I'm Not in His Body

I haven’t been able to blog because I’m being spoiled having a daughter here for a weekend visit. We’re staying up late at night and jabbering away just like in the old days. Plus I get to sing lullabies to put two fabulous grandsons to sleep. It’s always guaranteed to work. They crash in a hurry so they don’t have to listen to my off key warbles. I’m sure my blogs in the next few days will be filled with tidbits about the past 48 hours, but I need to first tell you about something that has kind of haunted me for the last day.

Last night, a tired Bob and I were leaving a surprise birthday party for my brother-in-law. Chris had walked ahead with the boys and we slowly ambled to the car. It had been a long busy day, trying to fill every spare second with special memories for my grandkids. We love every second of the hubbub and wouldn’t change a thing, but we are rather pooped, as we lay sprawled on the couch when they leave.

Bob had a cruddy (that’s the correct medical terminology to depict the condition) start of the day. He generally rises early and has time to just veg with Einstein as he dabbles away on the computer. After a morning shower, he takes the pooch for a morning stroll around the block. Yesterday morning, things did not go according to plan.

He gave me a call during his trek. His steps were quickly faltering and he was getting that kind of woozy feeling that lets him know that Lewy Bodies Dementia is about to strike. Stephanie first ran out in search of her Poppy, and I clambered into the last car in line as I began my rescue search. There was nothing drastic or unique about these proceedings, and we just continued on with our day.

My husband rested most of the day but joined us for a celebratory lunch with our kids and evening birthday extravaganza. He squeezed in some extra naps because his somnolence was not cooperating. Enough with that; I just needed to describe the setting.

As Bob and I slowly strolled to our car last night, I commended him for doing so great with such a loud and busy day. He looked at me in total shock as he disagreed with any positive compliments about his behavior. I once again told him that he had done great. That’s when he responded to me in five words that will haunt me for years to come. He quietly corrected me. “You’re not in my body!” He was totally right. It instantaneously shut me right up. He didn’t scold or argue or demand correction. He just stopped me with the honesty of our new lives with LBD. He was right. I’m not in his body.

Tears welled up but didn’t fall as I replayed his simple remark. LBD has definitely changed our roles in life. It’s almost like Einstein as he tugs and fights with a new bone. LBD wants to ravage my husband, and there is not one damn thing that I can do about it. I don’t know how he feels. I’m not in his body. I can’t imagine what life must be like as distant thunder threatens an upcoming storm. I’m not in his body.

Oh, I’m trying very hard to learn about this condition and have time for just the two of us. I actually sit and stare at him as he sits and works at his computer. I want to keep my Bobby. And he wants to stay. But, he can’t.

“Welcome to LBD!” my brain screamed back at me. All your future dreams of long worldwide adventures will have to be modified. As much as I try, I need to be reminded that his horror is real. I’m not in his body! Oh Lord, help us! I so much want our life to be good.

God Uses Our Love to Prove that Life is Good

        - I’ve had 23 fabulous years with the man of my dreams, and LBD won’t rob us of all our future aspirations. For better or worse, we’ll fight this battle – together!

For more information, check out www.lbda.org