Observing Kate’s decline over the past few months and finally taking steps to get in-home care for her has left me feeling a bit sad. It also makes me think about what other caregivers have said about “grieving” for their loved one long before their death. I can see (feel) exactly what they mean. Recognizing the need for in-home care is not really the beginning. For much of the time since her diagnosis, I have come to understand that our lives together have been permanently changed. As all my entries in this journal convey, that hasn’t meant that we have not enjoyed life. I still maintain that these years have been the best of our marriage. That is because we have worked hard to make the most of the changes. We have lived to make each moment special. The reality is that our lives have changed continuously since the first signs of her illness 11 years ago.
Reaching the point of in-home care is a significant one symbolically. It signals a time when the severity of her illness requires more help. Although we will begin with minimal help, that is our first step toward full-time care. In the meantime, I plan to continue doing as much as we can socially. We will continue to go to Panera each morning. We will continue lunch with local friends. We will also visit our friends in Nashville. This Sunday we are going to Asheville for a show at one of their local theaters. Once again, we will stay at the Haywood Park Hotel, our home in Asheville since they opened. We have season tickets to the Bijou in Knoxville. We will try the Live in HD at The Met productions. I am a little guarded about those. We walked out at the first intermission of the last one.
That said, I can’t forget that we are approaching that chapter of Kate’s illness that I have not wanted to face. I am at a weak point emotionally, but I know that we will be able to cope with what lies ahead even if it is through lenses covered with tears.
