Coming Out No Party

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I have been having trouble ‘coming out.’

No, I am not gay. And as Jerry Seinfeld famously said on one of his television shows 20-some years ago that then became a catch-phrase, “not that there is anything wrong with that.”

No, I have been having trouble telling people that my wife Terry has Alzheimer’s Disease.

It is not that I am ashamed of it. I’m not trying to hide it. As a matter of fact, it is just the opposite. I want people to know. I would much rather people know what her problem is rather than wonder why she can’t perform so many simple tasks.

I guess I would rather people know she has an incurable disease than think she is simple-minded. I would prefer that she was just not that smart.

Most people I work with know. All of my friends know.

The problem is, when I try to tell people, I get emotional. I’m not sure why that is.

Obviously, it is an emotional subject, but it is something I’ve been dealing with for two years now. Even before she was positively diagnosed in the spring of 2014, it was the fall of 2013 when I knew something was seriously wrong, more wrong than just “menopause” which her primary physician had suggested. It was two years ago when I first took her to a neurologist to have her checked out.

Turns out it was more “mental-pause” than “menopause” that she was suffering from.

Terry’s condition sometimes gets to me, but for the most part I am able to handle it. Except when I try to tell someone.

I remember telling my neighbor this past summer. I was a mess. I was fine, making small talk. Then she saw the Walk for Alzheimer’s tee shirts on the clothes line and asked about it. When I tried to tell her it was Terry who we were walking for, her and I both started balling.

And it happened again the other day, with a total stranger.

I took Terry shopping for some new clothes, but she was having trouble in the fitting room. Even though I only gave her one item at a time to try on so she would not get confused, once she went in there she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do.  (I’m just so glad that she didn’t yell out “Hey, there is no toilet paper in here!”)

So I went up to a sales person to ask if I could go in the fitting room with Terry. I didn’t want her to think I was a perv or anything so I tried to explain Terry’s situation, and I started getting emotional again.

I guess knowing it and actually hearing me saying it are two different things.

Fortunately, the sales person was very understanding and said there was no problem with me going in there, and she even offered her help if it was needed, which was nice.

What was not nice was the fact that I almost lost it, in public, in the middle of a store.  And I hate Terry seeing me upset. I need to be strong for her. She gets a lot of her information these days by reading my reaction to things. If I am calm, she is calm. If I am laughing, she is laughing. I don’t want her all bummed out because she saw me crying.

I remember the day I wrote my first blog. I e-mailed the link to many friends and some co-workers, telling them what had happened. After I hit send I had to leave work for the rest of the day. I totally lost my shit. I was even having a tough time driving home that day.

That seems like a long time ago, June of 2014. Fifty-two blogs ago. A lot has happened since then, and most of it has not been good. But some of it has been.

The relationship that Terry and I have is great. We have never been closer. We are almost always together now, and enjoying each other’s company.

Unfortunately, the amount of time we are together is as much a necessity as it is a choice. Terry’s decline in cognitive skills has not stopped.

For the most part it has happened gradually, so it never really hit me that hard. That is, until I try to tell someone about it.

When my friends and co-workers ask about Terry, how she is doing, it isn’t really THAT tough for me to talk about, for the most part.  But it does get to me.

The everyday dealing with it, however, is something that I have been able to handle. I guess I have Terry to thank for that.  She still has a great disposition. She still laughs every day. She still smiles most of the time.

Lately she has been getting a kick out of my daily “Easter Egg hunts.”  One of the few household chores that Terry can still preform is doing the dishes. But after she dries them and when she puts the dishes away, there is no longer any rhyme or reason as to where she puts them.  She puts the pots and pans where we keep the tupper wear, and she puts baking dishes away in various places around the kitchen. She doesn’t even try to put my travel coffee cup away. She just leaves that out for me to put it away.

Terry is beginning to worry more about things. But she has faith in me, she knows I will take good care of her, and she constantly thanks me for doing so. As if she needs to do that.

I never mind taking care of Terry. I think I am good at it. What I am not very good at is telling people about our situation.  Not in person, anyway.

Until next time, I guess I just won’t be that good at ‘coming out.’ Not that there is anything wrong with that.

Bud