… and speaking of losing motivation, this post is late. Let’s just say it’s been a rough week. Or maybe it’s a week where all of those little straws  that have been gradually lining up on the camel’s back, have suddenly become unbearably heavy.

We’re on the cusp of the next decline stage in Jim’s cognitive function. Stage 5 is giving way to stage 6 and it scares the bejesus out of me. Stage 6 is when he’ll need my help to dress, wash, and eventually toilet.

Will I be enough?

I find myself retreating, mentally and emotionally preparing for the next stage. A battle between my love, compassion, patience and inner strength vs. the chaos of Dementia Jim’s repetition, inability, incontinence, shame and fear. Which makes me feel guilty because this is also when he needs me the most. But, like the flight attendant tells you at the beginning of each flight, “Put your own oxygen mask on first before helping others. You can’t help them if you’re not breathing yourself.”

Since I stopped work, I’ve been hoarding those emotional and mental ‘oxygen masks’. Things that help me cope so I can better look after Jim. Now that we’re almost to the point where he needs me, I’m worried I haven’t stocked up enough.

Dementia says, “Don’t care, doesn’t matter ’cause ready or not, here I come.”