Ecstasy … One dictionary defines ecstasy as “an overwhelming feeling of great happiness or joyful excitement.” Once my late wife’s condition progressed from moderate to severe stages of AD, I was no longer able to experience any feelings of ecstasy. That was a feeling I could no longer relate to.
I was not happy or excited about anything while watching my
wife decline further and further. How
could I feel overwhelmingly happy with Clare now living apart from me in an
assisted living community … and with Clare slowly dying right before my eyes.
Overwhelming happiness would have described my feelings if I
were to have had even one more visit with “Clare being Clare” again … my best
friend, my lover, my wife. For 50 years,
Clare was the one person I shared everything with. Clare was the first person I went to when I
needed anything, when I needed to talk about something, when I needed advice
about something. When I just needed a
hug.
If I were somehow able to have had just one more visit with “that”
Clare, then I would have been able to experience ecstasy again. Such a visit would have provided me with an
overwhelming feeling of happiness. Such
a visit would have brought me an overwhelming feeling of joyful excitement.
But I was never able to experience that emotion again … not even
once during Clare’s final few years.
Those days were long gone … forever.
Ecstasy … an emotion I
was unable to experience once Clare entered moderate to severe stages of AD. It is very difficult for AD caregivers to
experience ecstasy when their soul mate is fading from their lives.
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Embarrassment … Clare was
embarrassed about what was happening to her and she didn’t want anyone to know
her diagnosis. Not even our closest
friends. Clare was embarrassed about how
much she was forgetting.
She had always been incredibly
articulate. And she enjoyed socializing
so much with others. She was so active in numerous volunteer activities. But as her AD symptoms worsened, she started
pulling back. That alone was not easy
for her to do.
Friends could see that something
was wrong, but Clare just refused to tell anyone that she was in the early
stages of AD. No matter how often I
suggested that telling others might make her life easier … that others would
then understand why she was forgetting so many things, and why she was often
confused … Clare refused. She was too
embarrassed. So … although many of our
friends could easily see that something was wrong” with Clare, she never wanted
to talk openly about AD.
I was never embarrassed about
anything that was happening to Clare.
She couldn’t control what AD was doing to her, so there was nothing to
be embarrassed about. But I could never
convince her of that.
At a certain point, it was left
to me to tell family and friends about what was happening to Clare … and it
came as no surprise to anyone I told.
Embarrassment … an
emotion that too many people with AD needlessly experience.
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Envy … For several years,
I was envious of some of my married friends.
Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?
But as I saw my happily married friends looking forward to bright
futures together, and knowing that Clare and I wouldn’t have those same good years
together, I sometimes became envious.
Clare and I weren’t even able to
enjoy much of our 60s together, yet here were our friends looking forward to
enjoying their lives together for decades more.
Clare and I had been enjoying our
early retirement so much … domestic and foreign travel experiences, visiting
with children and grandchildren, enjoying our hobbies and volunteer activities. And all of that started to come to a halt for
us.
We had expected to enjoy our
lives together for another 20 or 30 years, if not more. Yet here I was watching those expectations
blow up in my face. So, yes, I was
envious of some of our friends who were as deeply in love with each other as we
were, but unlike us they were able to see a world of love and fun and enjoyment
lasting for decades.
Clare’s decline had already
reached the level where, at age 67 and in an assisted living facility, she was sometimes
kissing other male residents goodnight thinking they were me. She no longer remembered or understood that I
was her husband. Where was our future
together?
I loved Clare for as long as
there was breath in my body. But I was
envious of those whose futures were once the futures we had expected for
ourselves. And it hurt.
Envy … despite our absolutely
wonderful life together for nearly 50 years … a true “fairy tale marriage” … I definitely
started to envy those who had or expected to have those extra years together that
I knew Clare and I would never have.
Envy can be a very difficult emotion to experience in that context …
very difficult.
