|
bigtreemurphy.com |
|
Home | Book | Resources | Ethical Issues | Incontinence | Physical Care | About Us | Contact Us | |
|
...he used to be Somebody Excerpt from Chapter 13. |
|
Moments of Love During Trying Times "He became completely incontinent by 1990. We were lucky again. The level of intimacy the two of us enjoyed with each other allowed an easier transition for us as his needs changed. The crossing point for both of us occurred when I realized he wasn’t cleaning himself properly. I took the practical approach and offered what I saw as the only alternatives. Either he let me help, or someone else was going to have to help, or he’d end up dying of filth. Tom was pragmatic as always. As for my attitude towards doing ‘it’, I could see only four choices. I could choose anger, disgust, benign complacency, or love. I made the conscious effort to choose love. Assuring him I could also do this for him without revulsion or personal pain made the transition a lot easier for him and for me. Just to demonstrate that moments of tenderness were possible in what had to be thought of as an impossible breeding ground for such moments, I’ll never forget the following incident ... Tom had contracted a stomach virus which brought with it all the horror one can only imagine in the care of someone with the combination of motor control and reasoning problems Tom had. If there is hell on earth, diarrhea in a late stage Alzheimer’s person is it. If there is a heaven, it only lasts 24 hours. Given my state of sleep deprivation and the physical energy it took to handle Tom’s relentless need for help, I was at my wits end as we once more made the trip to the bathroom with pajamas that had to be changed and floors that had to be cleaned. I wanted to scream I felt so tired, and used, and spent, and unappreciated. And poor Tom. He was just responding to being sick and anxious from all the activity surrounding that night, getting more and more combative as the night wore on and as my own anxiety level increased. I remember steering him one more time into the bathroom and out of desperation, (I don’t where the words came from,) I uttered ... "Thank you, Lord!" And Tom responded ... "Thank you for what?" "It could be worse, Tom." "How?" "I might not still love you as much as I do." He turned his head towards me and said ... "You still love me?" "Of course, I love you." "God, I love you too." I saw tears form in his eyes and he continued ... "Bevy!" "What, Tom." "Thank you." The evening became one of sharing the absurdity of what was going on in our lives and one of reconnecting to each other. And it was a sort of turning point for me. I stopped feeling victimized by what Tom’s care needs meant by simply moving out of anger and into love, realizing in the process that it was as easy as making the choice to do so. I had two choices in attending to Tom’s needs and that was to do them happily or do them mad. Either way, they still had to be done. And I realized something else, I realized how much Tom still needed to be loved. After all, what were we actually dealing with? A little poop between lovers wasn’t really that much of a big deal." |