Trying to find my new normal...

Discussion in 'Life After Caregiving' started by Cyndi69, May 8, 2023.

  1. Cyndi69

    Cyndi69 New Member

    I've spent the last six years watching my husband disappear a piece at a time. Dementia is so cruel. Sometimes there were subtle changes, other times it seemed like a big piece of him vanished overnight. I had to change from wife to caregiver. Keep him safe and try to keep things familiar as possible for him. We celebrated our 43rd anniversary in February and he was surprised to learn we were married. Said wow, that's a long time. He passed away peacefully at home a month later. I feel like I've been grieving the loss of him for several years already. I don't really have regrets. I kept him home and took care of him until his last breath. Just wondering what normal will be now.
  2. Jeffry

    Jeffry New Member

    I was the sole caregiver to my wife, who died of lung cancer after a year of intense chemo treatments and chest and brain radiation. I watched her unending pain and suffering, the destruction of her dignity, her loss of bodily functions, her eventual physical incapacitation, and mercifully her last day. It has taken a huge physical and emotional toll on my life, but that pales in comparison to what she went through. While that last year of her life was the worst year of her life, it was ironically the most meaningful year of my life.

    Brevity did not allow you to expand upon all you had to do as your husband's caregiver, but having been a caregiver, I can imagine what your commitment to him had to have been, including having to deal with his dementia. You deserve all the credit in the world for the loving treatment that you provided for your husband. I know the sacrifice and stress you went through as his caregiver, especially during those times when you were exhausted and discouraged and had to dig deep to not let that show. Also, think just how comforting it had to have been for him to look up and see your familiar face, in spite of his irregular dementia, looking back down at him and not the unknown face of some, no matter how well-meaning, other person. You wonder what normal will be now. I don't know what normal will be for you, but what you did for him will always be part of your legacy.