Jeanne's spirit still alive & thriving.

When I put my dear Jeanne into a nursing home, I thought it was the worst decision of my life. But it turned out to be one of the best. For Jeanne. For me. Yes, for everyone. Initially, I felt a strong sense of guilt. Because I thought I was letting Jeanne down. And that if I really loved her, I’d continue as a 24/7 care-giver. But Jeanne had become unmanageable for me because of her worsening Alzheimer’s. She was belligerent. Incontinent. I couldn’t leave her alone even for a few minutes. It was far too risky. And I was becoming exhausted. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. I was in danger of breaking down. I proposed that various relatives and friends form a team. To give me some occasional time off. To recuperate. But that proposal went nowhere. Nobody seemed willing to come to our aid. Yes, that’s a shame. But it’s reality. Anyway, I finally put Jeanne into a special 30-day behavioral modification program for dementia patients. In the hope that we could alter her behavior. To make the care-giving more manageable. But that didn’t work. And so I tearfully went the nursing home route. And it made me depressed. But I decided it was important that I be with Jeanne in this setting daily. To see that she got special care. Proper care. I’d become her advocate and protector. And so, in the 38 months and one day that Jeanne spent in the nursing home, I was there. Generally for 8 to 10 hours a day. Didn’t miss a single day. Even when I had a cold. I’d wear a mask. And help take care of Jeanne. And other patients, too. I developed a routine. Became part of the nursing home community. I saw to it that Jeanne got fresh air daily. Took her out in a custom-made wheelchair. Often for rides of 10 miles. All over town. And all the way home. A six-mile round-trip. So she could visit with her cats. And sit on the lake shore. She’d be out in the wheelchair even in the wintertime. Tucked inside a thermal sleeping bag. And I’d hoist her into the car. And take her into the countryside. And I’d hand-feed Jeanne her lunch and supper in the privacy of her room. Rather than in the turbulent, disruptive congregate dining area. The residents of a nursing home generally get only one shower a week. But I personally took Jeanne into the shower room every night. Just before bedtime. And gave her a shower and a soothing body massage. I’d personally put her to bed, to soft music. And then I’d go home. For my respite. I’d be back at the nursing home by mid-morning the next day. For my daily routine. Giving Jeanne my personal brand of good vibes therapy. Believe me, it worked wonders. Every resident of a nursing home needs and deserves such treatment. Jeanne was no longer belligerent. And we were able to wean her off most of her medications. She had a sense of being loved. She knew I would be with her. For the rest of her life. Jeanne died. On Jan. 18, 2007. I was with her when she took her last breath. I was devastated. I thought it was the end of the world. The end of life as I knew it. But it was only another beginning. A continuation of life. Wonderful life. I had 38 years with Jeanne. For which I am grateful. I have been blessed. Knowing full well that Jeanne’s loving spirit is still alive and thriving. Inside me. –Jim Broede