In last week’s blog, I noted that long-term caregivers to those who suffer from various forms of dementia constantly struggle with uncertainty: What will I face next? How can I meet the needs of my loved one without destroying myself in the process? Why do I sometimes feel as if I am riding an emotional roller coaster? Is it normal to feel so conflicted?
Considering the Possibilities
Then, moving from generalities to specifics, I detailed the uncertainties that I am presently facing as I attempt to meet the needs of my precious wife Linda, who suffers from severe dementia due to Alzheimer’s disease. On January 29, I had to decide between her having surgery to repair a fractured hip or her total immobilization for eight weeks to allow healing to take place. Near the end of that time frame, when it became apparent that she was going to survive, another round of uncertainties arose: How much have her muscles atrophied? Will she be able to sit up in bed? Can she be taught to sit in a wheelchair? Will the world outside her room be overwhelming to her, or can she acclimate once again to being with her friends?
During the past seven days, I have been made painfully aware that things seldom play out the way that we imagine they will. Without meaning to do so, Thomas Edison summarized my dilemma, “When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this: you haven’t.” An X-ray determined that the left femoral neck bone had stabilized and was correctly located in the hip socket; however, that was not the end of the story. Unfortunately, it merely paved the way for my having to make another very difficult decision.
Making a Decision
Manifesting ageless wisdom, Solomon provided a poignant reminder regarding planning: “Don’t brag about your plans for tomorrow – wait and see what happens” (Proverbs 27:1 TLB). When I was a teenager, my mother condensed the essence of his message into a pithy warning, “Don’t count your chickens before the eggs are hatched!” Regardless, in my excitement over knowing that Linda may soon be able to get out of bed, I ran by both of the warnings. Instead, I thought of how nice it would be to take her for a wheelchair ride, stop at the fish tank, proceed to the picture of the vintage Chevrolet coming off the assembly line and tell her for the umpteenth time, “Daddy had one just like that!” Then, after her medical team outlined two very bleak future possibilities, I made a hard landing on reality:
Getting out of bed – After eight weeks of total immobilization, even if she were able to stand the pain of putting her weight on the still healing right hip, her ankles could never fully support her. Likewise, it is questionable if she could ever sit up in wheelchair again. Furthermore, her body is increasingly sending signals that she is near the end of her battle with Alzheimer’s: problems with swallowing, intermittent crying, and resisting food and water.
Natural end of life — Making her as comfortable as possible would continue to be the top priority. A Physical Therapist could provide exercises that can be done in bed to promote strengthening and flexibility of muscles. The goal would be to enable her to be able to sit up somewhat more erectly.
Considering what is best for Linda – As I pondered these alternatives, my mind flashed back to a September 2017 conversation with my friend Robert Crick. At that time, I was trying to decide whether to admit Linda for a Geri-Psych evaluation at Erlanger Hospital. Having already traveled through this nightmare with his wife Jeanette, his advice was blunt: “Ron, it is time to put on your ‘big boy pants,’ and make the tough decisions that your wife can no longer make.”
Looking back, I am thankful that I fully embraced his advice; however, I had no way of knowing that decision would prove to be a practice run for the unending, and much tougher, decisions that were ahead.
Working through an emotional quagmire – Throughout my adult life, when confronted with tough choices, peace usually comes once I have made a decision. This week was different! After having decided to fully cooperate and not resist God’s natural plan for the end of Linda’s life, I spent several hours engulfed in grief, complete with uncontrollable sobbing. As always, God provided no reprimands, only comfort as I retreated into His Word and focused on two verses which I have underlined in red and highlighted in yellow:
My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress,
I will never be shaken (Psalm 62:1-2 NIV).
Ron Harvard Ministries 