The Fear Factor

"Did he ever voice that he was scared after getting diagnosed?" inquired a friend. I had asked people to pepper me with questions and suggestions about what they'd like me to cover in this blog. Surprisingly, the answer to that question is no. When he was told by the doctor that there wasn't a cure, he did say he didn't want to die; but, he was reassured to know that it wouldn't happen any time soon (it hasn't) and seemed satisfied with that.

October 2010
Six months post-diagnosis

In a strange way, he actually appeared relieved to know that there was a physical reason and a name for what was happening to him. It was as though he did not grasp the severity of the situation. I was in shock, and he was smiling. Where most people might have wanted to keep this kind of diagnosis under wraps for a time, he went around telling folks about it. And so our friends and family have known all along, almost as long as we ourselves have known.

Even though my father had suffered from dementia, perhaps the reality of what we would be facing together escaped my husband in those early days. We lived quite a distance away from my parents, and a weekend trip every month or so didn't expose my husband fully to what my mom and dad were going through. My mom was forthcoming in phone calls to me, so I had a better idea. And so perhaps my husband was blissfully unaware of the ravages the disease would have and the toll it would take. After all, my dad had been an old man. You might expect an old man to become weak and frail and forgetful. My husband was still young and strong and otherwise healthy.

Yesterday
Responding to music

As time went on and the disease progressed, he did not appear to be aware of his diminishing capacity; rather, he was frustrated with others. Perhaps he thought he was just fine and everyone else had a problem. Over the years, he did restate his desire not to die on a number of occasions (but not lately). Of course I always reassured him and told him he was going to be around for years and years (and he has).

I'm sure I've been much more fearful and anxious than he has been. There are a lot of things to be scared and anxious about, none of which are on his radar now. I consider that to be a blessing for him. What they say about this disease appears to be true:  It's harder on the family than it is on the person who has it.

But perhaps that's the case for every terminal illness, long or short. It's very difficult to watch your loved one leaving you, no matter what the cause or how it's happening. It's painful. And frightening. I'm told I will probably feel relieved "when it's over." But I doubt it.


This blog is about our journey, not anyone else's. If there's something you're wondering about as you read my entries, please do ask questions. Part of the reason I'm journaling our journey is to increase awareness and understanding of Alzheimer's.