Short Fuse

I haven't written in quite awhile and I guess that is because for us, right now, things are pretty smooth.  The staff that I have with Al (some private, some through agency) are all wonderful caring people and I am very grateful for them.  Particularly The Saint - my gosh this woman is amazing.  From the minute she comes through the door she chats away with Al, gets him organized for the day, visiting away as though he can carry on a real conversation.  I am grateful for her.  On the weekends, when he realized (or I have told him) it is just him and me he's say "oh, no one to talk to..."  Well thanks!  But really it is me who is guilty.  I just don't banter with him anymore.  A few statements usually to do with the weather, eating, what we are doing, but not really visiting.  And in all honesty, I just can't be bothered.  I have lots to do between work, taking care of everything to do with the house, the few things I try to hang onto for my own self, there just isn't enough time in the day.  So sitting at the table looking at the Christmas catelogue and talking about furniture, shoes etc - nope, I just don't.  So I am grateful for The Saint and hope she will stick around for quite awhile.  Other than that we are ok, settled into a routine.  He can still come shopping, we can still go out to the pub with friends, he sleeps pretty well.  Really we are ok. 

But my fuse is short.  I have learned to keep a calm voice with Al, regardless of the fact that he will walk into the house and not think about helping to take in groceries, never takes off his shoes so I wonder why I should ever bother washing the floor, keeps "putting things away" to be discovered after an hour of searching, or a week. Mostly I stay calm.  It is easier.  But little things in my life really tick me off.  Someone late?  Didn't do something they said they would do?  Dishes left in the sink?  Or worse, food scraps.  Dishwasher ran only 3/4 full - apparently that was favor. And for the staff that has worked in this house for over a year and still puts bowls away in the wrong cupboard.  Really?  How is that helpful?  My voice is tight, barely controlled and the young gal (actually very sweet) who used a metal spoon on the teflon pot was rewarded for making oatmeal for breakfast with quite a nasty remark.  The truth is,  I am still a very angry person.  Angry at Al for getting this disease, for ruining our lives.  We should be travelling, I should be weaving as much as I want.  It shouldn't take me a month to read a book.  Oh yes, people will say it isn't his FAULT, it's the disease.  Yes but so what?  Emotionally, I don't just resent the disease, I resent Al. I resent cleaning his shower every day, sweeping up after him every day, spending hours organizing staff, finding activities that will help him to work off some of his w/e energy so that I may take an hour to do my own chores. having to watch him every single minute at every task we do because the minute I don't he will do something stupid.  Yes!  Stupid!  Today I thought he was right behind me at the recycling bins heading back to the car.  But no, he had to stop to stuff our green box into the bin.  So when I get back to the car, I have to go and look for it.  And it is like that every day.  It isn't that I have to do things.  Its that I have to do hem twice.  Because ever helpful Al has moved it, thrown it away, walked over it.  And its not going to get any better because This is Alzheimers.  And I am Alz wife.  So suck it up princess!

March 30/14 

 

 

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