Cornflakes in the deep freeze
Recently, we received a beautiful love letter from a man about his wife. David has kindly agreed to share his story with you, and we hope that you enjoy it as much as we did.
“In my 70’s I was lucky to find a lady friend from 35 years earlier who became my partner and eventually my wife. We shared a wonderful, joyful and unconditional love. It is truly fabulous to find your life’s partner late in life, when together we had the time and the energy to travel, to enjoy adventures both here and overseas and to devote to each other and our love.
But then, about five years ago Helen’s family doctor undertook tests, including a brain scan. He told us sadly that Helen had Alzheimer’s. There was no cure, and she would slowly worsen until – what? He could not tell me, and neither could anybody else I asked. But life went on, there seemed to be no effects at that stage, except I became aware of minor memory lapses.
I became Helen’s carer. The condition developed slowly. At first it was memory loss about little things. Then more significant things, until she could not remember the answer to a question and would ask it again, and again, and again until I would lose patience.
Helen loved words, doing crosswords and devouring the daily newspaper. But that fell away, soon she could no longer write, let alone sign her name. The phone became too difficult to operate, also the TV remote, she could no longer find the correct word to express her thoughts, so she spent time just enjoying a sunny day.
The local Alzheimers Otago group held a monthly meeting for carers, and this proved very helpful. About 10 of us would sit around for an hour and swap stories, often hilarious, some sad, and lots of advice and subterfuges. I had to give up work and several interests. I had loved my part time job as a heritage tourist guide, but Helen needed me more, and eventually I could not get away for even a half hour or she would become distressed.
Meal preparation became a treasure hunt, cornflakes in the deep freeze, jam in the cutlery drawer. Setting the table I had to surreptitiously move the cutlery to its right place, as neither of us were left-handed nor needed two forks! I realised Helen was now totally dependent on me, I had mainly lost the wonderful woman I had found just 15 years ago.
Music was a winner. Helen loved DVDs by Andre Rieux and his orchestra. The combination of light, cheerful music with colourful onscreen action, humorous skits, dinner jacketed men and ball gowned women playing their instruments entranced Helen. We built up a small library, but her memory loss meant each replay, again and again and again, was fresh and new for her.
Our social life dwindled away. Friends remained friends, despite forgotten names, but when both parties are uncomfortable, you lose touch, and it becomes too hard. We had to move house, to a small cottage, very comfortable for two, but not for entertaining. I became quite lonely, an unexpected problem. I had always been a fitness bloke, so we went for walks whenever possible. Helen’s gregarious nature remained, she would greet most men, woman, children and dogs as we walked arm in arm, increasingly slowly on the promenade or the beach.
The families and I had talked occasionally about a care home, but I resisted this as Helen would have hated it, and I thought I could continue with the present regime, despite Helen steadily worsening. I was getting some family supported respite time, a few days several times a year, and thought that was sufficient. Both of us were now going weekly to special age care groups meetings, so there was some social contact.
Then fate intervened. We both contracted Covid, early last November. I had a heart condition and collapsed every time I stood up, dangerous to me and others. Helen could not be left alone, so she went to her daughter’s home for a day, and then we both finished up in the hospital’s one Covid ward. Helen caused great mirth for the staff as she insisted I join her in bed as we did at home! Why not? We’re married!
She lost her appetite and would not eat or drink, so she deteriorated physically. Nothing the staff, or I or other family members could do to persuade her to take sustenance. Further assessment and medical checks, the hospital could not continue to keep her, so we were able to arrange for her to stay at the Monticello Veterans Home and Hospital.
The Monticello staff were wonderful. I am for ever grateful that they made Helen’s last few weeks as comfortable as possible and cared for me and the family as well.
The daily walks, now up and down the Monticello corridors became shorter and shorter. Came New Year and it was clear Helen was on her last journey. Dementia was slowly shutting down her body functions. We decided to set up a vigil so there was always family with her. The girls took the day shift, and I slept on the floor in her room each night. The night staff tried to make me as comfortable as possible. With her family around her, Helen died on January 6th. We had a fitting funeral a few days later, and I travelled the last few kilometres with my Helen, from the Funeral parlour to the Crematorium.”
David Tucker
March 2024