagine this. Oh never did we imagine this.

Miss you.



2 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Jayne, my heart goes out to you today. The sadness and loss is palpable. You have written a beautiful tribute to a love that goes on despite the pain, sadness and loss. You will be in my prayers. Sue

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