The Battle

I hate you! This is what I heard as I was coming out of my bedroom. Darn things! Stop it! He was talking to them, but they were not listening. Frustration was covered all over his face. Tears were welling up in his eyes. He looked at me for help. I went and sat beside him, not knowing what to say, as everything I had thought of to say was said many times before. I tried changing the subject. I turned the TV on, surfing to find a comedy or an old-time show that I knew he would remember from past years. I tried talking him into going out and sitting on the porch and watching the birds and kids playing. He wanted nothing to do with it. With my help, he got up from the couch, and with cane in one hand, he slowly walked back to his bedroom. I heard the TV come on, and heard the flip of the recliner going back to lift his legs. My heart was ripped apart once again. I carried a helplessness inside of me. I have cared for many patients in my life, but caring for a family member is something I wish on no one. Feelings of love, hatred for the disease, anger, pity, can all overcome you at the same time. It is exhausting for him and for me. A daily battle is what we both fight constantly. Tonight was wonderful though. A friend dropped by. We started a fire in the fire pit and chatted for a while. Soon, my brother came outside also. He sat with us. He chatted about anything and everything, sometimes not making sense, and often forcing my mind to change directions in its train of thought. I didn’t care though. He was smiling for now. He and I were able to take this time and forget about the Parkinson’s and dementia.