At his sickest, I'd get an occasional glimpse of the old H...and that would make me want more. Reminds me of taking a drag on a cigarette after having quit smoking; I always want more.
And now, I get to see more of the old H...bit by bit he's coming back. So, extending my metaphor, I get to smoke the whole cigarette. Of course, I can't just smoke one; I want more and more.
Now, this has happened over and over again, where H is at the brink (and a "zombie") and then he gets pulled back and returns to more of his former self. The miracle of modern medicine.
Problem is that he's weller just long enough for those fond feelings and that love that I have for him to well back up...maybe even some hope and optimism that things can be different, that my ole H will return to me for good. And as he gets weller, then I also dread the inevitable decline again. Then he moves back towards the brink, there is no H there anymore, and I need to steel myself up for a possible death, hospice, etc.
What is hardest is that I fall again for him as he gets well, then I lose him over and over again as he teeters on the brink.
Dementia is called the long goodbye and it is.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
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1 comment:
I don't know whether to be pleased for you that you have the opportunity to express your feelings again to a restored H, or find it horrific that you keep losing him again over and over. What you're dealing with seems very cruel indeed.
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