I Miss A Real Wife

Bill_2001

Did that title grab your attention? This will be a somewhat long, therapeutic post.

I have been married to my dear wife for 26 years, with nearly seven of those years in the dementia/caregiving scenario. Fully one quarter of my marriage has been overshadowed by dementia. I miss having a real wife. We had just 19 years together unaffected by dementia. I envy those of you who enjoyed 30, 40, 50 years inside a real marriage. I suppose I can never have that – it is too late in the game of life. Sigh. You are cordially invited to my pity-party here tonight.

Please bear with me, as I am writing this from a husband’s point-of-view, and my wife had been a very traditional, old-fashioned American wife. She loved cooking, and all things related to taking care of our home. She was never happier than when she was trying out a new recipe, with cookbooks and ingredients spread out in every corner of our kitchen. The wonderful smell of frying and baking wafting from the kitchen is still one of my fondest memories. It came and went so fast.

I do the cooking now and occasionally the aroma emanating from the kitchen is tolerable. But I am no match for my wife: I swear she could come up with a four-course dinner when the pantry looked empty to me. That has always been one of life’s biggest mysteries.

I miss intimacy. Not just sex, but all of the other little things couples do to signal their love for each other. A glance, a special wink, a pat on the rear. My wife no longer does anything to indicate her love for me. Who is this woman sharing our home together? And yes, I miss the love-making. I am relatively young, and occasional diagnostics indicate that my systems are still functional. All dressed up and no place to go. How long is a husband supposed to go without? Is seven years a long enough celibacy sentence? I may never find out.

The stark reality is that I feel that I will never be truly happy again. Once my dear wife has departed this earth, I have written off marriage and relationships forever. I will not take the risk of ending up a long-term caregiver again. I did the math, and it is depressing. I am still young enough to live a real life again, but I am just too old to start over with dating, courting, and all of the games that go into trying for marriage again. What a hassle. I really don’t want to deal with the complications of merging lives again. I just do not see how there will ever be another woman to love me, cook for me, and generally provide the cozy, loving home that my dear traditional wife did. Sorry ladies, but my wife was the best and I cannot see opening up my life to another woman ever again. And then there are the complications: Another woman will most likely have grown kids, siblings, and everyone else chiming in telling her not to get mixed up with a widower like me. “He will endlessly compare you to his late wife,” they will tell her. And they would be right.

I have my caregiving duties now. When (or if) the time comes when I am free again, I will have the specter of loneliness and chastity. Yes, that is a thing when you are as young as I am and still have urges and needs. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a normal, healthy, all-American guy.

My friends and family liken this to when they take care of their spouse during a cold or flu. Give me a break – not even close! A cold or flu does not cause your spouse to become a zombie, last for years, and carry a death sentence. And you can still have a conversation with an actual lucid person during a cold or flu. The helpful phone calls, the visits, and well-wishing have all dropped off a cliff, as they always do in summer. (God I hate summer now.) Family and friends are traveling and having fun, and cannot be bothered with my whining during the summer months. Curse summer! I guess they will check on me in October. Here in the Midwest, I now welcome winter with open arms. Everyone else will then be just as stuck as I am, and I feel as if I am not missing much. Come on winter!

My wife is a pleasant person most of the time, and I realize that is a real blessing. I have no idea how some of you handle aggression or resistance. My heart goes out especially to the wives on here dealing with a dementia-afflicted husband. Men with dementia seem to have more behavior issues than women, but I am sure this is just anecdotal and not scientific.

I do have short moments of pleasure: When I have cooked a successful dinner and my wife actually eats it, or when we are in the middle of a music-listening session. Movie night is pleasant, even though I know she does not understand the plot. (Music does not have this problem. Music is magic.) Car rides are pleasant. I remember once reading that a car ride for a dementia patient is never a waste of gas. Truer words have never been spoken. I may have cracked the code on that one: We are usually listening to music in the car (magic!), she is in a controlled environment, and there is plenty to look at.

Short moments of pleasure, good as they are, are no substitute for true marital joy, something that I am never going to have again. (Sorry, but this is my pity-party.) Just being with a woman I love, and who loves me in return, is now a long-ago memory. This October will mark seven years since this dementia journey began, and the longer it persists, the more foreign the concept of a normal, loving wife becomes. I do not even dream about starting another life anymore, I just dream of boarding an airplane and flying somewhere, anywhere, alone. No nonsense babbling, no diapers to change, no responsibilities, not a care in the world.

That is my current vision of joy, and that may be the very best I can hope for.

Ed1937

Bill, you said it all. I feel so bad for those of you who are dealing with early onset. EO has it's own set of problems, but none of it is good. There is never anything wrong with a pity party.

Just Bill

Rage on Bill. I truly hope getting that all off your chest makes you feel better. I read the whole thing and I feel your pain. Tomorrow is a new day.

Crushed

DW and I used to joke that the only thing traditional about her was her underwear.  
She was a genius and I supported her ambitions every way I could.  She was a public servant and never made the big money her brains and effort would have earned her elsewhere.  And she worked hard and long. In the year 2000 on our 25th anniversary we made a plan and pact that she would retire at 60  in 2012 and we would enjoy the retirement we had planned and the time together we had put off.  On our 35th anniversary in 2010 We could see the end of the work road and the golden years
 
Then MCI and EOAD and it all went up in smoke .

We grabbed 6 years of genuine pleasure as her brain deteriorated.  Finally there was almost nothing left and she went into memory care in 2017.
I miss her so much 

Scooterr

Bill thanks for the invite to the pity-party and as always very well written. I feel your pain and totally understand. Like you I also hate summer now. We always had family vacations this time a year, in fact our kids are leaving next week for the beach, but not DW and myself. We're here living in the deluge of dementia. I also miss the intimacy with my DW, and the conversating we once had. Yes I miss so much the love we  had shared together, and now I don't even know what to call it. I know I still love her, but I just wonder if she knows what love is anymore. It's ok to have pity parties that's why we're here. I feel the need for my own everyday. (Invites go out soon.) Thanks for sharing.

jmlarue

I feel exactly as you do about finding love the second time around. I am entirely content with the prospect of living alone to my end of days. That doesn't mean that I won't jump at a dating opportunity or even an uncommitted relationship with benefits (i,e. sex). But (and this is a big but), I have vowed that I will never again take on the role of wife, chief cook, housekeeper or caretaker for another man. No one will be putting their toothbrush in my bathroom or their slippers under my bed and I won't hesitate to say so, if asked. 

Here's the thing, Bill. None of us can predict the future. There's no way to know (particularly at your age) that a second chance at love and a long happy marriage won't come your way. There's also no guarantee that your rational mind will over-rule the desires of your heart if that time comes. Perhaps, the lessons learned throughout the dementia experience can help devise a safe haven for us for a second time around. Things like: prenuptial agreements, uncontestable wills, medical pre-directives, long-term care insurance, and spouses keeping some assets totally separate from the marriage estate. This dementia journey would have been so very different if we had taken care of these things long before they were necessary. I certainly won't make that mistake again. I imagine you won't either.

MaryG123

Thanks for the party invite Bill.  I have nothing to say except “I hear you.”  Sad, sad, sad.

Stuck in the middle

I know this doesn't have to be rational, but I can't get away from the contradiction between "I miss my wife" and "I'm never going to try to have a wife again."

Remember "Victor/Victoria" when the straight woman tells the gay man "I'll bet a good woman could change your mind" and he responds "I'll bet a good woman could change yours, too."

Here's to good women!  There are 4 billion women on this planet, and I refuse to believe my wife is the only one worth having.

rlpete

Bill, I can relate so much to your post. We are in our mid 60’s and while my wife and I can still do some activities, it is not the same and it never will be. I miss those days. Things were so good. Now my biggest hope in life is to outlive her so I can care for her. I have no idea what I will do when she is gone but I know I will have done my best for her. It makes me sad. Take care.

DJnAZ

Well said, Bill. I totally agree. As someone on this forum wrote in a recent post, I love my wife for who she was and who she is and I always will. However, I love the person I've known for 33 years. And I always will. But I don't have a wife any more since the living hell that is dementia took her from me.

RobertsBrown

Hi Bill,

The similarities in our situation and perceptions are freakish.  I get that we are all more alike than different, and I understand statistics.  Still, we are on the same darn* timeline.

I still like summer best, but here in the Pacfic Northwest summer is the only season that isn't a general rain fest.  For 9 months out of the year, we need dog towels and outside shoes.

One unsaid thing is the feeling that I still have *some* appeal to the opposite sex, but that window is closing fast, and will likely shut for good long before I am *free* again, whatever that may mean.

It's like my shirttail is caught in the machine that will surely grind my bones, and I can watch every glorious moment along the way.  Yay!

DrinaJGB

I have been the parent to my DH since brain injury in 2010. I used to miss all of those things and raged against the injustice of what has happened. Now after 12 years I have basically walled myself off as a defense mechanism.I can no longer even imagine intimacy with him---it would seem almost incestuous, and I am no longer attracted to him. SO---I live a completely celibate life with no intimacy whatsoever which I have grown accustomed to. I am on automatic pilot 24/7 which in reality is a blessing in disguise because I no longer focus on all of the loss--I merely do one thing after another year after year with no end in sight.

  This week marked 41 years together. What did we do? I got him a card and he drew me a "card" with the exact same heart that all of the other "cards" from him have had. I am certain some here would say that is more than they get ever, and so true, however, 12 years of this is a very long time to be invisible and forgotten.

Berryette

I am 58 and DH is 80.  Our 32nd anniversary was last week.  I told him 3 times during the day and each time it was a surprise.  The sad thing is he never acknowledged our anniversary before dementia took his memory- so he was actually more excited about it this year than ever before.  He actually said he couldnt imagine being alone- when thru all our years together he made it quite clear that he didnt need me or anyone else.  So maybe I should be thanking a disease called dementia.  Now I am having a pity party!

sandwichone123

Bill, I agree with much of what you've said. My dh and I have been married just over five years, and I also look at all these happy, long-term couples with green eyes, even if ended too soon for them too. But I think there is a space between loneliness and marriage that can be lovely. For those of you older men, you are *always* attractive to at least a 15-year age span of women, and even if you don't want to commit, you can have endless first and second dates or ladies cooking for you.

Life is not all or nothing, and neither is companionship.