Here’s where the focus shifts

Burt is having more interactions with hallucinatory visitors these days. He experiences delusions and a good deal of confusion.

This lessens his involvement and connection with those of us with him; the ones actually in the room.

For instance, when I told him I was his wife and I was home with him, he said, “Get her for me.” He meant on the phone, I believe.

He will call for his aide to help him when I am there, and for me, all the time I am out.

His conversation occurs in his sleep, and when he’s awake with equal intensity. It can be very elaborate.

Much of it is forcefully expressed but unintelligible.

I am writing my grief. I keep my sense of humor and a clear eye on reality as I do so. There is a part of me that expects Burt to snap out of it.

Aside: don’t picture Cher slapping Nicolas Cage.  Although, as soon as that phrase came to me, I saw  that scene in Moonstruck.

Burt is still in his decline. He’s not at the twist or turn when he was so unresponsive that he scared his aide.

He seems to want to stay in bed. He is fearful when we get him up; afraid of falling, a bit unsteady, unwilling to straighten his knees to stand.

Feeding him as I do now spoonful by spoonful feels like a tender act.  I am physically present.

It’s my connection with him. It’s our interaction.