The Wanderer

I just found this post that I wrote on March 4, 2018, and apparently never uploaded to the blog. So, this is where we were a year ago, and this is his photo a year ago. He looked so healthy, didn't he? You can't tell a book by looking at its cover.

As you read this "poem," I'm sure you will get a sense of just how frazzled my nerves had become from the daily, hourly, minute-to-minute stress of caregiving alone. Perhaps I didn't post it for that very reason, but now my hope is that it might help someone else to realize the time has come to place a loved one in professional care:

Restless,
Pacing.
Up,
Down.
In,
Out.
Door is open!
Heat is on!
ARGH!

All afternoon,
Lunchtime
to
Dinnertime.
In,
Out.
In,
Out.

He's out the door!
Gate is open!
Oh, no!
In front yard,
Pacing.
Looking.
Pacing.
Looking up the hill,
Looking down the hill...

No!
Don't cross the street!
Come in,
It's cold!
Okay.
Come in,
It's cold!
Okay.

Nothing.

PLEASE come in;
PLEASE close the door.
PLEASE sit here
While I cook dinner.
PLEASE!
PLEASE!

Evening.
After dinner
until
Sleepy time.
Up,
Down.
Up,
Down.
Up,
Down.
Up,
Down.
Up,
Down.
Pacing.
Pacing.
Please, sit down.
PLEASE! My God!
Please help me...

Do you detect the exhaustion and desperation I was experiencing? I didn't remember the last time I hadn't slept with one eye open, if at all. I was badly in need of respite and had scheduled it. Little did I know that we were just weeks away from what turned out to be his permanent placement. It was time. Some might even say it was past time.