Foreshadowing and Numbness

Early morning had arrived, just beginning to intrude on the darkness in the room. I heard Cindy go: “Uh-oh.” Recent events led me to believe she had an accident, but we were prepared for such accidents and I could wait until our normal wake-up time. As that time approached and more light entered the room, I could see there was a different problem: Cindy’s feet were off the bed.

I hope now that was the cause for what came next. I could not get Cindy to move from the bed to the bathroom; she simply could not remain on her feet. For the first time I used the wheelchair we purchased with some of the Calm the Mind campaign funds (most went to the pedicab). While she remained on the throne I dressed her and waited. Eventually she was able to stand up and even go down the stairs. In subsequent mornings she did better, but still not as well as before that morning we first used the wheelchair.

One of the things that really saddened me after Cindy’s diagnosis was the fact that we would not make our 50th wedding anniversary together. Fifty is just a number, but a nice round number. Over the past year I’ve replaced the number fifty with thirty in my aspirations. On September 19 we will be married for thirty years. I was very confident we would make that until the wheelchair episode. I still think we will make it, but I’m not quite as confident.

This week has been full of foreshadowings. On the positive side I pedaled both Cindy and Serena in the pedicab one day; I’m ready for anyone now. Come on by and I’ll give you a ride along with Cindy (not to Tobey Pond, though, that’s strictly a one rider route). Really, I’d love to, as long as the total weight I’m pulling is under 500 pounds. You better take me up on the offer before this year ends, though.

Other foreshadowings have not been as positive. Daughter Serena and boyfriend Kevin were busy packing and seeing friends before their big move to California, leaving on August 17. I feel strange over their departure. Through taking bold steps in our lives we grow. This is the boldest step Serena has taken; normally I would be very excited and delighted for her new adventure. Yet California is a long ways away; we certainly will not be heading out there for the rest of Cindy’s life. Watching Serena say goodbye to her Mom could be the last time I see the two of them together. How can I delight in that?

Along with Serena leaving we will be switching from a live-in caregiver program to one that allows us to employ caregivers to help us. This switch actually should provide me more time to myself, to work on projects and perhaps even to earn some income. Yet we are social creatures. The house will seem empty without Serena and Kevin lounging in the kitchen or living room; or without hearing them up in the attic laughing hysterically to the Late Night Show. You can never hear too much laughter in your life.

With all this “foreshadowing” I’ve felt a bit numb this week. Part of this could be dut to the recent humidity, but also is like the anesthesia before dental work. Something has to change but the change will be painful without first numbing the senses. I have nothing against this strategy; in fact, I would embrace numbness for when we are near the end. The problem with Alzheimer’s is you cannot be quite sure when the end is. I have no wish to numb myself while there still remains ample time to tell dumb jokes and make Cindy smile; I rather numb myself only for the last week before her passing. This means, I hope, that I better snap out of this week’s numbness until sometime after September 19.