Two Unfortunate Days

I’ve had an unfortunate couple of days in a row, all the more puzzling because lately there has been a bevy of good news. We have a boarder now who brings good cheer and energy to the household. Alison likes spending time with Cindy, indeed, that was a factor influencing her to rent with us; she reads the blog where she saw the notice looking for a renter. Our son Noah likes her, which is saying something, while a couple of sources around this small town have referred to her as a “godsend.” In essence, she’s been paying us to be a companion for Cindy (shh, don’t tell her I said that).

Then this past week a case worker from Connecticut Community Care came out to assess our needs. The upshot: I probably will be reimbursed for being Cindy’s dedicated caregiver. Added to Alison’s rent this would put us back in the black. Another result of that meeting was connecting me to Geer’s Adult Day Care program. I received materials for that on Friday, the first of the two unfortunate days.

I should have been ecstatic about Cindy spending one day a week at Adult Day Care, which would be covered by covered by the CCCI program. She enjoys Alison’s company tremendously, sometimes wandering off to be with her instead of me. That suggests Cindy would enjoy being around a ground of people in a structured, active venue, while giving me a whole eight hours to work on projects. Win-win, right?

I suppose my troubled day really began with a lack of sleep the night before. When I read the materials from Geer, two things jumped out at me. One was all the activities which I knew Cindy cannot do. The other was the screening process that could conceivably conclude that Cindy is too advanced with Alzheimer’s to benefit from their programs.

The thought that Cindy might not benefit from adult day care activities was depressing enough, yet more depressing was the thought that she might. I find myself feeling a little like when my kids first went off to school, then college. Parents look on with nostalgia as chapters turn for their children’s greater independence. In Cindy’s case the new chapter is greater dependence instead on a support system that goes beyond what I can offer alone.

I might have been find if I was not left alone to my thoughts for a significant amount of time while painting the kitchen, part of getting the house ready for the big hikers reunion coming up. With nothing else to focus my mind I dwelled on our life together, how I would give anything to reverse the disease. Damn it! We are supposed to enjoy grandchildren together! I sobbed for a good half hour despite applying a coat of cheery, yellow paint. My heart is breaking and there is absolutely nothing to be done about it.

The next day imposed a different sort of unfortunate events. There is one car, two drivers, for four adults in this household. Noah needs the car for work during the week; I use the car for errands on the weekend. On Saturday Noah had a National Guard function to attend but I still had my errands. One of those was bringing Alison to a bus station in Springfield in order to attend her youngest daughter’s graduation from college.

With Cindy in tow I drove Noah to his function in Simsbury, drove home, drove Alison to Springfield, drove to Simsbury to pick Noah up and drove again. In between I squeezed in the errands of going to the transfer station and to Costco for rotating the tires. Things were tight and I likely dropped Alison off too late for the bus she intended to catch (the graduation was the next day and she still had options).
I was a tired pup when we returned home. I wanted to just veg out, but Cindy is prone to wandering now. Not getting lost wandering, mind you, but opening doors to go in and out while our indoor cats escape wandering. She could not relax, which meant I could not relax, until watching television at night. I draped me arm around her, partly to convey affection, partly to stop her wandering.

Throughout the day I developed an increasing desire to be doing things just for me. Though a much different mood from the day before, both moods led me to the same desire. When this episode passes I need to go on a journey alone. I know not how long the journey, long enough to work through the grief of loss, long enough to feel like I’m living my life for myself.