Shared Story: ‘I wouldn’t change a thing. But this was hard.’

Joan Miracle is the picture of Southern grace, although she’s lived in Cincinnati for many years. We met at the Healing Center, a ministry to under-resourced families, where we both serve as volunteers. She and her husband, Bruce, were married for 59 years until his death in April last year. He first showed symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease in 2014.

We laughed, and more than once gave into tears, during a delightful time of sharing in a classroom at the Center a couple of weeks ago. Some of my questions, and her tender answers, below.

What were your days like in those years Bruce was living with Alzheimer’s?

Our routine was the same every day, and we managed with it for a long time. After he got up in the mornings, we’d have our devotions. He would read (although I’m not sure how much of it he retained) and we’d both pray. Those are sweet memories.

When we were finished, he’d say, “Well, Joan, where are we going now?”

We’d eat a late breakfast, and I’d tell him, “You just rest awhile, and then I’ll let you know what we’ll do.” And we had an outing every day about 1:30 or 2:00, almost always something simple: Take a walk. Go to the park or to McDonald’s. See a friend. Later I’d fix supper and we’d watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. I’d stretch out, and he would rub my feet. We’d put on Christian music; how he loved the old hymns!

It was tolerable, but it was hard. The hardest part was he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He was very, very sweet, but he wouldn’t let me go anywhere. My sister would come sometimes and talk with him while I fixed supper, just to give me a break. He’d reminisce with her about Kentucky, the farm, and horses.

After dinner, the minute I’d leave the table, he’d want to know, “Where’d she go?”

And was this the most difficult part?

No. The last two years were the toughest.

One example: We had a barn outside where he had a workshop and where he’d spent a lot of time. He’d constantly want to go to the barn to check on it. About 4:30 or 5:00 every day he’d tell me, “I’ve got to go check the barn.” We did this every day, even through the winter. One time he fell on the ice.

But after a while, checking once wasn’t enough. One night we went 11 times. I was up all night. The last time was 5:30 in the morning.

Finally, my nephew Rob, who lived right behind us, said, “Aunt Joan, you can’t take this.” And he volunteered to “check the barn” every night.

I told Bruce, “Oh Honey, you’ve worked so hard and you’re getting tired. Why don’t we let Rob check the barn for you?” The year before he passed, finally he agreed to let Rob do it. So every night about 9:00, even if he was out of town, Rob would call and say, “Uncle Brewster, everything’s fine with the barn. The doors are locked, the lights are out, there are no problems out there.”

Usually that worked. Usually, but not always.

About this time, he started not recognizing me. “You’d better leave,” he told me one time, “because Joan will be back soon, and she won’t like you being here.” I just left and sat in another room a while. When I came back, he said, “Oh, Joan, there you are! I’ve been looking all over this house for you!”

Another time he told me, “I’m not married to you!”

“Oh, yes you are,” I responded.

“Well, prove it.”

So I went and got the marriage certificate with our names and the date on it, and he said, “I don’t remember that at all.”

How have you coped with his death?

Our 59 years were good years. But I must remember the hard times to cope with the loss. This is the only way to accept it.

If I remembered only the good things, it would be hard to live without him. But when I remember the times he struggled, the times we both had trouble dealing with his illness, it’s easier to live without him.

I don’t live with regret. I know I did the best I could do. He was as happy as he had the capacity to be happy. And he’s home. He’s with the Lord!

And I wouldn’t change a thing!

Really! Why do you say that?

Because of this I grew closer to the Lord. Going through this makes us stronger. We don’t like it, but in retrospect we can say, “OK, God, you’ve humbled me. You’ve made me a better person.”

But it’s not easy.

What do you know now that you didn’t know before?

I have a greater appreciation for life and for every day. I’m so thankful for the years we had. And I appreciate them more now than when I was living them.

Memories are precious to me. They videotaped us at Christmastime the last two years he was alive, and on his February birthday just before he passed that April. I’m so grateful for those videos! Early on he would say to me, “I’m so sorry. I’m making it hard on you.” I’ll never forget that.

Every day with an Alzheimer’s patient is a journey. Every day is different in that you don’t know what to expect. You feel helpless, because you don’t know what the journey will be like.

But still you coped. How?

With the Lord. I couldn’t have coped without God. There’s no other way you can live through that! You get supernatural strength from the Lord. Every night before I went to sleep, I prayed, “OK, Lord, give me the strength, give me the patience.” And he did!