Burt had a miserable day with his aide, I should say substitute aide yesterday. He was agitated. He was nasty. He threatened the police. The trigger is hard to pinpoint.
Substitute might be a part of it. She told him no. He doesn’t like no. Our regular carer texted the night before and said she missed him. He has trouble with dividing his loyalties.
He complained at being mistreated by her most of the afternoon and evening. I said I didn’t want to hear about it. [Perhaps not an advisable or standard procedure, but he’s leery of my apologies.]
He shared his woes with the doorman and his PT. He complained about me. I took her part. The PT left, and Burt said, “Guess what? I love you again.”
This morning, he was chatty and cooperative. He had me call the aide. He left a voice mail for her.
He apologized. “My dementia,” he said, “made me act not so smart.”
I am proud of him. I am sad he’s this aware (and sorry the awareness comes after the fact).
This is one lousy disease, and he and I both know it.
this is our life 