The Metamorphosis of Intimacy
This is harder to write than I expected.
Rosemarie and I have always been close, emotionally and physically, and like all close couples we have developed our own vocabulary of intimacy: certain words, gestures and touches acquired deep and significant meaning.
Almost all of that is gone now.
True, when I arrive at the Care Home I am often (but not always) greeted by upraised arms, an attempt to stand, and an open mouthed "Ohhh" - almost an invitation for a hug. I try to fold my arms round her and hold her but she is already losing her balance and starting to sit. There is no strength in her arms and she makes no attempt to lean in to me. She seems to slip through my arms like water.
We used to hold hands a lot. Now she doesn't so much hold my hand as limply allow me to hold hers. There is no strength in her grasp and no movement: no squeezing or stroking.
Her mouth is now a very private and sensitive area it seems. She is very choosy about what she allows to touch her lips and this presents a significant problem when feeding her. It also makes it very difficult to kiss her. She has to be calm and in the right mood.
There are also physical barriers to closeness. You can't really snuggle up to someone who is in a wheelchair, or a high-backed high-armed leather chair. The bed has padded rails to prevent her falling out and they rise like a wall between us.
She seems to actively resist attempts to cuddle her and at best does not co-operate and at worst pulls away. I don't know whether it is about intrusion into her personal space, or a feeling of confinement, but there is something about it she definitely does not like.
So cuddles, snuggles and hugs have disappeared from the emotional menu, and intimate contact is now reaching over and stroking her forearm gently, or an occasional stolen kiss.
Well almost. She has an endearing habit of sometimes leaning over and gently kissing my forehead, or just leaning her forehead against mine. She also does this to my son and daughter and it is a sunburst of intimacy in an otherwise pretty desolate tactile landscape.
For the most part our physical relationship now is formal and chaste and would not alarm the strictest Victorian chaperone.
This disease is taking everything away from us, one bit at a time.
Rosemarie and I have always been close, emotionally and physically, and like all close couples we have developed our own vocabulary of intimacy: certain words, gestures and touches acquired deep and significant meaning.
Almost all of that is gone now.
True, when I arrive at the Care Home I am often (but not always) greeted by upraised arms, an attempt to stand, and an open mouthed "Ohhh" - almost an invitation for a hug. I try to fold my arms round her and hold her but she is already losing her balance and starting to sit. There is no strength in her arms and she makes no attempt to lean in to me. She seems to slip through my arms like water.
We used to hold hands a lot. Now she doesn't so much hold my hand as limply allow me to hold hers. There is no strength in her grasp and no movement: no squeezing or stroking.
Her mouth is now a very private and sensitive area it seems. She is very choosy about what she allows to touch her lips and this presents a significant problem when feeding her. It also makes it very difficult to kiss her. She has to be calm and in the right mood.
There are also physical barriers to closeness. You can't really snuggle up to someone who is in a wheelchair, or a high-backed high-armed leather chair. The bed has padded rails to prevent her falling out and they rise like a wall between us.
She seems to actively resist attempts to cuddle her and at best does not co-operate and at worst pulls away. I don't know whether it is about intrusion into her personal space, or a feeling of confinement, but there is something about it she definitely does not like.
So cuddles, snuggles and hugs have disappeared from the emotional menu, and intimate contact is now reaching over and stroking her forearm gently, or an occasional stolen kiss.
Well almost. She has an endearing habit of sometimes leaning over and gently kissing my forehead, or just leaning her forehead against mine. She also does this to my son and daughter and it is a sunburst of intimacy in an otherwise pretty desolate tactile landscape.
For the most part our physical relationship now is formal and chaste and would not alarm the strictest Victorian chaperone.
This disease is taking everything away from us, one bit at a time.
posted by Other Kosh at 11:24 am
1 Comments:
Jeez, I'm not surprised it was hard to write. It reads like never-ending torture. Are there any people in the same situation you can get support from? I know they won't have any answers, but do you think it might help just being able to share it with someone who knows? Thinking of you...
Mxx
Post a Comment
<< Home