“The Never Wanted Day”

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
~Victor Hugo

Monday, January thirteenth. The sun rose, and I was still breathing. There had been times I was certain placing Russ in a facility would surely kill me. But it hadn’t, for there he and I both were, alive and upright. After all the grueling research, facility visits, administrator chats, red-tape approvals, and financial discussions (oh, the killer stress of it all), Russ was going to assisted living at Spruce Haven Dementia Care. Despite being an hour away, it met all our criteria and offered continuing care services.

I anguished over how to explain Russ’s stay to him in a way that wouldn’t turn him defiant and combative. After umpteen phone calls and a strategy meeting with Spruce Haven, the plan was hatched. Our idea? A ruse. Russ would attend under the pretext of receiving speech rehabilitation, appropriate, since he acknowledged that speaking gave him trouble. So…we attended a meet-and-greet luncheon to test the waters, and kudos to Russ, he sailed through like a champ! Me, I had to focus on not upchucking from worry over his state of mind and possible disruptive behavior.

D-Day. Spruce Haven admittance was at ten o’clock. Holly and I tried to relax as we drove Russ to the big check-in. Linda and Heidi followed after discreetly loading Russ’s recliner and personal belongings. The plan was that, during Russ’s check-in, they’d quickly set up a cozy looking room with his favorite pictures on the walls, the woodland comforter on the bed, and his recliner ready and waiting. All in hopes of easing the transition and reducing his trauma.

Admittance was complete. This was it. Dread flooded me. With pounding hearts, Holly and I casually walked Russ to his room, each step jangling my nerves raw and tossing about my insides.

The room looked fabulous. His reaction? A non-reaction, his calmness a jolting but pleasant surprise. For all the angst in preparing for this wrenching day in every way conceivable, the scene was nothing as I’d envisioned. No balking, no confusion, no agitation, thank God no crying, just a strange, vacant nothingness. My mind faltered with the welcome but shocking reaction, thrusting my mind into an upside-down, surreal state of bizarreness.

Russ and I locked arms and walked the floor, checking out this and that, while I procrastinated leaving. Finally, there was nothing left but the goodbye. With my chest bursting from stress, and lungs burning for air, I gently told him he’d be staying for a bit to receive help with his talking—just like we’d discussed—and I’d be back. I cheerily kissed him with assurances of my return. Paralyzed emotionally, I turned and walked stoically out the security door, the clink of its lock sounding behind me.

Holly took over strolling until an attendant approached to distract her father. Without incident, Russ obediently took the staffer’s hand, turned, and nonchalantly they walked away together down the hallway, all as if an everyday occurrence were underway. The deed was done. It was over.

The girls offered to stay the night, but I craved solitude to release my stress and process the day. A quick call to the nursing station confirmed Russ was not, in fact, distraught, and was adjusting beyond expectations. Truly? The absolutely most divine, but unexpected, news possible, but I was baffled. Where were the protestations, the stubborn defiance, the emotional outbursts I had been sure would erupt? Could he really have lost that much cognition to be oblivious to his situation? Perhaps he was totally overwhelmed? Perhaps neither or both, but whatever the reason, Russ appeared surprisingly settled. I sank to the couch in immeasurable, blessed relief.

I crawled into bed. Staring into the darkness and listening to the silence, I offered up thanks to the universe for a bad day having gone well. With the dog next to me, I pulled Russ’s pillow close and hugged it until sleep came.

Honest emotion: Beyond dread