Still Somebody

Late this morning when I was taking Bob to the bathroom, he said, “I want to die.”

Imagine yourself in a situation where you feel totally confused, you do not know where you are, you don’t know why you’re being asked to do something, you don’t always know who your loved ones are, you’re not even sure who you are. On top of all that, you don’t feel well, you feel worn out, exhausted.

No wonder he said he wants to die.

In September 2006, Bob fainted in the checkout lane at the grocery store. It was a clear signal that going out had become too much for him. (I had to get him out twice after that episode for health care appointments - wasn’t easy for him.) Since then, I’ve had sitters for him, and in August of this year, I enrolled him in hospice, so now we’re getting much needed extra help. It’s a lonesome feeling going grocery shopping and running errands without him. I’d rather be home with him, but “they” say it’s good for caregivers to have breaks. “They” are right, of course.

A couple of days ago as I was helping Bob up from his chair, he said, “It’s hard for an old man.” He’s right, it is, especially in the severe stage of Alzheimer’s.