Kate

My story of loss and bereavement starts back in the Spring of 2010. We were on a short holiday in Kent. It was partly a business trip, researching an area of Britain for our holiday consultancy the Real Britain Company. I was suddenly aware that Ian, my 57 year old husband (I was 55 at the time) wasn’t taking in what I was saying to him. Ian also confessed he was feeling generally anxious and out of sorts. I wanted to walk along the white cliffs of Dover, but he just couldn’t. We sat on a bench and looked at them from afar. When we got home the anxiety continued. In fact he felt so out of sorts that he bought me a solitaire diamond ring. He had been planning to do this for our 25th wedding anniversary three years time but he felt he shouldn’t wait.

Over the next couple of years Ian became increasingly depressed and anxious. He lost confidence and became quite withdrawn, especially in company. He also found it increasingly difficult to keep up with conversations and everyday activities, such as emptying the vacuum cleaner or putting a duvet cover on, became a challenge.

During this time our doctor diagnosed acute anxiety and prescribed anti- depressants that didn’t work and Cognitive Behaviour Therapy courses. There was not any consideration that this was anything but acute anxiety. I was increasingly convinced that the anxiety was the result of his struggle to do everyday things and to communicate effectively, rather than the cause.

To try to keep his brain active and to combat the anxiety we tried new things. Scottish country dancing was a disaster. Bridge classes became just another cause of stress. His golf game, his passion, started to suffer. He was an active member of the village drama group. When he couldn’t learn lines any more he helped out backstage. When he realised he was being carried he stopped all together.

To cut a long story short, after 5 years of witnessing my lovely, competent, sociable, husband decline into a frightened, depressed, shell of himself, incapable of doing anything of significance on his own, and after numerous visits to psychiatrist s, neurologists and other professionals Ian was eventually diagnosed as having mixed Dementia – vascular and Alzheimers.

I cried for 2 days. This was the first time I grieved for Ian. For the loss of much of his essence already and for my future loss.

So we have this devastating news. What came next? The answer is simple — NOTHING. The nice lady from the Memory clinic told us, left us with a few leaflets and we never saw her again. We were offered no counselling, no emotional support of any kind from the NHS.

Now it’s not in my nature to wallow for too long, so once I had got over the initial shock I had to try and DO something about it. I found the Alzheimers research site and offered us up for a drug trial project. Off we went to London to be assessed for suitability. To cut another long story short…this eventually led to the re-diagnosis of Dementia with Lewy Bodies. Basically Parkinsons that starts in a different part of the brain.

Living with someone who has DLB is like being a single parent to a toddler, but with none of the joy. Just as new parents are not pre-wired to cope with small children, so carers, even spouses, are not automatically equipped with the ability to cope with such dependency in an adult, even a much loved one. You run the full range of emotion every day.

Frustration, irritation, impatience, anger.

Loneliness, depression, boredom, fatigue

Sympathy, pity, love

Guilt, sadness, grief

Eventually I had to face the awful gut wrenching guilt of putting him into a nursing home, and I grieved some more. His decline was rapid and after only 8 months in a home Ian died.

In the final couple of years I would sometimes look at him and think ‘ I don’t remember who you were.’ The process of preparing for his funeral — digging out old photos and writing a eulogy — took me back to before the illness kicked in and I started to recall the person I fell in love with.

Now I can conjure those images readily. They are bitter sweet of course.

I’m done with grieving. I grieved when he was diagnosed. I grieved when he went into the nursing home. I grieved as he lay slowly dying. Now it’s time to start living my life again.

We gave up the Real Britain Company when Ian couldn’t cope any more. However I didn’t want to stop working. I didn’t want to be just a carer. I needed something more stimulating to do particularly in the latter stages when our social life had all but dried up and I was largely confined to the house. Also I knew that I must have something to fill the void and keep me going when Ian eventually died. In this respect i suppose I am lucky compared to most other bereaved people. I had time to plan my life after his death.

I started up my business Peach Perfect www.peachperfect.co.uk, my very own online boutique shop filled with perfect presents for customers “to inspire and desire”. I’ve faced so many challenges, creating a website (twice), building up relationships with customers and suppliers, and working hard to give online visitors a shopping experience that’s memorable for all the right reasons! Now I’ve reached a stage where Peach Perfect is nicely bedded in and the business is growing well. It really as been my saviour. I still miss the husband I lost slowly over so many agonising years but it has given me a focus and a determination to get on with life.

I AIN’ T DONE YET!