Married 27 years, I notice the need for notetaking. I need to write this down. What is happening to my husband? I watch his mind slip into thin air with furrowed eyebrows, puzzled, curious, confused and afraid, forgetting to eat, forgetting familiar places, fear of falling, a flashlight to sleep. Navigating labyrinths of resources for care. Note to self: move my feet, my head will follow. Primary care, neurologist, neuropsychologist. Ten doctors later, he’s losing his mind. My heart pounds, I forget to breathe. Eyes welling up as I dare to risk vulnerability, role changes from caring spouse to caregiver. I’m carrying 20 pounds of groceries, 36 hours a day. I dare not drop one, they’ll all fall. I need to navigate my labyrinth of self-care. Therapist, priest, family and friends. Four hours with him, four hours with me. I’m keeping score of his care, my care. Fearlessly following my intuition, remembering, courage is fear that has said its prayers.
Further reproduction is by written permission only.
We welcome your poetry to share with other caregivers. Submission guidelines