Those who know me will agree that I keep on going, trying to find a solution to problems regardless of difficulty. I make attempts to learn something new, to write something better, to help others where I can, to advocate for other caregivers.
I received a most welcome gift this week, however. A woman who had recently met me, then read my book, Put That Knife Away, wrote to me that I had persevered. My accomplishment, she added, is helping her to persevere through the newly diagnosed dementia of her husband.
Using the past tense of the word freed me somehow. She was correct I now realize; my struggles with caregiving have diminished. My husband is no longer angry; I have moved him to a quiet peaceful home instead of the larger facility where he had been living for the past three years. I can relax.
My caregiving is not over; I visit regularly, bringing magazines or his winter jacket. I witness his contentment and I am relieved that his needs are being met so well. I can now persevere in writing the sequel which will be called I Want to Go Home, a book about the various residential avenues my husband and I have explored and those that have been used by the members of my support group.
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