The Man in The Chair

(The Man in the Chair is my father's perspective the The Woman In The Mirror.)

The Man sat in his favorite armchair, staring at his wife who was sitting across the room staring at the blank TV screen. He could tell she was lost in thought, lost in the foggy maze that Alzheimer’s had created in her mind.

The man in the chair found it heart-wrenching to watch her like this.

His wife had always been a bright, intelligent, creative woman who loved to read, travel, sew, help others, play the piano and so much more.

He loved her quick wit and her keen mind. He missed the “take-charge” emergency room nurse he had married some 50 odd years ago.

He smiled remembering the time he caught her reading recipe books. If she hadn’t, she would never have learned about crepes…and crepes were his favorite!

But now with Alzheimer’s she was losing her sharp mind and all the memories they had made together. How can you be so intimate with someone for that long and yet they have no idea who you are. He could not comprehend it!

Her thoughts would drift away like a dandelion puff blown away by a light breeze – scattered and aimless.

At first, she would forget even the simple mundane things like how to make a cup of tea or brush her teeth.

The man in the chair was devastated, his mind remained sharp as a tack – dates and details have never been more clear. He remembered …he would remember for them both.

They shared more than half a century together. They had raised 5 children, built a life full of love and laughter and more than a few moments of pure shenanigans.

But now that life seemed as if it was lived by someone else. His wife was becoming someone he hardly recognized but I guess he too was becoming someone SHE hardly recognized anymore.

Sometimes he would feel sadness wash over him as he watched his wife stare off into space lost in her own thoughts. Is she thinking anything? Is her mind racing to try and catch fleeting thoughts and memories? Sometimes she would look so sad – so scared – so lost…with no recognition of the man in the chair …

Sometimes he would feel so angry. His life, their life, was not meant to be like this!

Knowing he’s losing the woman he had married caused such angst and grumpiness throughout his days. He hated to admit that she would be the brunt of that anger sometimes. He was losing patience and hearing the same sentence and thoughts hundreds of times a day was taking its toll. He just couldn't take any more dried tea bag sandwiches on burnt toast.

Some days he would sit with his shame for hours unsure of how to make things right with her. It wasn't like she would remember his anger - would she? Could she?

Despite the sadness and the anger, the man remained steadfast in his love for her.

He would sit in his chair for hours watching her and listening to her each day. He would hear her chatting to herself in the mirror – sometimes she was calm and kind, other times angry and rude.

He couldn’t quite make out the whole scenario. He did not want to get closer and intrude on the exchange between her old self and her new self.

The woman had been his rock over the years. Seeing her decline and slip away day by day was unbearable. He knew as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, she would not be returning to him.

He watched her wander around the house searching for lost items that were in plain sight; her 3-legged glass bowl, her nursing ring and her pewter jewelry dish. Some days she was frantic in her search and then instantly calm when the man pointed to where her precious items were.

The man in the chair had learned to fend for himself – not that he hadn’t before but his wife had done so much for him – for the family over the years.

He realized a long time ago that she was not herself but he couldn't stop hoping she might “snap” out of it.

He feared for her daily. Her wanderings were getting worse, her arguments in the mirror, the accusations, the restless sleeps and getting up in the middle of the nights – it terrified him. How could he keep her safe?

Once, she had walked 4 miles into town. When he noticed her missing he drove to bring her back, she refused to get in with him. She insisted she did not know him and didn’t take rides from strangers.

It was in that moment, he knew.

He knew that to keep her safe, he had to let her go.

When she was home again and soundly tucked into bed, he held her hand, whispered “I love you”, and returned to his chair.

He sat for hours in tears, wrestling with his thoughts and his heart. Each were at odds with the decision.

As the sun began to rise, his tears had dried and his decision made, he then picked up the phone and dialed a number he had tucked away years ago waiting for this exact moment.

It rang three times, then a soft, kind voice answered,

“The Pines Care Home, how may I direct your call?”