From pretty much day one of Burt’s symptoms, I looked to getting help. Initially, it was because I needed my time.
I wanted to get 3 or 4 hours several times a week to get out. It seemed an existential need for me.
In the parlance of our dementia communities, it’s deemed “self-care.”
Some of us frequently express our annoyance at the exhortation to “take care of” ourselves. We also recognize the necessity.
I realized I had to go on with some small portion of my regular life in order to get on with our new life.
My time was for chores (like trips to the pharmacy) and for enjoyments (like time with my friends for lunch or coffee or walking around solo taking pictures).
It was to keep up the habit of exercise or to keep appointments (for my health or our financial oversight).
Over the last several months, I saw gaps in my plan.
I needed not just that essential me time, but also more assistance with Burt.
Our battles over food, for instance, could use another hand.
His caregiver would be able to help defray the fraught in this aspect of our relationship.
Another hand to feed him seemed like a simple idea. It took me a while to mull over, but I decided to implement time for both of us to get Burt eating.
An added hour at home with the caregiver here so we work as a team has been very helpful.
Burt’s recent decline both physically and in terms of erratic behaviors has made taking him outside on weekends an iffy proposition.
One Saturday, despite his eagerness to go out, Burt became agitated once we were on our way. He started banging his walker into a low wall near the door of our building. Until he toppled over.
The fall was not devastating. He was unhurt. Neighbors by the numbers came to our aid. They pulled him onto the seat of his walker; one escorted us all the way into our apartment.
This is the moment for gratitude, so I pause.
The devastating effect was on my confidence in dealing with Burt on my own.
Time for weekend help. Burt’s regular aide took a week off, and the sub is now our weekend guy.
Day one was yesterday. The goal was to deal with a steady pattern of meals for Burt and to get some outdoor activity in our schedule.
I am exhausted from all the doing, but this is the right thing for us. We are looking forward to our Sunday. Burt is talking about breakfast and lunch. I am saying we’ll go out to sit to watch the river.
On our outing today, Burt kept threatening to fall and was pretty convincing. The last leg of our trip was actually very nerve-wracking, and we pulled him seated on the walker to the door. His new aide helped keep him from falling when he finally got up by the door. Even Burt acknowledged that he’d helped. We put Burt in the bedroom so he could rest.
Burt suggested I “get rid of the guy,” but when he was in the other room, he asked for him.
All in all, a great first start.
this is our life 