The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

I am winning the battles but losing the war. Slowly, each day, each new phase of this disease erodes my husband's vitality and memory. I have enrolled him now in an adult day care center for one day a week. A beginning and another step toward that dark abyss. They play music on Fridays. A volunteer band comes in and plays the "oldies". They dance, the ones that can, they play a word bingo, they enjoy forms of mind therapy. Sometimes, various volunteers come in to entertain, a Shakespeare performing group, an art teacher, etc.

I took him that first day; he, clutching my hand as a young child clutches his parent's hand on the first day of school, walking slowly, fearfully, anxious that I would abandon him, forget to pick him up at the proper time. I kissed him, gave him his cell phone, which he can no longer remember how to use, and assured him that I would be there at the exact time to pick him up. The volunteer cheerfully took his hand from mine and led him away. I walked quickly to the car. I broke down and wept for him, for me and for all our dreams that will never be realized. I am told this is good for him and for me. I am told this is the time I need for my self. I drove around for awhile trying to find where I should be for this "time" that I need. I felt lost, as lost as he was in that strange new place. I went to the mall, wandered around, not really engaged in anything. I drove down to the beach and sat in my car, watching the blue Pacific waves and thought he would have loved to be there with me, having a lunch on the sand. I know that we will evolve into this. I am told he will adapt and enjoy the activities and socialization and I will learn to appreciate my respites.

The time came to pick him up and I was ten minutes early. The volunteer brought him out to me. His face went from a perplexed stare to one of happy recognition. He straightened up and walked quickly to me, strong and confident as he used to be. He embraced me and hugged me long and tightly as if we hadn't seen each other in a long time. I didn't want to let go.

We chatted in the car. He enjoyed the day, the new friends, and the music but he was happy to see me. I lied and told him that I ran errands most of the day and had had a good day. I felt better. A bit of letting go on my part. We will be fine with this new arrangement.

We got home and as we got out of the car, he looked at me and asked, "Would you like to come in for awhile for a visit before you have to go home?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.