I don’t get mad anymore. If you remember one of my first blog posts you’ll remember the funny one about the hose. Well, that was then and this is now. Jerry’s dementia has reached the point where I really realize how far he has progressed. I am just so greatful that I've got so many friends who seem to understand and who can sense his needs at times. Not that I haven’t known that for quite some time of his decline, but most of the time, I felt he still was able to understand or “be there” with me a lot of the time. In the past, I could classify our days as good days and bad days. Hopefully, there would be more good days than bad. Then, it moved to more good hours than bad. Now, I think he’s about the same most of the time. It’s not good, nor bad. It’s just the way it is.

Does that make sense?

I find that I really can’t get mad or frustrated at him. Although his large motor skills are pretty good, very few things that require any type of thought process is he able to do. His task level has been pretty much reduced to things that have been automatically engrained in him. For instance, he can't cut his food, but he can still ride his bike. (You know they say, you never forget how to ride a bike. That's so true!)

We had a full day today. Tonight, when I went to bed, I found him asleep all curled up on top of the covers. Our bed is a king and it has one of those pillow top mattresses that you sink into. He looked so small and it reminded me of how this disease is taking its toll. There can be nothing but compassion for him or anyone else who suffers from this.

It’s not about me anymore.