Even if you forget me, Jun 6 at 9:20

A couple looking at each other with a smile.
The two are separated by a glass window.

My wife is diagnosed with dementia and her memory is lost.
However, due to measures against the spread of the new corona, it is not possible to touch them directly.

"Even if you forget, I won't forget you,"

is a record of a couple who were robbed of their daily lives by Corona.

While we can't meet in Corona ...

Shingo Yoshida, 80, lives in Suita City, Osaka Prefecture.
I am not able to see my wife Tamiko (80), who lives in a special nursing home, as much as I would like.

I wanted to cherish the time I spent with my wife, whose symptoms of dementia were gradually progressing, so I went to a nursing home every day, but Corona completely changed my daily life.

To reduce the risk of infection, meetings were severely restricted and visitors were forced to meet through windows.

Tamiko's symptoms have progressed over the past three years.
I couldn't eat well and lost about 3 kilograms.
I couldn't walk anymore and slept more often.

Now, we can meet once a week for 10 minutes, but when Mr. Yoshida talks to us, there is almost no reply.

Supporting each other both professionally and privately

The two met about 2 years ago.
After dropping out of college and getting lost in life, Yoshida visited a Christian church.

At that time, Tamiko greeted me at the door.
I was gradually attracted to the way they faced things straight.

After two proposals, they got married.
We are blessed with three children and have supported each other both professionally and privately as pastors and evangelists.

"What day of the week is today?"

In May 2006, a turning point came.

When Tamiko was 5 years old, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's dementia.

Tamiko had subjective symptoms even before her diagnosis.

I should have been standing in the kitchen to cook, but I didn't know what I was going to do.
They forget that they have shopped and buy the same ingredients over and over again.

The symptoms progressed slowly.

When Tamiko wakes up in the morning, she checks the fridge over and over again.
Each time, Mr. Yoshida told him, "It's okay because there are still many things to do."

"What day of the week is today?"

I was asked the same question over and over again.
I also became more unable to recognize Mr. Yoshida and his children.

Bathing and toileting also need support.
There were times when I was gone from home and didn't know where I was.

Nine years have passed since Tamiko was diagnosed with dementia.

"Nursing care at home may be the limit" Yoshida herself had a worsening chronic illness, and after discussing it with her family,

she decided to enter a special nursing home.

"Mom, I love you."

The two have spent most of their time together.

The meeting at the facility was an important time for Ms. Yoshida to be able to face Ms. Tamiko thoroughly.

"Mom, I love you,"

Yoshida said, avoiding difficult words and holding his forehead together, expressing his affection as much as he could.

Sometimes, while walking hand in hand, Tamiko would sing her favorite hymn.

I also felt that Tamiko's smile had increased compared to when she was caring for her at home.

Due to the effects of dementia, we exchanged fewer words, but I felt that our hearts were strongly connected.

Ms
. Yoshida: "We would only meet for two or three hours at the facility, and although I didn't sing well, my wife was the only fan of my singing, so I sometimes sang hymns."

"There were times when I was close to him and he was like, 'Who are you?' but when I held out my hand and walked with him, he said, 'Oh, Dad.' We looked up at the sky together and laughed together. We did a time where we could meet face-to-face and communicate with each other, and we could really feel that we were a couple."

Dad, run away from me, sorry

However, irreplaceable days were suddenly taken away by Corona.

We haven't seen each other at all for about five months. I want to understand more about Tamiko.
Yoshida was re-reading Tamiko's diary, which had been written earlier.

"Dad, I'm sorry you're running away from me."

This sentence was written two years after I was diagnosed with dementia.

At that time, Tamiko asked me the same thing over and over again, and I ran out of my house.

Even so, Tamiko wrote down words of compassion for Yoshida.

Mr
. Yoshida: "My illness is causing me trouble and making me have a hard time, and I feel sorry for my father for having to be with me like this. I think I've done a husband who makes his wife feel sorry. It hurts my heart, doesn't it?"

Furthermore, as I read on, I noticed that it was written "Shingo Yoshida" many times.

There were some mistakes in the kanji, but Mr. Yoshida's name was written over and over again.

Mr
. Yoshida: "I guess I was desperate. I think he thought it was an important name for me."

Parks and walking paths that we once visited together.

Even when walking alone, the image of Tamiko innocently looking up at the sky comes to mind.

Ms
. Yoshida: "When I walked a long distance, my wife used to ride in a wheelchair, and she would tell me, 'I'm going to push the wheelchair, so get on it.'

At the meeting through the window

Five months after I couldn't visit at all.
Finally, I was able to meet with Tamiko.

It only takes 5 minutes. It is a meeting from the outside of the facility, through the window.
Direct contact is not possible.

Ms. Yoshida showed her a picture of her grandson in her sketchbook.
We sing Tamiko's favorite hymn in a loud voice so that you can hear it through the window.

In response, Tamiko extends her hand to Yoshida.

"Mom,"

Ms. Yoshida called out again and again, bringing her face closer to the window.

At that moment, Tamiko opens her mouth.

It was my salvation that he recognized my father
, Mr.
Yoshida.

After that, Mr. Yoshida continued to visit through the window.

However, with each passing day, their eyes became less and less visible, and Tamiko's response to calling out "Mom" decreased.

We were able to meet face-to-face, but...

Last November.
In an unexpected way, we will meet Tamiko directly.

As the symptoms of dementia progressed, Tamiko, who could no longer walk, had to move to another facility.

It was the first time in a long time that the two of us walked only 11 meters, a journey of only 2 minutes.

It was an event that required us to face the reality of the progression of the symptoms.

Mr. Yoshida wrote on Facebook his thoughts for his wife, who is progressing with symptoms.

"The joy of meeting in person had faded, and I was thinking about the future life of my wife, who has advanced dementia considerably, and I felt the pain of being crushed by the thought of the separation of the two people that would continue due to the corona disaster" (from Facebook)

At that time, the meetings were often difficult.

"Towards the end of the visit, I tried to hold my wife's hand over the barrier, but she angrily tried to shake it off" "

I feel that my worries are growing due to the harsh environment of corona visits and the symptoms of late dementia, but I still want to live with hope" (from Facebook)

"If you forget, I won't."

April 4th.
Yoshida spoke to Tamiko:

Mr.
Yoshida: "Mom, there were a lot of forget-me-nots in bloom,"

"It's forget-me-not, and it's okay because I won't forget my mom. Even if you forget, your father won't forget you. I remember everything about Tamiko's life and keep in mind what kind of person she did."

She had always kept the promise she had made to Tamiko in her heart.

Tamiko:
"Dad, I think I'll forget about my father, but I'm sorry if I forget.


Even if you forget me, I will remember you."

These were the words Yoshida promised to Tamiko, who was worried that if dementia progressed and she forgot her husband, she would not be able to make it as a couple.

Mr
. Yoshida: "I don't want my wife to forget me, but I thought it would be terrible to ask my sick wife to do that. If I had said it earlier when my wife could still understand the language properly and her cognitive function was working, I might have been able to accept that she would forget it with peace of mind."

Looking for wifeliness

The position of the new coronavirus in the Infectious Diseases Act has shifted to Class 5, and our lives are returning to what they were before the spread of infection.

However, there are many facilities for the elderly that have no choice but to continue to restrict visitation in order to protect the lives of residents.

Three years have been the couple's separation.

For Ms. Yoshida, it was also a three-year struggle with how to accept the reality that Ms. Tamiko's dementia symptoms were progressing.

Right now, I cherish the small amount of time I spend with Tamiko while strolling through the garden of the facility and looking at the same scenery, such as the maple leaves that Tamiko likes.

Ms
. Yoshida: "I don't think my wife, who is pushed by me in a wheelchair, no longer remembers the words I said, but I have confirmed that the dignity of her personality has not been lost.

Beyond the lost time, the two are beginning to tick the same time again.

Osaka Broadcasting Station
reporter Hikari
Kitamori joined the station in 2015. He is currently in charge of medical care. Covered human rights issues caused by the coronavirus pandemic.

Osaka
Broadcasting Station Director Hiroto Kato
joined the station in 2012. Worked on programs on the theme of dementia such as "Dementia Mother and Brain Scientist Me"

Osaka Broadcasting Station
Director Keisuke
Sakai joined the station in 2018. After the Wakayama Bureau, the Osaka Bureau from Ototoshi. Currently, he produces a program with the theme of "reviving".