For some reason I felt I should post this today. Don't ask why, I don't know. Just something inside me says, 'do it'.
An excerpt from 'Just a Word'.
I see terror on her face and it reminds me of my panic attacks. I stay close to her, letting her know she’s not alone. I’ll always be there for her. I’m no doctor, but I know what she feels, I’m living with her 24/7. She’s never out of sight.
Lately she doesn’t want to come to the table to eat. So I bribe her, saying, “No chocolate pudding or chocalotta ice cream if you don’t finish your dinner.” Like raising my children. She likes sweets all the time; yet when she was well, she rarely ate them, except ice cream. The brain has to be craving sugar for a reason. I buy a juicer, make fresh vegetable and fruit juices, because a man on TV says it will make the body strong and healthy.
So many chores to do: clean the house, paper work, trying to keep her clean. She changes clothes in the middle of the night, putting clothes on top of clothes. I sleep with her, rubbing her arm, to calm her. Around two in the morning, she stirs, fiddling with her clothes. I leave, and go to my room for rest. The burglar alarm is set. She can’t go out without me hearing. I need sleep if I’m going to care for her. Her hair is falling out for no obvious reason, black circles are under her eyes. She doesn’t yawn anymore when she’s tired. Strange, and I think and wonder if other victims do this? The doctors have no answers. I wish something else would show in tests. I wish she had cancer instead of this disease of losing her mind. She’s sliding fast, like a runaway train. There’s no stopping it. I hate this disease. All I want to do is comfort her.