The Long Quiet

Dear Friends,

I am quickly approaching ten years as a caregiver for my dear wife with late Stage 6 dementia. Alzheimer’s and dementia have long been known as The Long Goodbye because of the painfully long duration of the disease. No one knows how long their journey as a caregiver will go on, but I never imagined myself being locked into it for a decade.

Looking back, my long journey as a caregiver has gone through several phases. They roughly represent the stages of the disease itself. I have memories of 2015 and 2016 when my wife was still self-sufficient and self-aware; I have identified these time periods as Stages 2 and 3. Life was still mostly normal, with occasional signs that “something is wrong here” every now and then.

My existence now is best described as The Long Quiet. It is made up of years and years of no visitors, no conversations with my wife, very few phone calls, and very limited outings. The effort it takes to “go out and have fun” has long since ceased to be worthwhile. Most of my friends and family have moved on, except for the occasional phone call to check in.

Between feeding sessions, bathroom visits, showers, and diaper changes, my wife sits practically catatonic on the sofa “watching” television. Sometimes I play some music to brighten the mood, even though her response to music is also fading in this late dementia stage. When the television is off and the music stops, the quiet in this house is deafening.

There are no visitors. No laughter. No conversations. No intimacy. No smiles. No telephone ringing. No invitations. No communications. No response if I ask my wife a question or try to engage her. This Long Quiet phase has been going on for about two to three years, roughly her time in Stage 6.

Do you remember when you were a kid and you would give someone “the silent treatment” if you were angry with them? Caregivers are on the receiving end of the silent treatment for years on end. Marriages end when communication stops, but we must endure it because of “the disease.” Our suffering is not just changing diapers and lack of outside activity; we are persecuted by the disease day and night by this god-awful Quiet.

This is why I do not post here as often as before. Nothing is changing here. There is only silence for years on end. If my wife were well, I may have retired by now. There is no reason to retire now, as work provides some measure of conversations and normalcy.

Stay Strong My Friends,

Bill_2001