My Dementia Diary 19 – Babbling

At times, I’ve heard my young nieces, intent on playing with their dolls, babbling as they travel in imaginary worlds. This is quite normal for girls of their age. Not so for my wife, well into her sixties, who now talks incessantly to no one. She babbles.

If I work to understand what she’s saying, there are fragments of reality woven into larger stories. Mostly, though, her words are simply chatter, nothing that makes any kind of sense.

The good news is that her babbling is happy, sometimes she’s even laughing and whistling as she patters about. I’m quite glad about this because it’s obviously much easier to live with a joyful person than one who is angry and upset.

still, I do think about what is happening to her mind, the continuing deterioration of memory, the further separation from reality. then, I stop. Overthinking our situation does me no good. I’ve found it best to simply appreciate the blessings we still enjoy.

I count joyful babbling as one of those blessings.

tio stib

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My Dementia Diary 18 – The last Posole’ Party

this past weekend, my wife and I had a posole’ party for friends and neighbors. Posole’ is a traditional Mexican soup served for special occasions and we’ve hosted such gatherings many times. When we first started doing this, my wife would prepare the posole’ from a recipe she’d learned from her mom. As her mind has deteriorated, I’ve picked up more and more of the process until, now, I’m the cook, and my wife the assistant.

Part of the challenge is procuring groceries, a process requiring us to walk downhill to the store and lug the needed items back up the hill. There is always a second trip because I always forget something. I put these efforts down to healthy exercise. The larger difficulty is emotional and mental, staying patient and caring as my wife becomes more and more anxious about the coming event, asking the same questions again and again. Who’s coming? When are they coming? Why are they coming? Who’s coming?…

As much as she enjoys the thought of company, she is also fearful that someone is going to take her things, so she begins to hide and cover them up. Still, we got through this and by mid afternoon the posole’ is simmering on the stove, our home filled with the sumptuous aroma of good things cooking. My wife is excited but needs hugs and assurance that all is well. 

Guests eventually arrive amidst smiles and laughter and all gather around to share a delicious meal and the opportunity to connect with each other again. My wife is happy, basking in all the love of the moment. Yet, I notice that she is not able to enter into conversation, most topics are too confusing for her. She retreats to the kitchen to do dishes, babbling joyfully to herself.

The evening winds down, friends depart, my wife and I hug, feeling good for the party’s success, but too tired to clean up after it. 

As I sat sipping tea the following morning while my wife engaged in her favorite pastime, adult coloring books, I reflected. yes, the previous night’s event had gone wonderfully well and it had been a great gathering. My wife had enjoyed it. Yet, I was beat. Certainly, the effort had been worth it, but would I ever want to do it again? perhaps it’s time to quit on a high note.

Time will tell.

tio stib

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My Dementia Diary 17 – Hiding the Cookies

My wife’s mind forgets many things but not cookies. when we enter the grocery store, “cookies?” is the first word off her lips, and she knows exactly where to find them in the bakery. Admittedly, I too have a fondness for such sweets, especially the chocolate chip ones, which is why cookies often find their way into our grocery bag.

The challenge comes when we return home, when we must resist the urge to eat all the sweets at once. I’ve tried rationing them, handing out a small amount each day, but, I soon discovered that the cookies were disappearing faster than my rationing had anticipated. Obviously, they were being eaten at other times. Obviously, my wife’s cookie needs were overriding my desire to limit caloric intake.

I decided to hide the cookie tin. First, I placed it in the cupboard, behind the cereal. The cookies kept disappearing. then, I put the tin on top of the refrigerator, assuming my wife would not see them. A few minutes later, she came up and offered me several. It’s hard to be secretive in a single room apartment.

My latest hiding place is in the oven, an appliance we never use. So far, the cookie stash has remained a secret, and the tin may even last the week. Apparently, the phrase “out of sight, out of mind,” bears some truth.

However, I no longer can blame my wife for the continuing cookie disappearance.

tio stib

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My Dementia Diary 16 – Good News, Bad News, Where is My Solitude

For years, I dreamed of a partner with whom I could share all of life, the joys and the hardships, someone who would be willing and able to take off on a moment’s notice to places unknown simply because it seemed to be a great idea at the time.

Finally, I was blessed with just this partner, and, for one year, we had the magic life together that I’d always dreamed of.

That was a year of unsurpassed bliss and those memories still bring me smiles. However, as so often happens, our road together took an unexpected turn. I lost my sight and she began losing her mind.

And, so, we’ve adapted.

We no longer drive miles from home, but limit our roaming to walking local walking wanderings. It has gotten to the point that I no longer feel comfortable leaving her alone, and, as I’m her only caregiver, this means we’re together all the time, always. Fortunately, my wife has a naturally cheerful disposition and she’s easily guided into whatever activity we need to be doing, from daily walks to grocery shopping. The biggest challenge is my personality, the fact that, for most of my life, I’ve enjoyed times of solitude.

While I’ve treasured sharing adventures with friends, from sailing trips to hikes to new restaurants, when no one was available, I went off on my own. And I loved it!! As has been often shared by others, solitude is not loneliness, it is the beauty and peace of being alone. I have fond recollections of such solitude times, from solo hikes and sailing trips to simply sitting on a beach at sunset. Quiet moments when I could hear stars talking to each other.

Given my wife’s new need for constant companionship, I am finding new ways to give myself the gift of solitude. As she has the envious ability to fall asleep in seconds, I often listen to those imagined stars deep into the night waiting for drowsiness to creep over my mind. Or, I’ll sit outside in the morning sunshine, letting the sweet scent of nearby Jasmine float through me, recalling other dreams of times gone by.

Solitude is soul food, and, as always, it’s up to me to feed myself.

tio stib

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