Anger is the second stage listed for the five stages of grief model by Kubler-Ross. When it comes to Alzheimer’s there’s plenty for caregivers to get angry about.
I’m a person who starts with myself, always self-evaluating, looking to see where I went wrong. Until there was an actual diagnosis of Alzheimer’s for Cindy I was “free” to theorize what could be wrong and what could help. The main theory I was working under was “anxiety disorder” based on what had transpired in Cindy’s life. The walk across the country helped, but then no further improvement occurred once we got back, even though her life remained stress free.
Willing to try anything I agreed to take a job at a residential summer camp. The camp was close enough to home that I could stay here once a week and our son Noah was home as well. My theory was that leaving Cindy to her own will, rather than being so dependent on mine, would lead to some growth and recovery. Perhaps there was an element of needing a break to my decision as well, after we had been together 24/7 for two straight years.
In any case the experiment did not work. My first day back it might have seemed otherwise. Cindy claimed she was able to work the microwave better when I wasn’t around. Other than that small, debatable tidbit it was obvious she had regressed the most in my absence since she first became afflicted. In retrospect I look back at what a dumb idea that was, but I no longer beat myself up too much over it.
When it comes to the five stages of grief the target of anger usually is God, or fate, life in general. There was plenty of that type of anger as well. As we walked across the country, as well as the year afterwards, Cindy often remarked “I can’t wait to have grandchildren.” I get really angry when I dwell on the fact that she will not have grandchildren, at least not ones she will recognize. I also get angry when I think about how we will not reach our 50th together, something that I … and I suspect everyone that knows us … thought was automatic. That one is kind of dumb, 50 is just a number, but still.
To be honest, I even held some anger towards Cindy. I admit to being angry when I first learned she could not remember us making love an hour earlier. I suppose that one is stupid as well, or perhaps something like being too macho. For whatever reason it hurt, though not as much as the other thing I remember getting angry about.
Cindy’s family has a history of Celiac’s disease. When her sisters first pointed this out to me as a possible cause I was excited. The mental impairment symptoms seemed to fit at the time. If true all we needed to do was change her diet. Yet Cindy did not like the idea of having to stop eating certain things, mainly I think she wanted to continue making and eating her famous cinnamon bread. I remember thinking something along the lines of “How dare she not want a simple diet fix to her problems!” She got her wish, as tests revealed she did not have Celiac’s.
None of this anger was productive. None of this anger changed anything, not even the anger towards myself. That’s why anger is an interim stage for grief and not a landing point. Yet before getting to that landing point of acceptance there were a couple other emotions I experienced.
