Hallucinations

I thought I was doing an above-average job caring for my husband with his early-onset Alzheimer's.  Together, we were navigating memory loss like champs.  Routines were in place complete with bathing, meals and social outings.  I had this whole dementia caregiver thing down. No problem.

Enter hallucinations stage right.

Just like that, my well thought out daily schedule was tossed out the window. His reality became our reality. Hallucinations changed the game entirely, and I have no idea what the rules are, who’s playing, or when the next round begins.

It started off pretty tame. He believed the news anchors were speaking directly to him during the evening broadcast. Easy fix…change the channel. Then came a miniature Mark Wahlberg showing up at our house, asking for money and pressuring my husband to use the Hallow app. No worries, honey. I heard Marky Mark is a decent guy. Just… maybe don’t give him our retirement fund.

But then our home health aide called to let me know Wayne was upset with her for asking him to come in out of the rain where he was watching soldiers train in our backyard. That’s when I knew we were in a new chapter.

A few days later, he left the house late at night with a flashlight to go find God, who he believed was standing down the street as two illuminated street lamps. Some days, he stares out the window, seeing things I can’t see and he can’t find the words to describe. He studies his hands, turning them over slowly, or picks at an invisible thread dangling from his finger. On the days he’s teetering on the edge of reality, he’ll question, “Tell me what you see.”

Like most things in dementia caregiving, it was time to readjust. Bedtime is now earlier and more consistent.  I’ve found new ways to make sure my husband doesn’t feel isolated during the day.  Figuring out what triggers the hallucinations, or at least understanding how to deescalate these moments, has been tricky yet essential in helping my husband feel secure and grounded. 

This new stage has been tough. As much as I thought I was prepared, I grossly underestimate how demanding it is to function around and through these newly imagined but influential residents in our lives.  I couldn’t have guessed the things my sweet husband now sees and believes. I find humor when I can.  It keeps me from crying.  Sometimes, I imagine the old Wayne listening to the Alzheimer's Wayne explaining an outlandish story.  Would he have been heartbroken to hear it?  Or would he laugh and roll his eyes?  

I’m not sure.  

But I do know this…he would’ve pulled me in close, wrapped me in a tight hug, told me to hang in there and thanked me for loving him.