The Protector

Because of where we live and who we have as health insurance providers, we may travel some to see a doctor of choice.  That was true on Monday.  We traveled by car, and because of traffic and the time of the appointment, it took about two hours to reach the neurologist’s office.  It was worth it.

The appointment hung heavy on the calendar for two months.  As it approached, I felt my tension rise.  I have taken on a new role, a role reversal, really, in my relationship with Doug.  I have become the protector.

I am not ignorant of this role.  I proudly held this responsibility as a parent.  I rallied for my daughter against the school bullies who strutted their stuff and sashayed against the school rules with pride.  I protected my son against the two neighbor dogs rushing at us from their side yard, with teeth gnashing and guttural rolling growls.  I confronted the boy who stole my son’s bike.  We found it in the boy’s front yard, and I was compelled to threaten 9-1-1 and ring the doorbell to inform the family we were taking it back.  We took it back.

But when it comes to me and Doug, he has always been my protector.  For example, I hate bugs. (I know it is really dumb, and I should get over it, but…)  Anything that crawls, I shriek.  I cannot even watch the amazing mystery of God’s bug creation on the Planet Earth TV show.  When the bugs appear, I disappear.  Doug has always stepped in like Superman and assured me I would be fine as he sweeps the cricket, the spider, the bee, or the crawly buzzy whatever outside. 

Doug has been my guardian and defender through tough and not-so-tough things.  His street smarts, quick thinking, dialogue, and athleticism could assist in getting us out of any sticky situation or just back to the car in a crowded parking lot.  His internal GPS got us unlost in Spain, London, and Weed, California.  His ability to talk to any stranger has introduced us to new friends, brought us to places to spend the night, and assisted us in catching rapidly departing flights.  His protection when I had cancer got me through it.

Now, I am protecting him.

I prepare his weekly routine.  For instance, I may schedule a golf round with friends he trusts, arrange lunch with our daughter and grandkids, and encourage a few swims at the community pool.  I take him as a passenger here and there because letting him drive would not be protecting him.  With his permission, I share how he is doing with his friends (and on this blog) so friends will understand his needs when they are with him.  I lead the way on hikes through crowded places and across unfamiliar territory.  I frequently order for him at a restaurant and always pay the bill.  I also take him to the doctor.

Through the course of Doug’s dementia, doctor appointments have typically not gone well. The doctors have all been nice enough and have done their job well.  Mostly, they have had a good “bedside manner” and have been friendly.  But they have consistently run many tests that have stressed Doug out and left me picking up the pieces.  I was not looking forward to this again.  I spent time considering (mostly while driving my car alone in silence) how I would protect him and myself from that happening again at this next neurologist appointment.  I had no answer.  I felt abandoned.

We arrived early to the appointment.  We were escorted quickly to an exam room, and then we were left to wait.  The clinical environment of an exam room is not our favorite place to hang out.  Doug and I would both greatly prefer the sounds, smells, and sights of nature on a hiking trail, with a peaceful, clear stream bubbling along and birds chirping in the trees on a sunny day, than the sounds, smells, and sights of the hygienic, echoing, white-walled doctors office. 

I could feel Doug’s anxiety building the longer we waited.  I had my protector hat on.  I was also tense.  Every time we heard someone in the hallway pass our closed exam room door, we both abruptly stopped small talk and looked, with anticipation, at the door handle to see if someone was coming in. This was not creating a calming energy.

Typically, when Doug has anxiety progression, we put on our tennis shoes and take a walk.  It works almost every time to reduce the tension and bring calm.  Our tennis shoes were on, but we were on the 5th floor, a long way from the front door.  So, instead, we got busy doing calisthenics (wall push-ups, squats, flutter kicking…). We forgot about the sounds in the hallway, and we got the giggles.  The doctor walked in when Doug was doing jumping jacks.  I think he was a bit shocked.  We all laughed. 

There were no tests this time, just talk.  Doug left the appointment feeling heard and respected, not judged by a diagnosis.  We decided against medication for now.  An MRI and an MRA were recommended.

As a protector, I felt like I gained an ally in the doctor and relaxed.  I now realize that even though it is true that our role reversal is real and that I am not used to it, and I’m a little miffed by its requirement, it is not fully bad. It just is.  I don’t have to go it alone.  I have not been abandoned.  In fact, quite the opposite.  There are many more allies in this function of protector than I appreciated.  Now I am starting to recognize them: doctors, family, friends, you, even good-will strangers.  Doug and I know how blessed we are.  We feel well taken care of and are learning to appreciate and value our allies greatly. 

Doug and Karen