My answers for those who ask me ‘How’s Evelyn? And how are you?’
His wife has suffered with Alzheimer’s for 17 years or more, and he thought he’d write about it someday. So he kept notes to remind himself of what they were experiencing, what she was saying, and how he was feeling.
“But I’ve discovered I don’t have as much to write these days as I had at first,” he told me.
After only five or six years living with this disease, I can relate.
Evelyn and I seem to be on something of a plateau, each of us in different ways.
How’s Evelyn?
When people ask me, “How’s Evelyn,” I can honestly answer, “Pretty good.”
Louisiana shrimp, rice, and carrots. And an ice cream sandwich for dessert. As is true with most lunches, Evelyn enjoyed this one yesterday.
She eats well and enjoys her food. She is pleased to occupy herself with reading in her wheelchair pushed close to a table so she’s not tempted to stand up. Caregivers enjoy their time with her. Occasionally she participates in one of the activities in the community room. She sleeps well. She seems content.
It’s not that there’s no change with Evelyn. But the day-by-day decline seems slight and less shocking to me than at first.
How’s Mark?
And it’s not that I don’t grieve anymore. A man whose wife died six years ago would still grieve, too. He’d look with longing at pictures from their years together. He’d remember travel and concerts and ball games and family gatherings. He’d see how those close to him miss her, and that would spark the greatest grief of all.
But he wouldn’t be as shocked by his new life as he was at first. He’d be learning how to accept it.
Sentir y Viajar photo at istockphoto,com
He’d discover ways to occupy his time alone. He’d push himself to travel or try something new. He’d work to overcome the “fifth-wheel” feeling when he was with a group of couples. He’d search for opportunities to make himself useful to others and take his attention off himself.
This is close to where I am. Notice all the verbs in the above paragraphs. Something like a widower, I’m learning, discovering, pushing, working, and searching.
Today’s routine
I’ve settled into a routine with certain activities on certain days, certain errands and responsibilities every week, and a willingness for the routine to continue.
Evelyn smiles, but not as often. I still have tears, but not as many. Sometimes the house feels very empty, but sometimes I enjoy the freedom that comes with being alone.
Our situation could get worse at any moment, but for now things seem to be pretty much one day as they were the day before.
This plateau, if that’s what it is, won’t last forever, maybe not long. But I’ll take it for now.
Evelyn seems fine with her life these days. And I guess I feel the same about mine.