Tomorrow is garbage day. Actually, today is, it is after midnight. Pat carried some garbage out for me and was upset. He called me to tell me that it wasn't picked up last week and wanted to know if I had paid the bill. I had. It is paid until July. He had forgotten that he took some down late last week after garbage had been picked up. It took several times of telling him the order of what happened and that Wednesday is garbage day. I think he has it...until he forgets again.
Yes, he has dementia. It is not officially diagnosed yet. I have to call again to reschedule his cognitive test as COVID quarantine (mine) caused it to be canceled. Chances are he will pass it. They aren't living it and can't see it happening.
His mother, three of her sisters, and two of her brothers all had dementia. Four of the six were diagnosed with Alzheimer's. My mind was prepared for cardiac disease and lung disease, this, I wasn't ready for.
His family won't see it. He is not close (physically) enough for them to witness it. Brook sees it. He calls her and texts her. He loses me and it worries him. He is trying to hold on to what he has because I believe he is afraid of losing them, the cats, me, his stuff.
For 28 years I have listened to his stories-they are changing.
I'm not ready.
I don't think anybody is ready for that. You and Pat are in my thoughts.
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