The word “caregiver” in the tagline above bothers me because it really isn’t accurate any more. But the title, Dementia isn’t funny, still works because dementia isn’t funny. Not in the least.
The thing is, I’m no longer my husband’s caregiver per se. For the past 18 months, since he moved to a memory facility, there’ve been are nurses and aides, companions and activities personnel doing what I did at home for years. A care giver I’m not, but I do still care.
I’m no longer in charge of trying to get him to take his meds or take a shower, to change his socks, or brush his teeth. No longer do I drag him to get his hair cut, his beard trimmed, no more do I do his laundry. Still, when I visit I often try to get him to put his clothes away properly rather than stuffed in his shoes or under his pillow. To convince him to change into a clean shirt is almost impossible. He’ll answer “Yes, dear” and continue to ignore me as he always has. I always laugh because I never could change his ingrained stubbornness and I certainly can’t now! On the other hand, the things he likes to do, sweeping for instance, he’ll do willingly, thoroughly. He leaves no leaves unswept, no blade of newly mowed grass on the pavement.
One afternoon we were sitting in the gazebo when, out of the blue, Peter said it needed a coat of paint. I agreed—that gazebo is very shabby looking. I suggested a blue ceiling, a tradition in the South said to scare “haints” away and possibly even mosquitos and wasps too. I decided to find out if painting was even possible. And it is!
The following Sunday we looked at color chips at Lowe’s and picked some blues— Playful Pool and Vintage Aqua were nice. Later I found the color at left on-line: Benjamin Moore’s Ohio Haint Blue. I favor that because, well, I grew up in Ohio. Both sets of grandparents had blue porch ceilings and none of them had ever been further south than Columbus.
The gazebo hasn’t been painted yet, but I’m confident it will be. In fact, I have it on good authority that the ceilings of the porches will also be painted “haint” blue. I’m lobbying to have the garden benches painted a matching color, and maybe find floral chair cushions shades of blue for the porch furniture.
Meanwhile, I haven’t thought of a new word to replace “caregiver” in the tagline. Peter would probably suggest “the wife”: The wife, Judith Clarke, looks for laughs every day. He’d laugh himself silly at his joke, knowing I would not!
Haint (haunt) ain’t in my dictionary, but hain’t is.
The latter, a contraction of ain’t and have not.
Header photo: Peter loves to sweep the porch near his room. Soon there will be a haint blue ceiling above his head.