Missing Person

Because I see Rosemarie every day I often miss the incremental changes in her behaviour that, when seen in perspective, are quite dramatic. Her increasing reluctance to co-operate in feeding (at least with me) and the general change in her pattern of speech (from normal conversational volume to a conspiratorial or reflective whisper) represent a further loosening of the moorings.

For a long time she has been easily distracted during meals, but usually calling her name and adding "Here's some food for you" gets her attention and she would allow me to feed her another forkful. The process was slow, and slowing - it would often take half an hour to feed her a couple of sandwich quarters, a serving of beans, and a small bowl of peach segments. It became progressively harder as the food got cold and even less appetising, but we would get there in the end.

Now it is much more difficult, and I didn't really notice it happening. A lot of the time she totally ignores me, and keeps her lips firmly closed, or turns her face sharply from a proffered forkful. Something vague seems to be happening to her but she doesn't share it in any way at all. She is not noticeably distressed, and she doesn't seem to be looking at any person or thing in particular. There is just a sense of withdrawal that is chilling.

I saw this coming, but that doesn't help. It is another small loss to be picked up, examined bitterly and cast behind me to join the huge pile of emptiness that fills the space where a lot of me used to live.

There is a small chance that it is to do with the medication (we had a review recently) but whatever the cause it is a brutal wall between us and I started to wonder if I was starting to disappear from her awareness. I have not been sure over the last few months whether I am recognised as her partner of 35 years or only an anonymous visitor who has come to see her just about every day for the last year. The "I love..love you...you...." has become much rarer and less personal, and it seemed I was disappearing from her world, and she was disappearing from mine.

Or so I thought.

Normally I arrive at the Care Home in the afternoon and sit with her for a while before supper at 5 (which I try to feed her) and stay with her as she is changed and put to bed (usually just after 6) and I sit with her in her room for as long as I can. We listen to music and eat chocolate and I try to communicate with her.

This Monday I was unavoidably late and did not arrive until after 6. As I came out of the lift I saw her being wheeled towards me on her way to her room. This time she clearly recognised me (sometimes she looks right through me) and she gasped and started crying. The care worker explained that she had been really distressed during supper and she thought that this was because Rosemarie missed me. There was a complex layer of signals to Rosemarie's communication that didn't really prove or disprove this: I have been there and seen her get very agitated at supper - maybe by the behaviour of other residents or a noisy TV - and one thing the last couple of years has taught me is to be wary of assigning cause and effect too easily.

But maybe... it would be a relief to think that she still recognises me and understands who I am. When all of this began we promised each other that we would never forget we loved each other.

That is a day I really do not want to see.