Update On Bill's Condition

 

Wedding Day picture July 3, 2013 Georgetown Circle, Georgetown, Delaware

Bill is slipping.

This past week his cognitive dissonance has increased. Whereas he was confused around four o'clock in the afternoon after I got up from my nap, now his dementia is showing itself at two o'clock or thereabouts. He's losing track of time. He's getting his days and night's mixed up. 

I just left him in his bedroom now. Right now the time is 10:04 AM and he would be sitting in his recliner in our sunroom. Instead when I went to get him up this morning for his breakfast, he wanted to sleep "another hour or so." That's where he is now, sleeping in his bedroom. 

Last night he didn't want his dinner which is a high protein egg nog smoothie. No breakfast this morning. He says he's "not hungry." After I complete this blog I'll go down to his bedroom and get him up for lunch. I hope he's able to eat something.

He's also having problems swallowing, more so this past week. There is no cure for the swallowing. He's on a total liquid diet now. The past two days he's been spitting out most of what he's trying to swallow. This problem with his eating reminded me of my cousin Bud who died two weeks ago. Before his died he refused to eat anymore. 

I became so concerned that I called Delaware Hospice. I checked online the signs of imminent death and Bill was hitting all those markers. 

A Delaware Hospice nurse came over last night and checked Bill's vitals. His vitals looked good. She said he's just probably "plateauing at a different level." 

This morning Bill's VA nurse also called. I updated her on Bill's condition. We agreed to monitor him now. 

Our main concern is keeping Bill here at home where he is most comfortable. I don't want Bill's last days to be spent in a strange place. My brothers and I promised our Mother that we wouldn't put her in a nursing home. We were able to keep that promise to her, she died on her own bed in my brother's home. She would have preferred her own home but we weren't able to do that but we did the next best thing.

Bill is ready to go. I am ready for him to go to, as ready as I'll ever be. I'm trying to get myself ready for when he is no longer with me. As I told Bill many times in the past months as I tried to reassure him that he would not "miss" me when he goes, "You won't miss anything Bill. When you go you'll know nothing. At best you'll be reborn with a whole new fresh memory and life. I'm the one who is going to miss you."

We're all going to die. Most of us don't know when. Bill has a good idea that his time is arriving. 

Three years ago when I was given the option to airlift Bill to the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia because of his stroke and subsequent fall where he caused himself a brain injury, I thought I had lost him then. That's why I gave the go ahead for the helicopter ride to Philly which only took a half an hour versus an ambulance ride which would take two and a half hours that I was told he probably "wouldn't survive."

I made the right decision and since then I've had another three wonderful years with this man, who has been my life's savior. Without Bill in my life I would have been nothing. Bill came into my life when I was at a crossroads. He has saved me multiple times over the past fifty-nine years by always being my steady rock as I often veered towards hasty and unwise decisions. I can hardly beat to think of my life without Bill but I must.

I will end this post with one of the daily mediations that I receive from the James Terry Funeral home. The same funeral home that performed the services for both of my parents and where I have indicated that my final services will be performed. Nearby that funeral home in  I have two beautiful lots in the Northwood Cemetery that overlook my hometown of Downingtown, Pennsylvania. That will be our final resting place, on a hill overlooking the town that was our home together for twenty-five magical years and which Bill misses to this day. Yes, Bill and I will return home to Pennsylvania, a wish he has often expressed during the eighteen years we have lived in Delaware.

To lose someone who was part of your daily life is unspeakably difficult. How can you make decisions, share your thoughts, or works through your dilemmas with anyone else in the same way?

You can never replace the relationship you lost. It is a sacred entity in and of itself. You can, however, forage a new path that brings out different strengths and aspects of yourself you may not have known. Do not be afraid to discover these new pathways. This loss, while terrible, will press you to grow as a person.