"I Can't Remember How To Put On My Shoes" - September 8, 2011

Nothing special to say about me other than I never thought I'd be at this point in my life with a husband with continued failing health.  We've been married for just a little over 7 years and since July of 2010 our lives have drastically changed.  Joe had a heart attack and even died and was revived.  Total kidney failure occurred within a matter of a few weeks followed by a series of other medical problems for almost a year.  He's now on the verge of losing his eyesight and is showing evidence of memory loss.  So, in an effort to document this journey into our unknown, I'm going to attempt to describe life as it was, now is and what may be precursors to our future. 

Only two people really know how this is all affecting my own personal life and I'm not writing this for my children to ever read.  My fear is that they wouldn't and couldn't understand and would judge me more harshly than I've already been judged.  So, it's easier to just record for my own personal documentation.

He went to therapy last Tuesday and met with another therapist.  Jeff checked reactions to questions, muscle reflexes and associated tests.  Based on how Joe was doing before he had too much fluid drawn off him in dialysis, it is the consensus that Joe's physical condition has deteriorated.

Then a pivotal moment happened to make me take stock of possible drastic changes.  It all began early last Thursday morning.  It became a morning that made me instantaneously know that life with Joe was changing at that very moment.  I normally find and pick out his clothing each morning so that I'm assured he won't go out into the world looking like some homeless guy off the street.  Lately it seems as though it's become more than picking out the clothes, but now helping him to dress more often.  He seems to have no strength or energy to do that recently.  Thursday was one of those days.  I found him a shirt, his pants, his special diabetic socks and laid them all on the dining room table.  For the sake of time, I went ahead and helped him dress - even zipping up his jeans and fastening his belt.  Just before hopping into the shower, I heard him say to me "You'll have to help me with my shoes".  "Why"?, I asked.  And in his quiet voice he said, "I can't remember how to put on my shoes."

Then yesterday when I delivered him home from dialysis, I came into the house to use the bathroom.  Imagine my shock and frustration when I discovered that he'd spilt a large quantity of copper sulfate all over the bathroom floor, the toilet, the rugs - everywhere possible while trying to pour it into the toilet.  And he left it there.  He had mentioned to our landlord sometime in the recent past that we needed something to add to our toilet to keep it unclogged.  Apparently the landlord had brought some over and Joe thought it necessary to add not a little to the toilet, but the entire amount.  In doing so, he had made this unbelievable mess.  I don't think his mind comprehended what he had done and the consequence of my reaction upon finding this.  I am only human, was in a rush to get back to the office, still needed to use the bathroom, but first I had to clean up this colossal mess so I was very upset and set off on a litany of unrepeatable one-sided conversation.  This is just the latest example of him "helping" and it causing me to do clean-up.

I've decided it has become a necessary evil to start keeping an account of things that are happening with Joe.  I know that I'll most likely be bouncing back and forth and around to do this, but I feel quite certain that somewhere in the future this will benefit either him or me or the both of us.

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Note to self:  No more whole chicken for Joe.  He couldn't figure out how to get the grilled chicken off the bones last night at dinner.  So, I came and picked the chicken off for him.

Also, Joe has started experiencing problems when it comes to swallowing - even water.  It tends to make him cough as though he's choking.