BARRY’S JOURNEY No. 18
I try to visit Barry at least twice a day at his care center. I ride my bike there in the morning to get my exercise in and then try to get there in the afternoon with a treat from Dairy Queen.
On nice days we sit outside, or I take him to an activity if one is scheduled. Some spouses are there all day with their loved one; others come to say good morning or good night. I haven’t found a rhythm yet because I’m not retired and have to work. But I try really hard to be there for Barry and keep an eye out for anything that might be wrong with him. He can’t tell me much about how he is feeling.
What’s for lunch?
Sometimes I help feed Barry his lunch. If you want to go on a diet, take in lunch at a care center. It will take that appetite right away! Barry’s food is all soft so he won’t choke. Ever seen a puréed barbeque sandwich? It is so unappetizing that I can’t even think of eating for hours after a visit.
When I moved Barry to the care center, I took my trusty Sharpie permanent marker and marked all his clothes with a large MCCOOL. It’s kind of like going to camp! But as time went by, he never had any clothes in his closet! Where were they going?
The case of the missing shirt(s)
One day I was feeding Barry his lunch and looked over at Barbara who sits at his table. She was wearing Barry’s shirt. I knew it was his because it was a pink and green polo shirt from Gap that we all teased him about when he bought it! Well, Barbara can’t talk and the shirt looked pretty good on her — so who cares.
But this last week, I walked in and saw another gal wearing a Tommy Bahamas shirt that I knew very well because I bought it for Barry years ago. A few days later, I saw her in another one of his shirts. Now I know why he keeps running out of clothes. I wanted to complain, but this morning when I rode my bike to see Barry, there he was in the wrong room, dressed in someone else’s really nerdy sweatshirt — one he never would have been seen in before he got FTD. When I brought him back to his room, he was holding a remote that did not go to his TV, and in his closet were slippers with a camouflage design that definitely were not his.
I guess I am not going to complain about his missing shirts. They may find their way back to his closet! It’s just like musical chairs, except with clothing.