It’s been a rough few days. I feel like I’m running in circles and then someone throws a figure eight into my path.

Living with someone with Dementia often feels like you’re in the middle of a gaslighting session. Gaslight meaning they do one thing and then convince you it was something else thus making you question your own judgement and recollection abilities. A favourite strategy among bullies and abusers.

Some days it feels like I’m doing this to Jim only it’s because he just can’t remember one thing to the next. Other days it feels like he is the one playing me for the fool.

Friday night’s news talked about how low-dose aspirin could help reduce blood clotting symptoms of Covid-19. Jim has been taking daily low dose aspirin since before I met him. When I told him how great it was that he was already doing something that could help prevent Covid, he didn’t know what I was talking about. Even though he looked at the pill bottles on his shelf, he swore he didn’t take them.

Since, he was directed to take them by the doctor over a decade ago and didn’t want to chance him missing doses. I took them from his bathroom and put them  in the medicine safe along with his prescription bottles and added them into his daily pill containers to ensure he took them.

Saturday morning he starts searching for his low-does aspirin. He always takes it in the morning after he brushes his teeth and couldn’t find them anywhere.

When I tell him about our conversation the night before he doesn’t remember it and thinks I’m nuts for suggesting he didn’t know he took aspirin every day.

This is the part I find the most difficult. I run on logic and I naively thought the physical aspects of caregiving would be the hardest. This is by farthest the most exhausting, mind-bending heartbreaking, soul-crushing experience I’ve ever encountered… and we’re just getting started.