But I Already Have My Lipstick On: Our story of dealing with Alzheimers
Chapter Twenty Two
The extended family in East Texas frequently asked how Belle was doing and I developed a monthly email that updated family members that wanted to know about her situation. Although I wrote the emails that were sent to the group, I would confer with Scott before sending the email out. We had determined pretty early in Belle’s illness that Scott and I did not see eye to eye when presenting a description her abilities. I used to laugh sometimes at how far apart our descriptions of her abilities could be. I was all about plain talk, and Scott, from my perspective, wore rose colored glasses. When we spoke about this gap, Scott always stated he wanted to give Belle the benefit of the doubt. I always said I knew what happened wasn’t her fault.
Up to this point in time, Scott and I had tried to keep including Belle is as many of the extended family events as possible. The three of us attended family reunions, weddings, and funerals and we assisted with relatives that wanted to come and visit her at home. Most of the trips we completed where short hops of 3 to 4 hours one way, and for the most part Belle handled these trips with a minimum amount of confusion. She enjoyed visiting with those familiar to her. And we were always surprised at how well she could cover when failing to recall who she was visiting with. As always seems to happen, one event brings home the truth of the situation and one of our trips to east Texas, made the issues Belle faced very clear to me.
Funeral services normally have an order of attention. Those most directly impacted, such as the immediate family receive the sympathy and support of the attendees. Other family members normally provide the support and sympathy, and do not receive the same level of attention of the immediate family. In November 2001, Scott’s cousin, a young mother in her mid 30’s that was also the child of Belle’s brother and sister in law she had stayed with during Susan’s recovery, passed away after a year long illness. We made arrangements and traveled to east Texas for the funeral service and Belle was with us. Since so many attendees were traveling to the service from various distances, the church had a buffet meal prior to the afternoon service and we met several of Belle’s siblings along with other cousins in the reception hall during the meal. Prior to arrival, we had reminded Belle of the purpose of the trip, but once in the reception hall, she could not recall who had passed away.
We had attended several funeral services with Belle since her illness had become more advanced without incident. However, this gathering was different. Belle was visibly upset at the sight of her saddened brother, the father of the cousin that had passed. She clung to him, clutching his hand and petting his arm, refusing to release it even at his request. It was my impression that she believed her brother was there to support her for a loss she had suffered rather than the other way around. Scott distracted Belle, gently removing her grasp on her brother, to allow him to receive comfort from others in attendance. As the event progressed, Belle’s emotional state became more distraught which negatively impacted her other abilities.
We had begun the practice of escorting Belle to the restroom about every two hours in an attempt to avoid accidents, even though she was wearing protection. In public, assisting her in the restroom was always my responsibility. Before the beginning of the actual funeral service, we suggested a restroom trip, and I escorted Belle to the facility. The restroom was crowded and we had to wait for a stall. As we waited Belle began speaking with the lady waiting in line behind us in a manner that led me to believe Belle knew her. I had been a family member for many years, but at reunions and other gatherings, I did not always know all the family members. In this instance, based on Belle’s conversation, I believed Belle was familiar with the lady. Belle began to attempt to grasp the lady’s hand and illicit sympathy for her own loss, once again seemingly believing that Belle was the one to be comforted. I realized Belle did not know the lady (and the lady did not know Belle) by the look on the lady’s face. I interceded, extracted Belle from the lady and ushered her into the now available stall. Once Belle was in, I apologized to the lady with a brief explanation that Belle was disabled. The look on the lady’s face told me she was not convinced, and to be truthful, Belle did not appear disabled. At the graveside service, an immediate family member introduced us to this same lady, who was a friend of the family, who kept her distance and indicated she had already met us.
Belle’s obvious personal grief, confusion and misunderstanding of appropriate actions in this situation caused us to reassess her attendance at similar events in the future. We wanted to include her as much as possible, but did not want her to be hurt or suffer such feelings of fresh loss and confusion. We only attended one more funeral with Belle in the fall of 2002, the funeral of her last aunt, to whom she had been very close. As time passed, we stopped attending other types of family gatherings that required overnight travel. Belle required restroom and personal hygiene assistance that tended to make road travel difficult and changes in routine by the travel itself created bad days for her. If we attended an event without her, it seemed that others did not understand why we had not brought her with us. Rather that trying to explain time and time again the reasons Belle did not travel with us anymore, it became easier not to attend at all.