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Posts Tagged ‘phychiatrist’

I noticed I had a comment on my blog, which I thought unusual as my posts are very new in this field of written communication.  It was from Doctor David.  There is more to the title of his blog: David is a phychiatrist by profession, he knits and crochets, and is seemingly much too young to be stricken by anything related to AD.   I delved  further into his link as well as some of the others to investigate Lewy Body Dementia.  I have never heard of LBD and I visited several sites including one about a woman taking care of her father.  Reading, it appeared to me that she might be from Australia just noting references to “mum” and other words that appeared to be foreign to USA English preferences.  How different we probably are, but battling the same awful diseases we can’t help but share in this miserable  journey.  Thanks for being there people.  I’ll tune in again.  Right now I’m so busy.  My friend, Madalyn, whose husband died last year from unrelated causes, but was into full Alzheimer’s gave me her “reference” book:  The 36 Hour Day.  And days often seem to be that long, but even with 36 hours I still can’t get everything done.  Often it feels as if I take three steps forward and by the end of the day have dropped back three miles.

My husband Ken and I have been in this battle for the past five years, with each year becoming worse.  However, after reading a bit here and there I find that I am basically very fortunate.  I do count my blessings and give thanks daily for the health and strength we have.  I am so glad that he can still perform all of his daily tasks regarding his personal needs.  The accidents have been very few.  I’ve also noticed that every movable item is of extreme value  to him, and often he’ll take things from any room, but especially from the bathroom relocating a razor or  toothbrush elsewhere only to be angry the next day when he finds it missing.  I realize that’s the least of our problems, and nothing compared to what other people are experiencing.

It is frustrating, though, when he doesn’t remember me and wants me to get out of  “his” house, often getting very angry and at times threatening.  When he is insistant upon my leaving I have locked myself in the “office,” which makes him even more angry.  He pounds on the door and yells at me, but after a time returns to the family room where the TV has been entertaining an empty room.  After a while he has forgotten the incident.  At times he remembers me and other times he doesn’t, and not remembering makes up the majority.   I have grown so used to the see-saw relationship, it has become the norm.

We still have our daughter’s dogs.  Ken enjoys them and misses having a devoted pet.  He doesn’t remember that our two dogs have been gone for a few years and often goes to the back door and whistles for them to come in.  I am saddened by that action and I’m also sure he would enjoy the loving company of a another dog, but I have as much as I can handle caring for him.

Individually, our hairy coated guests are very nice, but with three they seem to conspire.  Each morning I find that one of them has been naughty.  Sitting on the floor, all three  in a row, they look up at me with such innocent faces as I accusingly look at the puddle in the middle of the floor, and then at them.  Following my gaze our eyes meet and all six eyes seem to say, “It wasn’t me.” 

 Tonight one of three got behind the Christmas tree and tipped it over.  Oh, well.  Time to take it down anyway.  There were several ornaments on the floor with the three sitting silent — watching — their sweet faces taking on that look of sincere innocense once again.  “I won’t even asked,” I said to the trio.   I quickly picked up the tree, righting it as best I could, and then gathered the tempting objects scattered across the floor as I was certain they would be the chew toy choice for the night.   My resolve:  no more dogs.

For the past few days, our son Keith and his wife have taking the dogs down to the bay for some good running exercise.   How I do appreciate the peace and quiet, as well as their small, thoughtul favors.  Now I’m looking forward to one happy day next week when canine triplets go home.

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