The tears began to roll down Sylvia’s cheeks, even before she opened her eyes on Christmas morning. Last night, it took an unusually long time for her to fall asleep. Christmas Eve had been a magical evening for her and Jim for decades. It was one of the first family traditions that they established, as newlyweds.
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Adobe Stock photo by Art_Photo |
This was her first Christmas Eve without her belovèd Jimmy.
It was only after several uncomfortable months of sleeping on the couch, that she finally forced herself to begin sleeping on their matrimonial bed again, but never on Jim’s side.
Even when she woke up in the middle of the night, to use the bathroom, Sylvia still climbed out of the bed, on her side, even though Jim’s side was beside the ensuite bathroom in the master bedroom.
Death is such a cruel thief, but not nearly as despicable as Alzheimer's. The disease slowly stole Jim from her, changing his personality, almost imperceptibly at first. His communication devolved from flowery, enthusiastically expressed sentences, to short monotone phrases, which eventually gave way to grunts, nods and shaking his head.
Then one morning, Sylvia was met with a blank, vacant stare when she asked her hubby, if he wanted his coffee in bed or in the kitchen. Her heart sank.
She had periodically attended the Canadian Alzheimer’s Association’s online Zoom workshops during the pandemic.
However, nothing could have prepared her for the moment when her husband of 42 years no longer recognized her.
Jim looked directly into her eyes, with the curiosity and innocence of a toddler, meeting a stranger for the very first time. It was heartbreaking.
During the next six to eight months, Jim occasionally recognized her, even calling her by name, on one occasion. These heartwarming moments were comforting — having a glimpse of the old Jimmy — even for a fleeting moment.
So many voices, Jim’s doctor, his personal support workers, concerned family members and friends had pleaded with her to put him in a home, for the sake of her mental, emotional and physical well-being.
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Adobe Stock photo by SOMKID |
Sylvia refused adamantly. She tuned them out for a very long time. To her, this felt like spousal neglect. She felt that the daily morning visits from the PSW was enough assistance.
“… in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
Sylvia took her wedding vows very seriously.
She almost relented, when she was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. She paid to have a second support worker come each day, for an hour, in the early evening, to feed her precious Jim, get him ready for bed and read the newspaper headlines to him.
At this point, Sylvia had learned the hard way that caregiver’s burn-out is real. When the second PSW arrived each day, she dropped whatever she was doing and left the house for at least 30 minutes. This much needed break from the demands and responsibilities of caring for her helpless mate’s needs, gave her a few minutes to destress, relax and recharge. It helped to keep her calm and sane.
Two days before Jim’s 63rd birthday, death took him from her, completing the theft that Alzheimer’s had begun a decade earlier. It stole Jim’s mind and his personality. This villain took his breath.
They’d had so many dreams of how they would grow old together gracefully. They had planned to travel after he took early retirement on his 64th birthday, but it never came.
Instead, the money that they had saved, after sacrificing for so many years, went to pay for interventions to slow down the progress of the disease and for Jim’s home care.
Deprived of the love of her life, for Sylvia, the holiday season had forever lost its sparkle.
