Looking at the many photos of Burt I have on my phone, I was touched by his grins, his looking mischievous. I realized how important it was to me that he enjoyed his life. And that, in retrospect. I have evidence of his pleasure. There are all those pictures I took and the memory of his appreciation when I took them. You really do love me, he’d say, as I focused another shot of him.
As Burt succumbed to the Lewy Body disease I focused more on his happiness than I had when he was healthy. Yes, of course, I cared that he was happy in our life before the Lewy journey, but now it was linked to his care.
Happiness is a way to measure quality of life, or became my way of measuring his quality of life. As his illness progressed, I became preoccupied with seeing Burt happy.
I think that it cannot easy to be happy when you are suffering a dementia.
In the last 6 months, his doctor and I thought he might benefit from an anti-depressant. It was to enhance his mood, maybe even it out. He didn’t seem depressed, but there were anxieties.
There is all that confusion and, in Burt’s case, wondering where his wife was. Still, he was often joyful. He cracked jokes. He bathed in the attention all of us who looked after him gave. He liked to laugh. He loved to talk.
I wanted to share experiences with him. We took outings to the park. For me, it was a way to recreate the quiet times we’d spent by the river. Today, I am left wondering if he liked those outings as much as I did.
It mattered to me. I wanted us to share these new memories. Most of the time, judging by the photographic evidence, he had a good time.
this is our life 