Alzheimer's Story Con't

My Story Continued

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In the days and weeks that followed, Mary Ellen came to be a valuable friend. She offered to do the grocery shopping
or visit with Tom while I went out to run errands. Julie and Richard kept in close touch too,
and helped whenever time and family schedules permitted. Tom did well and seemed delighted with
our new young friend. She became a special part of our lives, and we began to include her in family occassions.
She had lost her father as a young girl, and Tom seemed to fill the void to a degree.

Weeks turned into months, and the Christmas season was especially sweet that year. Mary Ellen
baked batches of holiday goodies, and helped me cook a fifteen pound turkey for Christmas Day.
We all gathered at our home, including Mary Ellen's mother and had a wonderful feast. When dinner was over,
we all sat around and sang Christmas carols while Richard's wife Kathryn played the piano.
A light snowfall blanketed the city in white and everything seemed so perfect. It was such a special time.

The days flew by, and Spring came. Tom and I began to take walks again, but there were times when
he would become disoriented and start off down another street. Most of the time I could redirect him
and he would come along happily, but sometimes he became very annoyed and I had a hard time getting him
to co-operate. He began to have spells where his anger got a little out of control and he had hit me
across the cheek with the back of his hand once or twice. This was so unlike Tom's gentle nature,
and it began to scare me a little. He was such a large man, and there was a brute strength in his big Irish hands.
I knew he would never intentionally hurt me, but his disease sometimes made him irrational.

The Alzheimers seemed to be progressing quickly, or so the doctors said. Tom's behaviour was becoming unsafe,
for himself and for me. It was time he had twenty-four hour care. I had done all I could, but it was
getting to be too much for me. My kids and Mary Ellen all agreed it was time to find a place where
Tom could get the care and supervision he needed.

We searched for months and months, trying to find a facility that would take him, but all the decent
ones were full and the waiting lists endless. Our names were taken, but hopes of a spot becoming
available were pretty dim. I enrolled him in a day program where he spent two hours a day with other adults
like himself. I used those hours to do something just for me. Something totally selfish,
like take a bubblebath or go for a walk (our walks together had stopped now), or go to a matinee,
and I think it's what kept me sane. A year passed before a spot finally became available for Tom.
He was taken into a small, private, nursing home. It was expensive, but his pension and social security covered it,
with a small sum to spare. It was a tidy little place with a homey atmosphere, and Tom seemed to fit in there.
It was full of lovely antiques and painted in bright cheerful colours. The staff was friendly and caring,
and we couldn't have asked for more.

Life became a routine of visits to the nursing home and trips to the doctor. I accompanied Tom on these trips,
with Richard and Julie along for support and assistance. Tom was pretty well behaved, but did get quite agitated
occassionally with the traffic. He bantered on about silly nonsense at times, and other times
stayed silent as if he wasn't sure just where he was.

I felt him slipping farther and farther from me, and I was powerless to stop this cruel process.
At times he would appear quite lucid and talk about his boyhood along the green fields and rocky cliffs
of Ireland's coastline. He went into great detail and I loved to hear his tall tales of his young carefree days,
yet if you mentioned what he had just had for lunch, his mind drew a blank. He had small fits of anger at times,
but they were seldom and short lived, thank goodness.

Eventually, he began to fade more and more, and no longer recognized my children as familiar to him.
They felt a great loss. Tom had come to mean a great deal to them and to Mary Ellen, who also joined
the ranks of the unknown. Nevertheless, they all stayed close and visited just the same. Each time
he greeted them as a new potential friend. The day finally came when he forgot who I was too,
and although I thought I was prepared for it, it hurt me deeply.

Tom lingered on for two more years. I visited twice a day, everyday, faithfully,
and we shared a sort of friendly comradery. I missed the old Tom of course. Missed his caring and zest for life.
Most of all, I missed his touch. I had an abundance of wonderful memories though,
and I knew they would keep me going for a long time to come.

One morning at six A.M., the phone rang. Somehow I knew, before I picked it up, that it was time
to say "Goodbye". The nurse spoke softly, telling me I should come as soon as possible.
I called my children and Mary Ellen and we all went to the nursing home together. We walked
down the hall to his room in silence, just as the doctor came out. He looked at me and said sadly,
"He's going. It won't be long."

I walked through the door with leaden footsteps, and stood beside his bed. My big, Irish sweetheart
suddenly looked so small and helpless lying there, and I reached out to brush a stray whisp of silver-white hair
from his forehead. He opened his eyes slowly and in a deep Irish brogue he said,
"Well, saint's preserve us, if it isn't my *best gal* come to dance with me."
"Behave yourself now, Thomas Patrick," I smiled as a tear trickled down my cheek.

His gaze faltered and I sensed an inner struggle. He looked at me with questioning eyes
like a small child waiting for permission to do something, and my instincts told me what it was........
I motioned the children to come closer, and they and Mary Ellen each told him they loved him
and kissed his cheek, then left the room to stand in the hallway, by the open door.

Then it was my turn to say goodbye. I bent to kiss him gently, first on the lips and then on the forehead.
I petted his hair and smiling through my tears I said, "Sleep now Darling, I'll come to you when I can.
I can't leave just yet, but when I do, we'll never be apart again."
With that, he heaved a great sigh that shook his large frame and I felt his body relax and grow still.
And then he was gone.

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