Also known as Major Depressive Disorder.
Every single time Rich's MDD has come along [it runs in cycles, meds work for a while and then...] ... well then it creeps in slowly.
First red flag is him being extremely critical of every THING I do. I didn't feed the mules properly. I should be standing and watching the 300 gallon tank fill. The coffee tastes bad [I make coffee to his specifics each morning separately than my own coffee].
The sun is shining. The sun is not shining.
~~~~~~~~
I went into the woods to get that very first black morel mushroom. I thought it would make him smile.
He went off on some strange offshoot and gave me a lecture regarding mushroom hunting. He then went on to tell me about some weeds I had to go work on in the forest. I mentioned that the jewel weed was there in 2010. An argument ensued.
The grand kids in Jewel Weed July 4th 2010. Yeah, that is the only reason I know exactly what year it was.
[He hasn't been in our woods since 2016.]
Bam. It hit me. His time frame was different than mine.
So.
I agreed with him. Yes, I needed to take care of the Jewel Weed. I didn't even talk about the Dexter Cattle taking care of that for us. Best to let some things just drop.
No sense in trying to correct a memory. He has his own time frame that gets mixed up a lot. I guess I am going to have a long discussion with the Caregivers Social workers next week.
Another thing he has issues with once in a while, is that he thinks he is a randy 19 year old. Full of vim and vigor. A sexual god if you catch my drift. This is awkward but I'm going to address it here or my head will explode.
He thinks I am mean when I rebuff his strange advances. He forgets that once he tries intimacy it all falls apart. He can't breath and he can't do what he wants so he gets very angry or very depressed. I am then stuck in the house with clouds of charged particles in the air.
It is like walking on nuclear egg shells.
He cannot walk to the shed without a rest. He struggles when just getting dressed or undressed. But in his head he is a sexual god and it is my fault when he isn't. There really is no win-win to this at all. His is a fantasy in some ways which lives in his head. With mild dementia it is all true. He is the god of sex.
Well...until he gasps and asks me to set up his oxygen that is....
So instead of worrying about life with the god, I keep my head down and do the mundane things that I am supposed to do. I go for walks. Which became an issue in itself.
He decided that since I had the vaccine I should sleep or sit on the couch. I shouldn't go...go ... go.
His depression. It is insidious and creeps up getting worse and worse until the black hole swallows him. His latest med change was a last ditch effort and it worked for a pretty long time. Just over a year.
I'm his caregiver. There are days when I want to close the door and walk away and keep walking never looking back.
But I am not that kind of person.
He struggles with his mind. He knows that he used to be young strong and invincible and somedays he still thinks he is. Then he is angry with the betrayal of his health and mind.
I am the only other living soul here on our farm. So I get to be the Fall Guy.
I miss my friend.
I miss my sense of adventure and doing my own thing whatever that was.
I've bowed over and over to the goddess of MDD.
