Today’s guest post is from a writer whose blog I have read through twice in it’s entirety.  It depicts one of the more honest and heart-wrenching stories you’ll ever read.  Gayle’s love for her husband Jim and her commitment to him underscores all that is good in humanity; and her writing … her writing brings death to life.

And, as a preface, I want to forewarn you that the honesty you’ll read in the following post has words that were made to express Gayle’s situation … words that are neither intrinsically wrong nor meant for everyday use.  So, if you’re offended by strong language, I kindly ask you to skip this post.

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Gayle's husband Jim with their daughter.

Jim, my late husband, at the time this post was written, was believed to have had a rare form of frontal temporal dementia. This isn’t the kinda of dementia where grandma doesn’t remember who you are anymore or where grandpa sleeps in a bed all day and is feed applesauce. No, no… Jim wasn’t that lucky.

This dementia turned Jim into a caged lion.

“Our” world, the one our minds govern with common sense, intellect, and compassion became his cage. And he fought like an aged lion tiring to escape it. Trying to find peace and freedom, from his mind. His fighting had caused him to be kicked out of dementia related nursing homes and denied entry into others. Caregiving agencies refused to come help and hospice had refused to admit him. The only option was for him to be placed in a State Mental Hospital.

I knew he would leave this world soon and I was determined to let him feel love and peace at the end. Three weeks before he passed he was allowed conditional entry into a dementia nursing home, my own mental health was fading and I could no longer speak. These were my thoughts 3 days after he was admitted…

While lying in bed staring at the ceiling this afternoon (kids were taking a nap) I came to a strange realization about myself. NOTE-this is not deep, i attribute it to the pills i take.

Anyhow, I’ve always thought those people in the zombie movies who keep their afflicted loved ones chained to the wall, or chair and feed them bits of once living things were nuts. Or down right fucking crazy. I mean what is the point of keeping them around? First off, whatever made them who they were (their spirit) died, and secondly, they might or will kill you when they get the chance. So they should obviously get the hell away from them or make it so they can’t kill others (basically just kill them).

So when i think of what jim (or what was left of him) & what I had been through in the last 7 months I realized that I am that fucking crazy person or at least was. Jim was sick with no hope of return and i was seriously putting myself at risk. I was choked, hit, almost raped, ect. by a loved one who was losing his brains. It was rational to have him placed in a secure facility. But every time he was released from his 5150 holds I fought to bring him back. Why? That’s fucking nuts. He could have killed me if he wanted (he is 6’6″ and i’m 5′ nothing). Was i crazy? did i think i could bring him back? would I follow him to the ends of this earth? did i?

I did not act rationally then and knowing that is what is holding me together now.

Follow Gayle on twitter and please visit her website.

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