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Portrait of a Gentle-Man |
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I am not an artist, but I do like to paint and do creative things. I would like to paint you a picture, a panoramic landscape, of a wonderful man who has been my husband for 39 years. The colors would be greens, browns, and earth tones, because he loves the outdoors; (nature, fishing, hunting, hiking, running, and all kinds of athletics). There is a bright sun, because he is always smiling and cheerful. No gloominess in this picture. Beneath a beautiful mountain is a stream, running very, very fast, making its mark in the world, just as he did for 36 years working for the same company. Sitting beside the stream is a fisherman, who hates to eat fish, but loves to catch them. The tent is pitched and the stove is hot, ready to cook the catch of the day. Under a tree are two precious children and their spouses, whom he dearly loves. Hiding behind that tree are four darling grandchildren who are the apples of his eye. This is a man who loves life, works and plays very hard and is a very devoted and loving husband. If I could take that picture and put it in a time machine back to 1958, you would be looking at the beginning of our lives together. The last 39 years have been wonderful. Life has been good to us. Dick spent a good deal of his life working very hard to provide for our family, but in between managed to coach little league baseball and football, do lots of camping, hiking and fishing, traveled all over the U.S., helped around the house and yard, refinished furniture, etc. A neighbor once said to him, �You know, Dick, you don�t have to be doing something all of the time.� Hustle, bustle has been the picture of our lives together. As the children grew up, our lives changed considerably. Both children found wonderful partners for life and blessed us with four wonderful grandchildren. Then the picture narrows, and there are just two of us, husband and wife, looking forward to retirement, seeing the world, and sitting back and finally stopping to smell the roses we possibly missed along the road of life. The picture is now dated November of 1994, and after 36 years with the same company, and on the same day our grandson Aaron was born, Dick lost his job. (Talk about lows and highs.) But what happens after Alzheimer's? The fisherman doesn�t fish, the traveler doesn�t travel, there is no hustle and bustle to go to work, no playing with grandchildren. Thankfully, the smiles and cheerfulness have not disappeared, although there is a fog hanging around that doesn�t ever seem to dissipate. The diagnosis came after a long year of wondering what was happening to us. Was retirement just too overwhelming? We were not used to being together for 24 hours a day. Everything was so different than before. Counseling seemed to be the only way to deal with what was happening. So I went to a therapist, and finally came to the conclusion that the only way to solve the problem was for both of us to participate in the sessions. It was a long haul, but with some urging, he finally went with me. And much to everyone�s surprise, even the therapist, we found out that he just didn�t understand what I was saying. We were referred to a psychiatrist and then a neurologist, who gave us the devastating news in September of 1996, that we had Alzheimer�s disease. Dick turned 60 that month, much too young to be dealing with this devastating disease. During the past year, the picture has change drastically. The Gentle-Man is still with us, but he has lost his social graces and is somewhat childlike. He is totally dependent on me to take care of almost everything in our lives; i.e. finances, yard work, driving, any kind of decision making. His speaking ability is hampered in that he sometimes cannot find the words to say what he wants to say. He no longer drives. Thankfully, his disposition is such that he has given up driving, hunting (dangerous things) without any arguments. Dick is still the same sweet man he always was and everyone who knows him agrees. He was always an affectionate man, but now he needs extra hugs, which is very typical of people with Alzheimer�s. In regard to memory, he has lost some things, but so far not his orientation to time and place. He doesn�t remember old friends, and some events, and asks when the children�s birthdays are. He is very impulsive and doesn�t really stop to consider the consequences of some of his actions. To sum up a day in the life of Dick Smith after Alzheimer�s, it would go like this. He gets up at approximately 8:30 to 9 a.m., eats breakfast, and then walks about three miles. Comes home, goes to bed and rests. Walks some more. 11:30, starts thinking about lunch. Usually eats lunch about 12. Then he walks some more. Comes home, goes to bed and rests, and actually sleeps. Possibly looks at the paper, folds clothes or empties dishwasher. Walks some more, comes home, goes to bed. On Tuesday, he helps our neighbor deliver meals to the elderly, which perhaps makes him feel at least somewhat useful. On Thursdays he takes out the trash and after it has been picked up, he takes about four or five neighbors� trash cans back to their houses. He walks approximately ten miles a day, and paces in the kitchen also. We eat dinner, and then he walks again and collects golf balls in the woods and creek at the local country club. By the way, he doesn�t play golf, but we probably have 300 golf balls. On his many walks through our neighborhood everyone comments that Dick always brightens their day when he goes by and waves and gives them a big smile. It is now approximately 8 p.m. and the man who had never missed a day of work in 36 years, except for a hernia operation, is complaining about his aches and pains. Usually, at about 8:30 or 9 p.m. he is in bed. And so the cycle goes, he gets up, eats, walks, sleeps, walks, sleeps, eats, walks, goes to bed. Alzheimer�s Disease has taken away the man I married and given me someone I hardly know. It is not the man that is doing these unusual things, but the disease. This is a terminal disease, but no one knows how long it will last. The progression is unpredictable, and therefore there is always a feeling of helplessness, uncertainty and frustration, never knowing what might happen on any given day. The picture is painted, the sun is still shining, the stream is rolling merrily along, the fisherman still looks the same, but...no one knows.
by Marsha Smith
Last updated: June 14, 1999
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