It was the little things I've noticed over the past year regarding Truett's dementia.
Since I took Truett out to lunch daily, I noticed my husband had changed his eating patterns. Before, he would take a bite of meat, a bite of mac 'n cheese, a bite of asparagus, etc. But that changed. He had begun to focus on his plate of food and ate all of one vegetable until it was gone. Then on to the next vegetable until it was gone. Lastly, the meat. Some people do that naturally, but it wasn't Truett's pattern of eating.
It was the little things. We had stopped talking. If I elaborated on a subject, it frustrated him. The only things he asked about was, "Is it Tuesday? Who's picking me up?" That refers to the wonderful Lion Club friends who so diligently drove to Fort White, took my husband to meetings, and brought him home. Mom and I celebrated Tuesday nights with take out food, Judge Judy, Two and a Half Men, and NCIS! Mom and I reveled in our time.
As the months wore on, it was the little things I noticed. Increased aggitation, especially toward me. Cussing at me, threatening me. Every morning I would wake up, look to the Heavens, and ask God to bless our family. Every evening, the sundowner syndrome set in. Right as I cooked supper. "What are you doing?" I told him I was cooking supper. I would leave the room and he would call my name again. Back and forth. Back and forth. At night I was so exhausted I could barely move. Cleaning the kitchen after dinner was shelved to the next day.
It was the little things. Eventually, Truett refused to brush his teeth or put off taking a shower. I was micro-managing his life up until March 16, 2013. "What do I do now?" he would ask. And then I would begin: "Stand up. Sit down. Put your deodorant on (but he couldn't even do that anymore). Brush your hair (He did half of his hair and I did the other half). Go to the living room and wait for me." In the meantime, his impatience was unbearable. "Hurry! Hurry!" My friends noticed my hands shook constantly and Clay questioned if I had had too much coffee.
It was the little things. Making excues when he went to town meetings. "I don't feel well" or "My hearing aide batteries aren't working." But, the other councilmen guided him through the meetings; and I thank you, Fort White Town Council.
It was the little things. Truett calling our grandchildren by the wrong names. Calling them by our children's names. Every day became "Thursday". "Is it Thursday?" he would ask. "No, Truett. It's Saturday.
Tomorrow is Easter. This is the first Easter dinner I have not hosted since our grandchildren were born. Clay and I are going to Merry Jennifer's for Easter dinner. Then Clay and I will visit Truett. I don't mean for this to be sad. It's not. It is reality.
The little things finally added up in our life because we paid attention.
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