The Dinner Party
There is an inclination when one’s spouse has dementia, to hide from the world. When the reality sinks in, all one wants to do is escape. (Check out my article titled “escape routes” at www.thedementiadiary.com).
After a while, the need to return to a real life becomes essential. No one said this would be easy.
Thus, in addition to accepting invitations from friends, I am making dinner parties at home. Up until last night, they went without incident. Hubby was able to enjoy the company even if he could not follow the conversation.
After about seven hours of cooking to prepare my version of a gourmet dinner of coconut ceviche, Jamie Oliver’s tray baked white fish, Mexican meatball soup and coconut cream potatoes, and while waiting for our guests to arrive, Hubby decided to remove his sporty royal and navy toned jacket with a front zipper and metallic crest.
Why are you taking off the jacket? I asked.
“This is not my jacket. Someone has taken my jacket.”
Of course, this is your jacket. I bought it for you.
“No, my jacket has a fur collar on it.”
It is hot outside… we are not wearing clothes with fur collars in the summer time.
“HE has stolen my jacket. Do you have HIS phone number?”
Who is HE?
“You know who HE is… I need to speak to HIM!”
My ever so clever response: I cannot find a phone number without knowing the name of the person!
At this point, Hubby is getting frenetic. His aide, Violet, has been working with me all day to ensure the meal goes beautifully and she is feeling stressed. We really do not need this drama, literally minutes before our guests are to arrive.
And arrive they do, as planned. Hubby is distracted while they all say hello to him and then resumes with his inquiry. One friend kindly sits with him as he explains how he needs to call the police to report the theft by someone whose name he cannot recall. He continues to ask each guest if they know who it is.
My friends are amazing – sweet, kind and cooperative – although they too have no answers. Once we are all seated at the dinner table, Hubby continues asking me the same questions. Violet takes him away from the table and realizes that the jacket he thinks has been stolen is a brown leather jacket with a small fur collar on it. She goes to the closet to find it.
Hubby reappears at the dining table wearing this winter jacket and looking like all that is missing is his Harley. He insisted on wearing the jacket for the entire extremely warm evening.
The meal which we worked long and hard to produce was appreciated by all the guests except one. Hubby refused to touch any of the courses. I made no effort to force him. Once the dessert was served, which of course Hubby was happy to accept, he began opening the box of tea bags. I asked what he was doing and he told me that he was still hungry. Little wonder. He began taking a tea bag out of its paper wrapper, and I was sure he might try eating it if I did not whisk it away. I piled fresh fruits onto his dessert plate, and more cookies – of course.
It was a lovely evening in spite of Hubby’s antics. Our guests were deep in conversations about start-ups, family roots and normal topics. They kindly answered any of Hubby’s questions but the evening certainly did not revolve around him.
In the process of deciding that life is worth living after all, I have moved from the darkness into the light. It may sound dramatic for those fortunate enough not to be caring for another with memory loss, but it was a very conscious and critically important decision.
One of our guests discovered a photograph book which was made for me as a gift. In it are pictures of Hubby and I, when we first met and married almost fifty years ago. I pointed to the one where his muscles were massive and he was gorgeous. It took my breath away. I fell in love with the man in the picture all over again. We humans are strange creatures indeed.
