In free fall

This is a horrid disease. I believe all dementias are damnable and heartbreaking.

Lewy, however, seems to offer behavioral twists and emotional wrenches that make it that much more accursed.

So, while all dementias are a burden on sufferer and carer, this is the one we’ve got.

Burt has quirks that predate his illness. He also has charms that still make him lovable. The two often overlap in strange and  unexpected patterns.

I am sure I mentioned his job quest elsewhere. It has morphed into an organized office venture in which his “new girl,” who is also a wife, has a place. I am #1 in  this project.

I worry that in listening to his plans, I acquiesce to lord knows what.

There is a lot of anxiety and fear mixed in with boredom in Burt’s life. [I’ve shared my anxiety over my passive participation in his schemes.]

For instance, he gets antsy when we’re out in the park. Since he demands to go out, this reaction was puzzling me.

It turns out that although we are talking and holding hands, he thinks I left him there. He doesn’t realize it’s me. It’s as if he’s in the midst of an inverse hallucination; he’s not recognizing me, though I am there.

He also worries his driver won’t get him home. And, of course, he doesn’t have control of the wheel chair as he does of his walker.

I often remind myself how hard it is being Burt.