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Blogs by Jerry P. Bolton
I Felt Helpless 1/6/2014 1:20:07 PM
A few words about the day my world began to fall apart. My world started falling apart on Christmas Day, 2008. My wife, Dottie, who had been with me for thirty-five years suddenly, began to deteriorate, both mentally and physically. No need for me to go into what happened except to say that is was as much a surprise to me as if she'd sprouted wings and flew out the window. Yes, maybe I had "seen" certain things over the last couple of years, but I assumed it was merely the fact that she was old; she was seventy-five, the same age as I now am. But what happened that Christmas Day and since then was so very alien to me that even as I write this I can barely believe life as we both know it is done with.
When we become old we all think we understand what is ahead for us. We think in our muddled thoughts about all the ways we might end our lives, and one and all of us, dread the two words . . . Nursing Home. Some of us, understanding our predicament, DO let the idea that we may end our lives in such a place, but we shove it aside quickly. I know I did, and I assume Dottie did also. We never talked about that part of our life, the dying part. I suppose we thought if we didn't talk about it, it just wouldn't happen.
Life, and death, has a nasty habit of kicking us in the teeth. By then we are in denial. We see what is directly in our future, and we again, shove it aside, praying (if we are praying people) a miracle will happen and we will be spared. We seldom are, and just because modern medicine keeps us alive much longer than it used to, the fact is that eventually just run out of time. This is what has happened to Dottie.
Dottie had to go into the hospital. I was there with her when her doctor walked into the room. He wanted to know if she would be able to go home when she was released. The doctor was staring at me, and with the driest mouth I believe I have ever had, I shook my head and squeaked out, "No, I cannot handle her, I'm sorry, but I just can't do it. She falls and she has become so heavy I can’t pick her up." The doctor nodded his head, knowing about her mental condition which was the real reason I could not deal with her at home. Then he asked Dottie "In that case, Mrs. Bolton, would you consider going to a Nursing Home?" She shook her head and said, "No."
So. There we were. I sat home writing this down with the heaviest heart I believe I’ve ever had. Dottie was lying in that Nursing Home thinking I had thrown her away. I went there every day to see if she had what she needed and if she was being treated right. I was there today, as usual, and as I bent to kiss her, I said, "I'm so sorry I am not able to take care of you." She refused my offered kiss. I can't really blame her. I feel like a failure concerning this and a few other things in my life. Something happened, something so simple happened after I got home, something which happened every day, but it struck me so hard the tears came and I cried my guts out.
I didn’t know what was going to happen. I could only play it day by day. I did know that neither of our lives would ever be the same again.
