View From My Window

Thursday, July 28, 2022 — Following up on my goof up last week when we showed up at the dr’s office a week early, today we showed up and we were 15 minutes late. <sigh> I had the day right but the time wrong. So we sat in the waiting room for a bit and then they decided we could be seen after all.

They called us in and escorted Robert into the room where they take vitals. His weight was 145.2, which was a disappointment for me, but his blood pressure was excellent. The nurse then took us into the exam room and began doing a standard cognitive ability exam. The first time Robert looked at me for an answer, the nurse told him I couldn’t help him. Needless to say, he didn’t do well on the test. When the dr. came in, I explained that I needed to make sure that Robert’s retirement annuity would continue if something were to happen to me, because he would still need care and care costs money. I told him I was scheduled to have a defibrillator installed in a couple of weeks. The dr. then went over the results of Robert’s last lab work and asked him a couple of questions about his physical condition. After chatting with Robert for a bit, he said he felt that the Alzheimer’s was progressing and he had no problem providing a letter documenting his condition. So, we go back on Monday to pick up the letter.

As we were leaving, everyone was saying, have a nice evening, and I said I planned on taking Robert out to Wendy’s for a frosty, and we’d sit and watch the semi-trucks and trains. As I walked out of the office and headed for the car all I could think was, “Can I cry now?” It hurt to watch him struggle to pass that very simple test. Strange that I know he has Alzheimer’s and I live with his disease each and every day. I know it’s progressing, but for some unknown reason, having the dr. confirm it hit me, and it was all I could do to not break down into tears. Such feelings of sadness that he’s having to go through this.

Half-way to Wendy’s, Robert asked where we were going. I told him to get a frosty and he said, “Oh yeah.” By this time, it was nearly 5:00 p.m. and the sundowning was well underway. Once home, Robert literally collapsed into his chair and closed his eyes. The rest of the evening went the way every evening usually does — he naps until I wake him to go get his shower. He comes back into the living room and I find something to watch on t.v. Within an hour, he’s asleep in his chair and I have to wake him and help him to bed.

Not much else to report so will close with blessings to all. Be safe, take care of yourself and know that you are loved. Keep the faith…

About tehachap

Happily married and retired, my hobbies are quilting, reading and anything to do with trains (watching, photographing and running them in our G scale garden railroad). My husband and I have truly enjoyed our retirement, and have fulfilled one of our primary goals in life and that is to own a home overlooking train tracks so we can watch trains 24/7. We are sincerely blessed in this life.
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7 Responses to View From My Window

  1. It’s really tough being stuck in this very difficult daily reality while also having to plan ahead for both of you – when one partner “goes down”, without hope of recovery, it’s like one in a team of horses now having to pull the load and the other horse as well.
    It’s time to take a closer look at residential services in your broad area, because you don’t want to be doing that in the teeth of a crisis.
    Hang in there.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cathy says:

    Your tip about looking at the abridged version of Jane Austen’s novels as being a teaser worked…..I read their version of Pride and Prejudice- and felt let down, yes I had the story mapped out but it felt a bit ‘empty’….so I’ll knuckle down with the real book sometime and make it to the end. It’s not that hard a read once I get into the flow of the writing.
    I’m also thinking of you as you work through this rough patch. Possibly a note from this Dr to the hospice company (who felt Robert didn’t quite qualify yet) will bring you some physical help (mental as well if it’s available). Cathy xx

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ellen Abbott says:

    Alzheimer’s is such a horrible disease. Not just for the the victim but for the people that love them as well. Hopefully the doctor’s letter will get you some relief in the way of help.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Emille says:

    Well I had a visit to the emergency center, for antibiotics for my foot, But it did not go so well. At the end they took my blood pressure, and was sky high. Then this doc recommended an EKG – I refused, because i came here for my foot. He blasted me at the end that I should start taking medication. Oh well, we all take it in stride. I said nothing and we walked out of there, before anything else happened and would get into an argument:) I am against pharmaceutical meds in this case, because it only masks symptoms.

    Like

  5. Joanne Noragon says:

    I do hope you can get hospice respite soon. You are working far too hard for far too little.

    Like

  6. 67andgood says:

    You are still in the caretaker mode and soon you will need help for yourself too. I hope the weekend is relaxing and both of you have a quiet time.

    Like

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