03/09/2013 12:27

I apologise for not writing my ramblings last night. My head was just too frazzled and I couldn't bring myself to write because I didn't think I would be fair.

Hubby has now decided that I am definitely happy that he is ill because it means that I can sit at home all day (on my arse), do nothing and have the government pay me for the pleasure. What? Wow? Are you being serious?

He has decided that I need to work. That I am the millstone around his neck. That I am dragging him down and that he doesn't need me at all. Not only do I have to apply for jobs, but he's decided that he needs to vet the jobs I'm applying for so that he can tell me if they're suitable to apply for or not. This counting to ten and deep breathing m'larky is going to have me hyperventilating if I'm not careful.

Roll on Thursday when he sees the consultant, but you know what? He'll pass that dr's meeting with flying colours and there'll be nothing wrong and all is fine and dandy and what are you on about Constance, there's nothing the matter and all that guff.

We're back onto moving house again. I heard him speaking to my brother saying "this was never the house I was leaving feet first from". Now this is true. We bought this house to get us onto the housing ladder, and the intention was to work our way up, but that was before the Dementia diagnosis and now it just isn't practicle, or financially viable.

It sounds awful, and I know it does, but I can cope with the memory and confusion issues, what I really struggle with is the sheer bloody mindedness of this illness. The mood swings and the repetitive rantings that are aimed at me. It grinds you down and makes you feel worthless, especially as you can't argue back because there is no point in it. By not arguing back, I often think that I'm confiming his rants and thoughts about how useless I am, but to argue means that he starts the rant from the very beginning and just goes round on a loop.

I wonder if when the medication is upped does this mean that these rantings and irrational thoughts will disappear or does it mean that they will simply stay at the level they're at at the moment. I just don't know, and yes I love hubby, but sometimes you just want to go and sit in a darkened cupboard and sway back and forth until it stops. The sad thing is, that it never will.



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