The Beautiful Shoes
Can you imagine owning a beautiful pair of boots and having a mysterious intruder enter your home to switch them… not to steal them… but to switch them for a different pair?
Hubby’s morning began at 6 A.M. today. Violet tells me that he got up and put on his black zippered leather boots with his pajamas in order to go outside. She calmed him and suggested he rest a bit more before leaving. At 6:30 AM he entered my room and said:
“Hello – are you awake?”
I answered an emphatic “No!” and he asked if I would like him to leave me alone. I told him that I would greatly appreciate it. Guilt crept in as I had no idea what Hubby might be doing with himself walking around the apartment, but sleep overwhelmed me and I did not resist its lure. Thirty minutes later Hubby entered my room again:
“Do we have keys to the doors?” He inquired.
“Yes.,” I mumbled.
“Where?” he responded.
Keys in the hands of Hubby could be like a hand grenade in the mouth of a puppy. There was no way that I could tell him that his keys are on the table next to his bed. They are there only for one reason, because during waking hours he frequently asks where they are. The good news is that he forgets the answer, and therefore cannot leave the house when his aide and I are sound asleep.
I could not ignore his question, so I deflected it very cleverly by saying “Call Violet, she will help you.” Only then did I actually get to return to the amazing dreams interruptus.
When I finally joined Hubby for coffee a couple of hours later, he was wearing a totally different pair of shoes. These are his newest, “best” shoes which are to be paired with a suit and tie, not the sweatshirt and sweatpants that he still donned from his sleep attire. He had insisted on putting on these beautiful shoes which we bought him in France. They are half suede and half textured leather.
These shoes were purchased about three years ago from a small shop in France that served as a retail outlet for the manufacturer. We so enjoyed meeting the owner of the company who shared with us that the specific shoes we were purchasing, were made for a famous store in Beverly Hills. We knew the store well. He shared with us that the shoes we were purchasing for 200 Euros, were sold on Rodeo Drive for over a thousand dollars. We liked them so much that we bought them in two color combinations. It is a personal weakness of mine – buying on sale. Such a bargain!
These are the shoes that are the topic of concern this morning. Hubby insists that someone has “switched the shoes.” He is convinced that someone has entered our home (in the still of the night?) and has brought two different pairs of shoes, and has exchanged them for the originals. He is convinced that the shoes are not in fact, the ones we purchased. His paranoia does not help him to suggest how that might have actually happened. He has put on one of the pairs, cognac colored. He has decided that he will be going outside and needs to dress well. Hence, we have decided he must be coordinated in shades of beige and brown if he is to meet up to the “Diamond standard.” Helping him to put together a suitable outfit, does distract him enough to stop talking about the very strange incident which he is convinced – has occurred. In all fairness, I must share that at one point Hubby started to question how this could have happened. He actually admitted that he did not have an answer.
Hubby was a fashion designer in Europe for twenty years. His love of beautiful clothing will never leave him. When possible, I make an effort to find special clothing for him that helps him to feel good about his appearance.
In recent years we have been purchasing high quality clothing for Hubby in France when we would go at least twice a year. When we were in business in Los Angeles, he had everything custom made by his tailor. We have not been able to do that in recent years as our travels to the USA became increasingly difficult. For hubby to fly to the West Coast from Europe would take over 20 hours… much too much for him to bear. Now with Covid-19, we join the rest of the world’s population and have not travelled anywhere for a very long time. Neither of our wardrobes has been updated for a while, but then there is no need for new clothes when there is nowhere to go to enjoy them.
When we decided to purchase an apartment in the South of France, we made many visits to find one suitable to our needs. We had sold our home in London and all those worldly possessions (forty years’ worth which began in Los Angeles and then shipped across the ocean to London), were in storage and needed a home to receive them. Hubby fell in love with an elegant older building which had over 100 apartments in it. I asked him multiple times to please think about the stairs in the building. There are stairs to get to the Foyer, stairs in the Foyer to the “lift” and a few more stairs on our floor to get to our front door. There are stairs which one must walk down from the main road to the level below to reach all the shops in the area. In those days, Hubby was cocky – absolutely unwilling to accept his age and the possibility that he might not be so agile in the future. As always, Hubby got his way. We bought the apartment in spite of my concerns.
In the ten or so years that have passed, stairs have indeed become an obstacle for him. In recent years we hired a companion to walk with him to keep him company, to be sure that he did not trip on the pavement, and to be sure that we would never lose him again (In case you have not yet read “Finding Hubby…Three is a Charm!”) Now we need much more assistance – as life has become far more complicated for us over this past two years. My fears have come full circle.
We now have a lovely apartment, almost inaccessible for Hubby. The joy of having a home in the center of a metropolis with everything within walking distance, has become an encumbrance.
In addition to the difficulty of traveling now, I remember vividly when Hubby was ill in that apartment. It was immediately after had completed chemo and radiation for Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. He passed out when he stood up quickly from a sitting position on a low sofa, head first, onto stone floors. I had never seen so much blood. Of course, he ended up in hospital once again.
Another really important lesson that I wish to share with you, totally unrelated to dementia: After an individual has lost a substantial amount of weight, it is more than likely that their blood pressure has changed as a result. Hubby was on medication for high blood pressure but actually no longer needed it after a substantial weight loss. Thus, his medications were bringing his now normal blood pressure down to a dangerously low level. And that is why he passed out. No doctor had thought to pay attention to this, including the GP I had make a home visit earlier that same day.
The doctors in France were convinced that he needed to be in a cardiac unit. I did not understand why they came to that conclusion, probably because my French is sub-standard – a result of classes I took over 50 years ago.
The memory of Hubby falling face-down, on the stone floors haunts me to this day. If I were to take him to that apartment again, I fear his lack of stability might cause another fall and head injury. It just is not worth the risk.
Hubby complains bitterly that I always think that I am right. This time, I was, a word to the wise should have been sufficient! But not with my Hubby!
Believe it or not, I worry about how I will supply Hubby with lovely new clothes if I cannot get him to France in the years ahead. How foolish is that? Still, Hubby is resilient and I would not be surprised if he lives to 100+. He is a very stubborn chap even with dementia, perhaps even more so because of it. I am convinced that he plans to receive “The Queen’s Telegram” when he reaches his centenary. I must get “extra points “in the optimistic-fantasist category. Old habits are hard to break!
