Helicopter Husband

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I think I may be a Helicopter Husband.

You have probably heard the expression Helicopter Parent, describing a parent who pays extremely way too close attention to their kids’ experiences and problems, especially when the kids are older, old enough to handle things themselves.

Helicopter, as in they hover overhead.

Ever since my wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, I have done more and more for her, including making 90 percent of her decisions. I am always hovering overhead.

Part of that is because she can no longer do many things that she used to. Terry has not driven a car since fall and I doubt will ever again. She could probably operate a vehicle if she had to, but she no longer knows how to get anywhere, and she is no longer capable of figuring out how to get somewhere.

Terry can no longer cook. Following directions from a cookbook has become a major struggle and she doesn’t remember her own old recipes. The ability to use the stove, oven and microwave unsupervised no longer exists as well.

She is able to do the laundry but sometimes not without a few hiccups. Terry can still iron, thank the Good Lord, because that is the only chore I have not done. I changed as many diapers and washed as many dishes over the years as Terry, but ironing for some reason was never something I could master, or try to master, or even try to do. I might have ironed twice in my life.

Speaking of dishes, Terry can still wash them, but sometimes after she dries them she doesn’t know or remember where to put away certain pans or glasses.

Terry has never taken her own Alzheimer’s medicines in the year she has been on them. I decided on Day One that she was not going to have to try to remember if she took them or not. I give them to her every morning. The few times I was out of town my daughter gave them to Terry and because of my hovering my daughter would sarcastically text me a picture of Terry taking her meds.

When Terry sets up meetings or appointments with her friends and her Bible Study partners, I have to be involved, so I can write them down for Terry, put them on the calendar for her. Remember them for her.

Members of Terry’s Bible Study group have been great. A few of them pick Terry up on different mornings and take her to a Bible Study. The interaction and just getting out of the house is great for her.

What was it that Johnny 5 said back in the 1980s in Short Circuit?  “Input!”

When I am away from Terry I fear that she cannot be left alone for any length of time. I know she doesn’t like to be alone. I always give her lists of things to do, to keep her busy. And she always has music playing. Input.

I began wondering if maybe I was aiding her decline by doing so much for her.  Maybe if I made her try to do more things herself then she would be able to do more things on her own, when I am not home, for a longer period of time.

What is that expression; Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish; he’s off every weekend with his buddies drunk on a boat. 

Or something like that.

The big difference is, with Terry, I’m not really teaching her anything, nothing that she doesn’t already know, or used to know. At the very most I would be trying to help her muscle memory kick in.  Things that she has done a thousand times, but is now forgetting how to do. Maybe if I make her do them, or guide her through doing it, rather than me doing it for her, it might help?

For a while, anyway.

That’s the worst part. Things are only going to get worse. Last year the doctors told us it was important to get on the meds as soon as possible because it would give us an extra year or two. A ‘year or two’ of what, I didn’t ask. I was afraid to. But I got the idea.

So I think that is why I want to do so much for Terry. Sure, some things she can’t do. But there are some things she could do if she had to, but she would probably struggle.

Well, I don’t want her to struggle. Not now. Not yet. There is going to be a shit load of struggle in the years to come, so if I can prolong that as much as possible, I will. Even if that means I am a Helicopter Husband.

I remember about a year ago when Terry was crying. I tried to console her and she said “It is just so hard.” Talking about life in general.

I don’t think I’ve seen Terry cry since then. I would hope that my hovering has helped prevent it.

Terry said it was just so hard.

Well, I don’t want it to be so hard for Terry. So the least little things I can do for her, fix her lunch, pour her a glass of green tea, anything, I’m doing it.

Except ironing. As Meatloaf said: “I will do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”

When we were told it was Bucket List time last summer Terry and I went to Kauai, Hawaii. While there we took a helicopter ride over the beautiful island and it was one of the coolest things we ever did. Brad was the name of our pilot and was extremely entertaining and knowledgeable of the island.

The rest of the week every time we saw one of those tourist helicopters hovering overhead we would always say “Hi Brad” to it.

In the months to follow there was a running joke every time we saw a helicopter, no matter what state we were in, I would ask Terry “do you think that was Brad?” and she would remember the great time we had last summer.

Showing Terry a great time and helping her remember great times. That is my priority. I admit, I pay extremely way too close attention to Terry’s experiences and problems. If that makes me a Helicopter Husband, I think I am okay with that.

Until next time, Brad and I will probably still be hovering,

Bud