What a rat race!

[Guest guest]

I wrote to Sharon and Jan, but decided this is a learning lesson for all of

us. I am going through a terrible time of it.

Hi dear Jan,

I wrote all this to Sharon, but really wanted to talk to you about it. What

would you do with this? My being around Don seems to set him into unrest. The

nurses said it right up front a long time ago, that Don is harder to handle

when I'm around. Yet, he loves me with all his heart. What gives?

Don was on a tear again today. I went to see him after I had done a bunch of

laundry. My bedding, plus other things. Making my bed wears me out, and I

did a lot more.

I asked Don if he wanted to go for a ride. He said yes. So we signed out,

and going out the drive, the bright idea hit me to take him to the apartment to

talk quietly and listen to music. He stepped in the door and sun was

streaming in over my plants, and lace curtains had been put up. His loving

attitude

and wanting to kiss me was gone in a snap. He walked all over and studied

everything, and looked through my closet. He asked if anyone came to see me. I

told him no. I only love him.

Then, He was going to live with me, and I couldn't calm him down no way. His

agitation was more than I could handle. After what seems eons and, trying to

divert him, I asked if he wanted to go for a drive. He did, but as we were

walking out the door I pretended I didn't hear him say, " We are coming right

back here. " So, when we drove in the country for thirty minutes he wanted to

go to the house. I took him to the nursing home. It was four o'clock, and he

hadn't taken a nap all afternoon. He used the whole afternoon trying to argue

with me. I couldn't redirect him. Then he would say I was the one arguing. He

grabbed my purse and was so nasty I couldn't do a thing with him.

I had told the nurse I would take him home. But, just then a little old lady

fell. She went down on her back and hit hard. She was alright, except I

wonder about a slow bleed.

So the nurse told us to take a seat, and she would be with us in a minute.

Don wasn't going to wait for her. He took my purse and was going, but he

couldn't get in the car, so he came back in. I have an opener hanging from both

ends of my purse, and the keys snap just inside.

He kept on agitating. I got one of the aids to try to talk to him. But, this

time the aid couldn't get anywhere. He tried to take the purse, and Don was

surprisingly strong. He held on tight. I stopped the Director of Nurses, and

she asked if anything was wrong, if he hurt, etc. He said his back hurt, and

his throat. As she continued to talk he said his back didn't hurt, but his

throat did. So while she was on the phone to the doctor, he was still having

fits.

I saw his daughter and stopped her down the hall. Boy, let me tell you she

can talk to her daddy. She took the purse away from him, and handed it to me.

She finally got him to a table to eat. They set one away from a lot of noise.

After the Tylenol worked and he had supper he was finally ready to settle

down, and I got him to bed, kissed him goodnight and said I would see him

tomorrow.

Trouble is, a man is coming to install grab bars in my bath area in the

morning and

I won't visit Don in the afternoons again. Part of it was my fault. I should

have never brought him here in the first place. I called his daughter and

told her how sorry I was, because I had driven him by the apartment. I even

told Don when he was here. " why, Don, you're jealous of my pretty apartment. "

Of

course he denied it. But, he even talked about the sun streaming in over the

plants, and said the apartment was his, and, " The plants are mine too, you

know. "

I told his daughter I won't take him out in the car again. And, I certainly

won't bring him to the apartment.

I am exhausted and wrote far more than expected. Jan, should I even be here?

Should I visit him all the time? I am tempted to go home and let him calm

down. He wants things the way they were and they won't be as long as my

presence reminds him.

Love a lot dear friend,

Imogene

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