That thing called love: Meet Bill and Pam McNalley

In less than a week, star-crossed lovers around the world will go the extra mile to make each other feel treasured and adored. In honour of Valentine’s Day, Huntsville Doppler is focusing its extraordinary person profile on two lovebirds who have been through thick and thin, had their share of ups and downs but never once second guessed their feelings toward each other. This is the love story of Bill and Pamela McNalley. A box of tissues may be required…

Sometimes Bill McNalley falls asleep watching television. When he wakes up, he looks over and wishes more than anything that his wife could be there beside him.

“She should be here, but she’s not,” says the 77-year-old.

You can hear it in his voice. A detectable sadness. Despair. The woman who he shared a life with for 58 years is battling Alzheimer’s.

The diagnosis came 12 years ago. Little things started to happen. Once Pam left the stove on after she was done cooking. Eventually she lost her driver’s licence. Two summers ago, she was found by the police wandering on the road on Scugog Island in Port Perry, where the two resided at the time. At that point, Bill says, she still remembered her name but from then on there were padlocks on the doors.

Bill was just 19 when he married Pam and he’s had eyes for only her for almost six decades. Despite the physical effects Alzheimer’s has had on Pam, Bill still thinks she’s beautiful.

Bill and Pam were living together at a retirement residence in Whitby, Ontario but then Pam’s health started to rapidly decline as a result of the disease. She was having difficulty walking and became incontinent. Bill could no longer care for her. He was basically sleeping with one eye open and the round-the-clock care that she needed was taking a serious toll on him.

The Community Care Access Centre put her on a crisis list. I was just exhausted making sure she didn’t fall out of bed. I’d try to sleep beside her and hold her hand. I mean, at least we were still together. In terms of how it progressed, it’s like falling off a cliff. At this time, last year, she was shovelling snow with me; now, she’s confined to walker.

Pam lives at Muskoka Landing Long Term Care, a place she’s called home for the last five months. Bill is living in his son’s basement in Novar. He doesn’t like the daily commute. He’s driven down the highway in some pretty treacherous weather conditions just to see his sweetheart. He put in an offer on a condo in town. Being closer to his wife will make things a bit easier. He visits her every single day. Usually he arrives in the early morning and stays until the late afternoon. He feeds her, brushes her hair and takes her to the washroom. He does whatever he can to make her comfortable. He would do anything for her.

Bill and Pam led an active lifestyle up until last year. They walked hand in hand almost every single day, and that’s what he misses the most.

“Honey, who am I?” Bill asks his wife.

“Bill,” she answers.

“Okay, so today I’m Bill. That’s good. She remembers. But sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I’m her dad or she calls me David. That’s our son. I do talk to her and explain things to her. She still has lucid moments. But the other day she was agitated and she just sat in her chair mumbling. She seems to like when I sing to her.”

Watching Alzheimer’s slowly take pieces of his beloved has been devastating. It breaks Bill’s heart to see the one he’s shared close to six decades with living in a constant state of confusion. It’s a tragic outcome for his once vibrant wife. She was a great mother to their seven kids. (It should be noted the McNalleys have 23 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren!) Pam used to be an exceptional cook and it was something they enjoyed doing together. She knitted, crocheted, quilted and did needle work. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. She loved to garden and the two of them volunteered for various organizations in the town they lived in.

When asked about what the best part of being married for 58 (almost 59!) years to his wife has been, Bill doesn’t hesitate a moment.

I loved our walks together. We walked hand in hand almost every single day. We were both in pretty good shape.

Being married for as long as he has, Bill’s also learned a thing or two about love and how it grows over the years.

“When you start off you think you’re in love, but you’re not. It’s probably more infatuation and physical attraction. You grow into love. When I said my vows almost 59 years ago, I didn’t realize coming near the end here she’d be so sick and I would be looking after her. I still love her. I still think she’s beautiful. She still turns me on.”

Some days are better than others, says Bill. Here, Pam flashes her gorgeous grin, which her husband has always admired.

There is no timeline for how long it will take Pam’s Alzheimer’s to reach a peak. Bill simply takes it one day at a time. He considers it a blessing that he got to share his life with someone as special as his wife. But he admits he’s lonely without her. He doesn’t like that feeling. It’s not one he’s used to. He finds it in himself to keep smiling, though. Mostly for her. After all, she has given him the best years of his life.

“I miss her,” he says.

And really, what else can he say?

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