On Tuesday, Jim was more lucid than normal. He remembered the homecare worker had been in several times and thought to ask me how much she cost.

I was happy and hopeful that the decline caused by the stress of moving had righted itself now that life had settled down again.

Yeah, not so much. It was a temporary moment of clarity.

As with most dementia patients, he does better when we have a schedule. Wake up, ride the exercise bike, breakfast, lunch. dinner and then he takes his shower before we wind down for bed.

Tuesday night, mere hours after his heightened awareness, he came out of the shower and then hopped on to the exercise bike and asked me how I slept – his usual morning routine. It was almost 8pm.

The next day, he asked me for something to eat and I told him supper would be ready in a few minutes. Surprised he asked, “What happened to breakfast?”

He remained oblivious, I didn’t handle his new lack of time-recognition well. My brother stayed with Jim while I snuck out to have a private little freak-out.

It brought home to me that I can’t depend on just being home close to my family to give me the support I need. I have to make a conscious effort to look after myself more because I don’t get the same little breaks as I did when we lived out West.

Back there, Jim was in familiar surroundings and was used to me being out of sight in the home office. Here, not so much. Having home care once a week helps, but I’m going to need more.

If I’m out of his sight for more than a minute or two, he comes searching for me. Sometimes, if he’s napping on the couch, I can sneak out of the room, but if the floor board creaks or I make a noise, he wakes and comes to find me, over and over again until I come back out to sit beside him.

It’s not good for my physical or mental health to be stationary all day. Luckily, it’s June and we’re about to have more sunny days than rainy ones. He doesn’t mind sitting outside while I’m working in the garden. I’ll grab my moments of respite where I can.