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.

It's Sundowning Time Again

In the late afternoon, I feel my energy flagging and my patience thinning. I want to sit awhile and relax. I am human, after all. But it's sundowning time again. He's anxious, nervous, agitated. He jumps up, starts pacing, and is in a hurry to "go somewhere."

"Where would you like to go?" I ask.
"Somewhere," he replies.
"Yes, but where?" I am hoping for a hint of what's going through his mind.
"Let's GO!" he demands.
"Okay, but where do you want to go?"
He points to something in the room. "This thing here," he says.

Okay. We go out to the car, pull out of the driveway, and drive around aimlessly for a half hour or so. At each stop sign, I ask him which way he wants me to turn. He seems to be enjoying himself a little and relaxing. I am encouraged as I pull back into the driveway.

"Finally!" he says, relief on his face.

We walk into the house and settle in front of the television for a little distraction. We've been home five minutes.

"Well," he says, jumping up, "Let's go home!"
"We ARE home, honey," I explain.
"Well, can we go now?!"

I hesitate. I am tired and need to prepare our evening meal. He impatiently opens the back door and storms out.

"Please close the door," I think dejectedly as I follow him out.