about writing and life and God

Thursday in nightmare-land

on April 18, 2013


Another Prezzo lunch. It’s the same place. Same staff. Same food. Same drinks – a big glass of Shiraz for him, a diet Coke for me, then two black coffees.

But it’s not the same. Because we are in a different place. Further down the slippery slope of this nightmare that is dementia.

The weird thing is I seem to be the only person aware of it. He’s enjoying the outing, the food, the booze. The haul of weird and wonderful charity shop books (5 for £2) which he chose today. He thinks he’s having a nice time. The staff enquire is everything all right and I say yes. Thank you.

It’s only later on the way home that I start to cry.

How much longer? Oh God, how much longer? It’s seven years since the diagnosis. Today he asked as we made our slow way back to the car ‘How long is it since I was able to walk normally?’ A shockingly intelligent question. But how long is it since anything was normal? Will my life ever be normal again? Will I survive this? Or will it go on for so long that I will be too old to have any kind of life when it’s finally over?

I feel horribly selfish even thinking this way, but I do feel I have stumbled into a dank dark dungeon where someone has thrown away the key. Today I have no resources left. I pray. I keep praying.

It really is completely up to God now.


4 responses to “Thursday in nightmare-land

  1. It’s tough Dorothy. But you do have two blessings I guess. One is that your husband is happy to be in residential care. And the second is that he is seemingly unaware of his limitations MOST of the time.My mother in law, who was both blind and very frightened in the later stages of her illness was neither. One day at a time has to be the way to go, although it IS tough. Praying for you..

  2. riches1951 says:

    Dorothy, praying for God to deluge you in blessing. I am so full of admiration for you. I’ve just been through one of the hardest months of my life, watching my dear husband going through stem cell harvest/ big hit chemo/ stem cell transplant – the culmination of a year’s treatment for myeloma (cancer). Seeing him so sick, weak, vulnerable – that’s so hard. As is the prospect of a future with more treatment and the wait for the relapse. But he has hope of remission – possibly a number of years – which I know you have not. Be strong in the Lord. 1 Corinthians 10:13 is a comfort to me – God will not test/tempt us beyond what we are able to bear. Much love and hugs, Lin.

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