LAUREL CREEK

LAUREL CREEK
On a personal level, I have lost my wife of nearly 65 years. A couple of years ago, the Kaiser Neurologist in Vallejo, diagnosed Marie’s forgetfulness as Alzheimer dementia. He based his decision on the MRI scan of her brain. He showed my three daughters and me, the imagery from the scan. He pointed out the frontal cortex, and explained that 50% of the cells had been destroyed. While I wasn’t surprised by his pronouncement, I was deeply wounded. My emotions were similar to those involved in grieving for the death of a loved one.
I am fortunate to be able to visit her, at Laurel Creek, twice a day. Yet, it is very difficult when I see her. Dementia is a beastly illness. It strips the person of all their humanness. I want to fix her failing mind, and restore it to the sharpness it had when she was playing bridge; when we were traveling and when she was participating in intelligent conversations. But such repair is not to be. I have read, and studied, a lot, about Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia. While I understand the process, it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
We were together here at Quail Creek for a year. Management authorized a cut-out in the common wall, so that Marie and I could each have our own apartment - living room, bed room and bath. But then, the stress of her additional care and needs, became too much. We moved her to the nearby Laurel Creek Health Center.
At first, I kept second guessing my decision on moving Marie to the skilled nursing facility, (still on campus) from our assisted living setup here at Quail Creek. I had a guilty conscience - even after I analyzed the result. I decided that she was doing better there, than here. But, it didn’t seem to help. I asked the nurse here why she thought that was. The nurse said “It was because there was a different environment over there.” I finally resolved my dilemma, and accepted the status quo. I reasoned that she is getting the best care that money can buy - at $232 a day!
Yesterday, when I visited her, we greeted each other with our usual kiss. But, this time it was different. I had the same thrill that I remember having after out first date on May 20, 1944. It was a tremendous uplifting feeling. I almost felt like “All is well, once again”. Now, I have reconciled my decision. While she doesn’t remember what she had for lunch - or even if she had lunch - she still calls me “Ray”.
RCL - 7/29/09.