It’s hard to describe how someone can be apparently sleeping, and at the same time be restless. Isn’t sleeping rest? Good question. We are starting to experience something that doesn’t feel like sleep or rest for either one of us.
This post was written last week, but then it sat around waiting and wondering why it didn’t get to go on the blog. Poor neglected thing…
The last couple of days have brought a few subtle changes. The husband did well at keeping his eyes open while we had visitors, but he could not talk. Later he tried talking to me but I could not understand him. Much of the problem I attribute to his mouth being dry. He breathes with it open all the time and his tongue dries out and becomes pretty useless in forming words. He doesn’t move his lips either. Words are just a bunch of vowels – aahh, eehh, uuoohh. I guess and we play 20 questions until I give up.
And then the restlessness started. I stopped dressing him in sweatpants for convenience sake, instead putting a blanket over his legs when he sat in the recliner. But it wouldn’t stay on. One leg would come up on the chair and the blanket would end up on the floor. Twice, when the recliner was fully extended, he got his legs trapped between the footrest and the chair and couldn’t get out. That was interesting.
Then I started finding him uncovered in bed whenever he was in it. It does get warm in the house on a sunny day so I can understand him wanting to cool off. But at night it can be chilly. Last night, every two hours or so, I found him with the sheet twisted around his feet, his bare legs and shirted torso uncovered, blankets on the floor, eyes wide open and hands reaching for some invisible something. One time while I covered him, he said “Cover me more” and it came out clear as a bell.
So my guess is that his lucid moments are becoming fewer, and his “dreams” or hallucinations are more frequent and require movement. So he moves whatever he can, which is mostly his right leg and arm.
I know I’ve been losing him in small increments for a long time, much of it he has hidden. He’s not able to hide anything now.
These are the sad times that I speak about. The good thing is that he is here with me. I don’t have to go anyplace to take care of him. No snowy, icy roads. I can handle the interrupted sleep and the crazy talk.