The Book of Dementia

 I just spent 20 minutes on the phone attempting to guide  my Mom through a problem with her TV.  She can't explain what's happening,  doesn't know what 99%  of the buttons on the remote are for, and won't follow any instructions I give her, so it was a blast. Eventually I determine that (once again) she's trying to access programs she wants to see...that haven't come on yet. I tell her she can't time travel to the shows she wants to see, and  once we get the problem fixed everything is "Oh well I had tried that already and it didn't work for me." Denial, dismissing her confusion, blaming me for not being  clear--but at no point a willingness to admit that things are changing and help is needed.

  There's no definitive timeline for what  aspects of  the brain's abilities will be affected by dementia.  But one influence for the order of  events seems to be  'malicious humor.' To have a person lose the ability to reason, to remember, to use language, to conduct themselves properly...but yet  they can still drive? So that they can go and show off to  the world how poorly they function now?  So they can  become humiliated? Make themselves a target to all the criminals and con-artists looking for a vulnerable  mark? The disease is bad enough, but the fact that the 'timeline'  for 'what capabilities go at what time' isn't more conducive to allowing a dignified progression is just an extra slap in the face. My loved one is currently ignorant as to the humiliating things she's saying and doing in front of others. But an awareness of it--and crippling shame and self-awareness-- could kick in at any time. That ego and defiance w...

  If I had started chronicling my experiences with my family member's dementia in real time, that journal would have started easily a more than a decade ago. But dementia--like many illnesses--is a cruel and  insidious beast. It works its way into people slowly, secretly, taking over bit by bit so as to make the  suffering last. It's a long-term dilemma, difficult to address and with no cure. But here we are, nearly 14 years into dealing with  the matter, and I need to begin  documenting what  it is I'm dealing with on a daily  basis. There are several reasons for doing a blog. I won't pretend that altruistic motives are the chief concern, but certainly we all benefit from seeing our common experiences shared so we see we don't feel so alone in our  struggle. That's important because the isolation and whelming nature of being a care-giver is terrifyingly lonely. And if (as is all-too-often the case) you are the solitary care- giver, you truly fee...