By Samra Jones Bufkins
He’s been home from the hospital for 10 days. His meds were radically adjusted (more on that in another blog). I’ve been walking on eggshells the whole time. He’s grouchy, and the last 4 nights he’s gotten up at least 2 times, usually more.
When doesn’t sleep, neither do I.
Yesterday he was confused more than usual and I had to wash pants twice. He changes them, hides them, or puts them on inside out. Invariably when he does this it’s because his underwear is wet. When I see him with pants on inside-out, it’s a sure bet he’s going commando.
And that becomes a problem if he doesn’t make it to the bathroom on time.
Like yesterday. Good thing there’s no carpet in the living room.
He’s gotten up 4 times since midnight. I mopped the bathroom floor at 2 am. At 4:25 am he was up. I heard him pouring something in the toilet. The floor is wet, his bed pad is wet, and he’s changed into a pair of my jeans. He won’t take them off so I can help him put new underwear on.
And I can’t find the sweat pants and underwear he had on when he went to bed after 2 am.
I’m exhausted. My back is killing me, but I don’t have medical insurance, so I’ll tough it out, just like I always do.
He just turned on the living room TV loud enough to crack the slab.
So I’ll go mop the bathroom floor again and look for pants and wet Depends. I’ll throw those in the wash AGAIN. I can’t go back to sleep because he’s got a doctor appointment at 10 am.
It’s not even 5 am yet.
Just another day in Alzheimer’s World.