Coping with a loved one’s memory loss in God’s strength. by Alma Barkman
As I stopped the car in front of the motel, my husband asked, “Why are you stopping?”
“Because we’ve driven all day and it’s time to take a break,” I replied, rather puzzled by his question. We had made this fourteen hundred-mile trip to see our children many times in the past, and he was familiar with our routine: Get up early, drive until suppertime, then book into a motel.
Indignation
“Just why would we stop at a motel when we’re only two hours from home?” His tone was indignant.
“But we’re at least seven hours from home!” I exclaimed. “I can’t possibly drive that much longer.”
He insisted.
Reluctantly, I nosed the car back onto the highway. What now? He seems so strangely confused. Maybe if I drive to the next town. . . .
Anger
For the next hour I tried reasoning with my husband, but to no avail. When I tried to stop, he became angry and upset. “But I have to fill the car with gas,” I protested.
“Not when we’re only an hour from home!”
Disoriented
Despite his vehement protests, I pulled into a service station. Pleading with him to spend the night at a nearby motel was useless. I drove on.
It became more and more obvious that my husband was completely disoriented. Has he suffered a stroke? The verbal abuse he kept heaping upon me was out of character for him. What should I do? Panic mixed with fatigue welled up within me.
Torn emotions
We were in an isolated area where there was no hospital along our route in either direction. I kept driving toward home while his constant sarcasm bit into my emotions and tore them to shreds. My husband was determined I was going the wrong direction, that I was not on the right highway, that I should turn left at every minor intersection. I tried pointing out various landmarks, but nothing was familiar to him.
Lord, please give me strength, I prayed silently. It’s raining now. I’m upset and terribly tired, but there seems to be no recourse but to keep going.
Safe at home
After driving for nearly seventeen hours, we neared the outskirts of our city around midnight. My husband suddenly recognized our surroundings and became his old familiar self. Relieved to be home but utterly exhausted, I collapsed into bed.
When we awoke the next morning, it was as if nothing had happened. My husband’s mind was clear, but he recalled nothing about the state of his confusion the day before.
Diagnosis
Nevertheless I made an appointment with our family doctor, who confirmed what I already suspected: My husband had experienced the first episode of senile cognizant impairment, and it would only worsen and become more frequent with age.
And so it did.
At times he was in outright denial, while I was often in emotional turmoil. He forgot when I told him family news and then accused me of withholding information.
Conviction
At one point I decided, OK, from now on I won’t even bother telling him. But the Spirit of God reminded me, “Do not lie to each other” (Colossians 3:9, NIV).
Am I not committing the sin of omission? We had always communicated openly, so I continued to share with my husband all the tidbits that were of interest to him, whether he remembered them or not. And then I prayed for patience when he asked the same questions repeatedly.
Frustration
The day he expressed total frustration in handling our banking affairs, I lost my cool (not the first time). “Then let me do it!” My tone was overly brusque.
“Would you mind?” The quiver in his lower lip convicted me of my lack of compassion, and I quickly apologized. Despite my writing everything down so he could review the figures, however, he occasionally expressed utter mistrust in how I managed our finances.
I felt resentment rise and wanted to lash out in anger, “Have I not accounted for every last penny I’ve spent ever since we were married?” Hours later, my husband’s unfounded accusations would still pain my heart, though he’d forgotten all about it.
Plus and minuses
If there was one bright spot regarding his memory loss, it was that he kept short accounts because he couldn’t remember to hold a grudge.
I, on the other hand, still struggled to dismiss his unwarranted claims that I had lost his wallet, misplaced his keys, or hidden his socks somewhere. I would silently pray, Lord, these are such trivial accusations compared to those leveled at You. Even if it happens over and over again, help me forgive as You forgave. He can’t help himself.
Resentment
Not that his memory loss was constant. It usually cropped up only when he was overtired or when I was already feeling overtaxed with extra responsibilities.
Maintaining a rather humdrum routine to prevent further confusion on his part sometimes led to resentment on mine. I would have liked to travel as we once did, but the stress on both of us was too great. I would have enjoyed entertaining friends, but my husband’s state of confusion made conversation awkward for all of us. I would have liked to attend concerts, but his attention span was too short.
He did, however, enjoy his vast collection of sacred music, which invariably had a calming effect when he became disturbed.
Struggle with servanthood
The biggest problem I faced was adopting a constant spirit of servanthood, which was being thoroughly tested, day in and day out.
It reminded me of when I used to cope with toddlers in the house. They brought forth new challenges every single day, whether at mealtime, bedtime, or playtime. Dealing with my husband’s dementia was at times like dealing with a two-year-old. He would throw a temper tantrum at the slightest provocation, perhaps when I inadvertently scrambled the pages of the newspaper that he didn’t read anyway.
At other times my husband was like a four-year-old, paranoid that a stranger might be sleeping in the spare room — to him, a dark and foreboding place. He could be fiercely strong-willed one minute and calling for me to help him put on his socks the next.
Compassionate heart
Determined to be independent, regardless of whether it was safe or not, made it difficult to hire help with the yard in summer and blowing snow in winter. My husband was sometimes testy with those who came, resenting their “intrusion.”
During that difficult time, God reminded me often that a compassionate heart is the basis for bearing with one another’s infirmities, some of which I was beginning to recognize in myself. Ephesians 4:32 kept me on course: “And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you” (NKJV).
Beginning of the end
I had cared for my husband five years while his dementia gradually worsened. Four months before his death, he was admitted to a hospital.
I remember coming home that day. When I saw his old garden clothes in the back closet, I collapsed into my son’s arms and wept, knowing that this was the beginning of the end.
Tears
About three months after he’d been admitted to hospital, I was asked to sign the paper paneling him for a nursing home. Despite authoring nine books and publishing hundreds of articles, putting my signature on that consent form was the most difficult line I have ever written.
I doubt if any divorce papers, or even death certificates, have ever been dampened with so many kinds of tears — tears of regret, of doubt, of loss, of anguish, of betrayal, of separation. I felt as though I were abandoning him.
Sorrow and relief
And then, unexpectedly, my husband passed away.
His death brought mixed feelings of sorrow and relief. Yes, he was gone, but the assurance that he was a strong Christian gave me peace that I would see him again in eternity. There would be no more daily trips to visit him in the hospital, no more fretting as he suffered.
Carrying on
An overwhelming weariness overtook me. After the funeral, it seemed I slept for days.
I was so grateful for the support of family and church friends, but now I had to carry on. This was made much easier because my husband and I had shared responsibilities in every sense of the word. I was familiar with financial and business matters.
The emotional loss sometimes brought me to tears, but as time went on, crying was replaced with consolation. And God has been true to His promise: “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5, KJV). I know I will make it with Him as my comfort and guide.
Alma Barkman has authored nine inspirational books, including Peeking Through the Knothole, Everyday Moments with God, and Two Old Goats and One Good Shepherd. She was also a contributing writer for Daily Guideposts and has had numerous articles and poems published in a wide variety of Christian and secular publications. Alma lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba.