in reply to @katrina123 Thank you very much for your touching post. Yes, taking care of someone with dementia can be especially tasking, physically and emotionally. Therefore, I have made the very difficult decision to slowly step back from taking care of my friend. The situation has become very toxic because of her other "friend"who essentially wants total control over Joyce. I do not have the physical or emotional/mental energy to "fight" with the "other" person. While this decision took much consideration and perhaps even prayer (which I do not usually do), it is the best one for me, especially so because I am suffering from a very serious medical condition myself, and if I cannot properly take care of myself, I am no use to others. I do not plan to abruptly stop, but rather will slowly turn my back, knowing that at some point Joyce will forget about me. This in itself is sad enough because we share so many fond memories, and have until now always been there for each other. The toxic friend has ulterior motives, this many of Joyce's friends know is true. We will never understand the extent of control this person has over Joyce, but suffice to say that I want no part of her or her antics.
I went over to Joyce's last night to prepare dinner, and asked her if her friend had been over, to which she responded, "no," I knew this was not true because it was obvious to me that she had been over, and had placed some food in the refrigerator that I know Joyce will not eat and I will throw away in a couple of days. I also noticed that on the note that I leave Joyce every evening telling her what the next day is and things of that nature, that the sentence I had added, "please try to find the gold ring with the mermaids and stone" had been crossed out and Joyce had written, "I gave it to so and so." The page had been turned over, something that Joyce never does, which made it even more obvious to me that her "friend" had been over earlier in the day. I suggested to Joyce that she get a "guest book" so that people who do come over can essentially "sign in" and then Joyce will know who came over on any particular day. Normally I would purchase something like this for Joyce, but I will not, at least not today.
I have expended too much of myself and money into ensuring that Joyce has everything she needs to live as comfortably as possible during this time. I have overlooked my own needs and as a result am feeling worse than I have in a very long time, financially, physically and emotionally. Naturally, I cried most of the afternoon before I went over to see Joyce, and even cried while I was there, trying to explain that I was going to have to take things more slowly, and that I would not be spending my birthday with her as planned, and that I will never understand why suddenly her friend is at the top of her totem pole. I tried again to explain the nature of my disease, and that there is no cure for me. Whether or not she understands this is up to God at this point. No, I am not religious, nor is Joyce. But we use the word "God" to mean some all encompassing being that may be "in control" for lack of a better word.
Joyce's friend knows that I am suffering from an incurable medical condition. Her friend is a sociopath, and I say this because I lived with one for ten years and the signs are in front of my face, which is why I left my relationship in the first place, although it took me 10 years to do so. Her friend is a master manipulator, a pathological liar and then some. Having been involved with someone like this in my past, I do not want to have anything more to do with her or her antics which actually made me feel as though I were back in my relationship with the sociopath. The towel incident is a perfect example. I had given Joyce a set of expensive towels, which she loved. Some months went by and suddenly the towels were folded and placed on a table in Joyce's living room with a note for me to take them home because they were too "rough." They were rough because I had dried them in the sun, knowing, as Joyce did, that they would soften after their first use. Her friend was present when I explained this, and then offered to buy Joyce a different set of towels that I had recently seen at a high end resale shop. Her friend yelled at me to stop buying things for Joyce, and that she had already given Joyce some towels. She said she had given Joyce some towels to replace the ones I had given to her. I later looked in the linen closet and laughed because the towels were so old that they could not be properly folded. As I type this, I realize it is beginning to read like a manifesto, but I will get to the point. When the "friend" went to leave, I asked if I could walk her to her car, and she responded with an outstretched arm, saying, "STOP!" I could not help noticing that she was carrying a large bundle. Later she texted me that she would be dropping off some things for Joyce, to which I responded, "please remember to return the towels" because after she left, the towels were gone. She responded, "have you looked in the laundry basket?" It was at this point that I sent her the "threatening" message that if one more thing went missing from Joyce, I would file a police report. These antics are typical of someone with a serious personality disorder, which I want no part of. In fact, a few nights ago I ordered a background check on this person and discovered that she cares for many elderly women, has an AKA etc.
There are many who prey on those who may be "less than" and I say this not out of judgment, but rather mean people who are unable to think for themselves. As you know, taking care of someone with dementia can turn into having to think for two people, and this in itself is tasking/taxing. My sister has the same problem with her husband of 53 years. When I told my sister that Joyce had now reached the point where she is becoming "mean" my sister told me that if my brother in law becomes mean, she will place him in the memory care facility as she had planned to do the first of the year until her children talked her out of it. I do not do "mean" well, as I am too sensitive, and even though I know intellectually that Joyce is not the same Joyce who was always like a gentle lamb, I cannot tolerate what feels like emotional abuse. I don't have to tolerate it and I won't.
I feel sorry for those like you who are married to someone with dementia, like my sister. I do not know how you find the strength each day to face the unknown, the craziness and the loss of someone you have loved and lived with for a very long time. If you were standing beside me, I would give you a giant bear hug, or a "cub hug" because I only weigh 95 pounds. I look forward to hearing from you again, and I thank you for reaching out to me. I feel better already.