Processing the past through someone elses dementia, Part 1

I was taken back at least 13 years ago yesterday afternoon.

All of the reasons I got my divorce came flooding back to me as I stood inside the door of Stuart's hospital room.

A little backstory:
Stuart, as many of you know, has suffered a terrible form of sepsis.  The infection is in his blood, liver, lungs and brain.  There are 20-30 absesses, each the size of a dime, in his brain.  They are trying to administer anitbiotics through a pic line.  He is expected to be hospitalized for two months.

He spends his days in and out of dementia.  Some times his symptoms almost seem like they resemble Tourette's Syndrome. When he was first admitted he was violently flailing, striking himself and those around him.  They restrained him, wrapped his hands, and sedated him. He was swearing beyond profusely at anyone within striking distance.  He is still in swearing mode - which is odd for him.  Anyway, all of this backstory to say, he can't be held accountable for the things that he does and says right now.

So, I have avoided going in to his room, because I know he is fragile and edgy. I do not know if seeing me or hearing my voice will cause him stress in his current condition and that is the LAST thing he needs.  That and his girlfriend is often there and I don't want to cause awkwardness.
Just because you are divorced from a person does not necessarily mean that you hate them.  Heck I was married to the guy for 28 bloody long years. The last 13 of which were pure hell and I do confess that I HATED him during that time. But that was then and this is now.  I certainly bear him or his girlfriend no ill will.   So when I go to the hospital, I stay in the waiting room.  This way I can be there to support my kids when they come to town and visit him.

Blake got permission from his employer to come down to be with his dad for the week.  Blake has been sleeping every single night in the hospital, in the recliner chair next to his bed.  The boy looks rough, fragile and bleary eyed.

Tuesday I went to pick up his laundry and take it home to wash for him.
Blake said, "Hey mom, why don't you come stand in the doorway for a sec and say 'hi' to dad?"
I said, "well ok, if you think it won't upset him?"
Blake answered, "it should be fine."
So I stood in the the doorway and waved and said Hi Stu.
Stu looked my way and weakly said, "hi" back.

When I brought Blake's laundry back to him on Thursday, I again stood in the door and waved and said "Hi".  Stu did not look up.  Blake said to him, "Hey dad, do you want to turn your head and say hi to mom?"  Stuart frowned and said, "No!"

Which was fine.
And yet, it brought back a FLOOD of anger from years gone by.

To be continued...