The Secret Life

It’s 11:37 p.m. and I’m about to embark upon another episode of The Secret Life of Diane Sontum. Gary is asleep. It hasn’t always been easy to get him to sleep, but we now have a routine that seems to work. We lie down together and listen to his CD, Sitting in the Cascades. Sometimes Gary sings along. Sometimes we are silent, just holding each other. I hear his voice on the album—singing so clearly, playing so brilliantly, and I ache to have that Gary return. A few nights ago I couldn’t help myself and I said, “Gary, I want you to come back.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Come back to the way we were before. It’s okay now. You won’t ever be alone. We’re married. You will be safe.” There is a part of me still hoping that I can coax him back. Maybe he slipped away to avoid the painful prospect of living his life alone. Maybe I can reassure him. Maybe he will come home.

The music continues. Gary relaxes. At about song number seven—Chicken Cordon Blues—his meds kick in and I begin the careful process of slipping out of his arms and tiptoeing out of his room.

The quiet house is mine alone—and for the six weeks since we’ve been married, I have used the delicious 90 minutes—my Secret Life—to have a glass of wine or a cup of tea. I catch up on things left undone—dishes, bill paying, thank you notes, folding clothes, writing emails, tidying up, researching medication side effects, posting a blog, and learning about what to expect as the disease of Alzheimer’s progresses.

Currently Gary is in “undivided-attention mode.” He doesn’t stop moving, talking, pacing and needing to be engaged with in every moment. Recently this has been compounded by bouts of aggressive agitation. I’m working with his doctors to adjust medications, but we haven’t found the right combination yet. Everyone in Gary’s circle is feeling the strain, and I worry that caregivers will begin to see Gary as a difficult client and one they want to avoid.

On the bright side, I discovered an activity that seems to capture his attention—at least for a little while. We downloaded an app that allows him to watch the Olympics in Virtual Reality. He puts on the goggles and begins his own secret life back on the slopes—downhill skiing, racing, ski jumping and navigating moguls.

Here’s the recoding of Chicken Cordon Blues from Gary’s CD. Enjoy!