I was holding Anthony’s hand the other day and he very gently removed my hand from his and gave it back to me.
Me: So you don’t like holding hands with me any more, Ants?
Anthony: It’s a bit tiring, Jules.
Okay.
I was holding Anthony’s hand the other day and he very gently removed my hand from his and gave it back to me.
Me: So you don’t like holding hands with me any more, Ants?
Anthony: It’s a bit tiring, Jules.
Okay.
As I drove up the driveway this afternoon, towards the house, I saw that the dogs were out (Jack, our Irish terrier, and Pip, the new pup on the block). They were frolicking with each other so joyfully that my anxious heart immediately went into calm mode and then I saw why they were so excited.
Ming was dancing in the driveway!
Well today was a bit different from the norm in the sense that my visit to Anthony was fleeting. I was on my way to see a movie with my mother and I literally only had about 10 minutes to spare.
So I rushed into Anthony’s room, admitted I was in a rush (to go to work – my latest ruse) and he was delighted. I knew he was delighted because he smiled and seemed happy to see me so buzzed. I hugged and kissed him multiple times and his smile got bigger.
And when I said, ‘seeya’ he was absolutely fine!
Is it possible that a fleeting visit like this can bring the same amount of joy and comfort as a prolonged visit? Would friends and family be more willing to visit if they knew it could be easy, fleeting, short-lived?
Anthony doesn’t know he has dementia on top of everything else and I don’t see the point in telling him this. But he does know who we are – his friends and family. Sometimes he is confused about who is who but so what!
We still have a lot of joy, and a lot of joy to come, if Ants keeps living and defying the odds. He is an absolute legend and has taught me so much!
This hasn’t happened for so long that I had almost forgotten: Anthony’s wish to come home.
From between noon and 3pm today, Anthony tried, futilely, to get up from his armchair and kept repeating “C’mon, Jules, let’s go home.”
Over and over and over again, I kept making excuses: “I have to go to work at 3pm, Ants” – in reference to support meeting I was attending this afternoon; reassuring him that his long-deceased mother was fine; re-explaining to him that he was in a nursing home and had Parkinson’s disease; and telling him how much I loved him.
Similar stories were shared at the family support meeting and I love the fact that we can comfort each other simply by acknowledging that we are all going through similar experiences with our loved ones.
It is 40 years since I fell in love with Anthony, the cheeky, macho dairy farmer with a penchant for motorbikes and fast cars – a man 23 years older than me who stole my heart.
And, no matter how much I would love to bring him home, I can’t; he is immobile now.
Perhaps, instead of always trying to be positive, I should just accept the fact that this is a horrible situation.
I can’t be bothered with the categories and tags that I should attach to this post/blog. From now on I am just going to write my heart out in whatever way I can and this will be such a relief!
This isn’t home anymore, Ants, because you are not here.