Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Mr. Fix-it



My dear husband has many attributes, clever businessman, quick wit, great golfer, even tempered and a wonderful friend and lover. However, there remains a skill that he has never quite mastered and now with Alzheimer's slowly robbing him of certain basic skills it has gotten worse....his ability to fix things.

This is not to say that he doesn't attempt to fix something, he does with great determination. The joke used to be....if anything needs repair, do not under any circumstances tell George. Plumbers, electricians would be called in secret before he would find out about the broken faucet or burned out outlet. Sometimes, they would be called in to repair his repairs.

Now fear strikes in my heart when I hear him say...."honey, I fixed it". Last night, as he was cleaning up after dinner (which he does lovingly for me) he came to me holding the sink faucet in hand. As he observed my look of horror, he reassured me...he would fix it. Not knowing how he managed to pull the faucet out of its place...."it came off in my hands" I tried to figure out the parts and pieces as we tried in vain to put it all back together. There were a couple of extra parts that didn't seem to fit.

Now I can pretty much figure out how things are put together, having had to be the one to read assembly instructions to my mate as we tag teamed in assembling various complicated storage units, kids toys and the like. But here I had some rubber parts that didn't look to be a part of this unit. He kept trying to fit the round pegs in the square hole. I kept asking again and again, where did you get this part? His confusion and distress kept getting worse. I looked around and discovered where he had gotten the extra parts....from the sink drain. I surmised that he had taken the drain apart in order to fix the faucet. I started to laugh. My Mister Fix-it was at it again.

The plumber has been called.

We, his family, call him the "duct tape king", which is his tool of choice. I have now hidden all the duct tape from him...sometimes it is a matter of survival.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Creating Space

One of the most difficult aspects of living with an Alzheimer's patient, particularly a spouse is defining anew the concept of space. My husband and I, from the beginning of our marriage, were two independent people who created our own spaces in our lives and our home. While being interdependent on one another, we respected our separateness allowing us to come together with renewed and ongoing interest in each other's lives. He developed an interest in art galleries, theatre, and movies (my world). I took up golf and learned to appreciate and enjoy Jazz music(his world). While he played golf with his cronies, I went on art related excursions with my friends. We both enjoy the theatre and our weekly movie date has been a tradition that we started early in our marriage and still enjoy doing. Our yearly trip to Carmel is where we share the common joy of exploring the art galleries, the Monterey Jazz Festival, and an occasional round of golf.

But as I said before, my space, his space is no longer separate, definable...it is our space. We are connected "at the hip" as they say. He cannot function independently very well now without me. He is still able to perform all the normal functions of daily living...he seems strong, fully cognizant, able to have conversations with a rational exchange of ideas....however, he seems to need me to be present at each moment. I am told that this is a normal symptom at this stage of this disease. He seems insecure, fearful, clinging at times. I go to my art class. "When will you return? What time? Will you stop anywhere else?" I try and reassure him. When I am upstairs in my studio, I know he will come up in a few minutes and ask, "What are you doing? When will you come downstairs? How long will you be?"

We go on walks together and he holds my hand tightly, afraid to let go. He now shadows me in the grocery store, when before he would go off and come back with some new item he wanted to try. At the book store where we would lose each other for hours exploring our own interests in books, he now just follows me, closely. I know his fear is losing track of where I am and getting lost.

My vital, independent, adventurer is now a fearful child. I am accustomed to this behavior in my small grandchildren but not in my husband. I steal small moments of privacy, when he naps or is distracted. I have moved my drafting table to the family room so that I can paint while he watches television. I am now trying to create a world, a space that comforts him as well as allowing me to enjoy the time we have together without losing my own space.