Light on the water

I have had a day off, thanks to more rain and no immediate indoor priorities. 

I headed into town in miserable mizzle to visit the library, deliver some eggs and to have coffee with some older friends.

A and K are in their 80s and I call in on them once a month or so. They are kind, generous people who welcomed me to North Otago when I first moved here. 

K has heart issues which he is managing quite well. A is gradually losing her grasp on the everyday: something which has been increasingly obvious over the last three years, but which K has been covering for assiduously.

Today he drew me aside after our tea and cake and catch-up, to tell me that A is having 'memory problems' which I might have noticed?

"Yes K, I have picked up on it over the last wee while."

63 years ago they married, having met a few years previously. I'm sure it is torture for him to witness A's decline. She is on medication and having 'more and more tests' for dementia. I noticed that her confusion was greater than ever today, but he assured me that the drugs are helping.

"Thank you for not saying anything and for being kind to her" said he. She doesn't realise what's happening and he wants her to remain blissfully unaware for as long as possible.

Ever stoical he brushed away the tear in his eye and took a small step backwards so I couldn't give him a hug (which was my instinct). It would have undone him.

A brisk walk on Cape Wanbrow was absolutely necessary after that. I stomped along, railing at the world in which good, well-loved and loving people are destroyed by dementia. And their nearest and dearest suffer the heartbreak of slow inevitable loss.

The wind and rain felt appropriate for my mood, and I felt a lot better by the time we reached the car, damp and out of breath. 

Bean is a favourite of A's, so it was lovely to see her sitting quietly beside her accepting pats and love. I'm sure she knows there is a need for comfort there. Good girl Beanio.