I moved DW to memory care (part 2)

So, that's the background. All of our family and friends were supportive of placing DW in MC, even urging me to do so, reminding me that I had to take care of myself. The conundrum for me was, how was I going to get her in the door? How was I going to get her things to the MC facility? One suggestion was to say her doctor said she needed to be in rehab for awhile. I knew that would never fly. DW would ask, "Which doctor?", "What's the rehab for?", and, most difficult, "Why didn't the doctor talk to me directly?" DW had grown very sensitive about respecting her personhood.

Instead, the ruse I settled on was to say we were going to a "resort" for a few days. She had been grousing that she wanted to do different things, rather than be at home all the time. She was unhappy cleaning the dishes after our meals (that I prepared). She was tired of making the bed or doing laundry. I told her the place we're going to would take care of all that for her. I told her about this on Saturday morning. We packed bags (me, too) on Sunday night, and we went to the "resort" on Monday morning.

I told DW we had a check-in time of 10:00 as a way of forcing her to keep moving in the morning. I told the MC staff that I would arrive in a red car. They should greet us at the curb and take DW's bag. I would say I was going to park the car while they went inside. And I drove home (about 1/2 hour). Much to my relief, that worked out well. Jen was there, a familiar face, which probably put DW at ease.

It's been less than a week. The morning of Day 1 went pretty well, DW was kept busy. In the afternoon she wasn't kept as busy, and she was starting to ask where I was. Fortunately, the folks at the MC facility are real pros and old hands at this, and they were able to deflect and re-engage. Apparently she didn't eat much for dinner, but she did sleep reasonably well, and she ate her meals on Day 2. In the afternoon she was really into balloon volleyball (she's always been athletic), but eventually she tired of that. But she's starting to meet people and develop friends, and I think she will adapt in a few days.

Now, about my reaction. I actually feel relieved, elated, maybe exuberant (for now). I think I compartmentalized my feelings and focused on the mechanics of caring for DW. Leaving DW at MC reminded me of the day I left the Army base where I was stationed and was once again a PFC (proud f*cking civilian). I could breathe again. I could plan again. I could choose again. I have free time again without distractions.

I know DW's absence will kick in at some point, but, really, for years she hasn't been the woman I married. We could not have any kind of substantive conversation. It's sobering to realize DW will never see our house again. I don't feel guilty but, rather, feel like I made a good choice for both of us. I know the pros will take good care of her, better than I could. I know a topic in this discussion group has been, "When is it time to move my LO to MC?" I don't have a general answer, but I know it was time for us. I don't think I could have managed the final week if I didn't know DW would enter MC on Monday. As her condition has deteriorated, it had become that stressful for me.

While I don't feel guilty, there is a part of me that feels like I'm discarding DW, tucking her away somewhere, institutionalizing her. And that's true in a sense. But moving her to MC is compassionate for her and me.

Strangely enough, through this whole journey, I've been relatively lucky. DW has stayed cheerful for the most part. She was never aggressive or violent. She only had one minor wandering incident. She had several got-lost incidents, one of them pretty serious and scary. I knew she had left the house with the dog, and she got confused and lost her way.

Stopping driving was never an issue. She just stopped of her own accord and implicitly let me do the driving. We still have "her" car, and she would often ask whether it was in the garage. I never had to hide the keys, which remained hanging on a hook near the door. The truth is, I'm not sure she would have known how to start the car at this point, and, if she succeeded, she would probably stop at the end of the driveway, unsure where to go.

These are things I won't miss:

• playing "treasure hunt" for glasses and other misplaced objects
• objects not where I left them
• paranoia when DW couldn't find something she misplaced and assumed someone took it
• the endless repetitive questions
• the horrible disorganization of DW's clothing, desk, etc.
• her asking "What are we doing today?"

I learned to pick my battles and not push back on some of DW's odd behaviors: washing the dishes by hand and not using the dishwasher; peeling labels off packages that were going to be recycled anyway; cutting up paper into tiny pieces that I would have recycled whole; using a lot of paper towels to dry dishes and pans, rather than use a dish towel.