Me talking about dementia

Me Talking About Dementia

   This is going to be an occasional blog where I document what I've been going through, helping my mom with her dementia.  I'm not going to post it on facebook or anywhere else.  If you see it, you don't have to read it.  I'm hoping that by documenting it I might gain some enlightenment.  Or at least a safe place to vent.

   Once, what seems like long ago, my mother was an amazing person.  I didn't think there was anything she could do.  The divorce from my father broke her mentally, but she came back.  Then she married my step dad, who spent her money, put them in debt, and then had the good grace to die.  She was never the same after that. But then, she had been diagnosed with the family curse, diabetes, by then.

   At 70 years of age, Mom started taking pills for low level diabetes.  She moved back to CA to be near us, but her finances (lack thereof) caught up with her, so she moved in with her crazy older sister, Louise.  I knew that was a bad idea, but once mom makes up her mind, it's hard to change it.  Louise had always been a bully to mom.  In my Aunt's defense, their mom left my mom in Louise's care far too much.  From an early age Louise was led to believe that my mom, Joan, was her responsibility.  Living with Louise, so much later in life was an eye opening experience for my mom.  She learned that many of her childhood bases phobias (snakes for one) was directly tied to Louise.  Mom made real strides in understanding herself and her relationship with her sister.  But finally she realized that she needed out of there.  So we helped her escape and after a brief stay with me she moved to Arizona to live with my brother Dave and his wife.

   Mom didn't last very long back in Arizona.  I think she was still dealing mentally with Louise and the problems of Dave's family got to her.  When my cousin Pam asked mom's help in caring for her mom, Bette, mom jumped at the chance and drove to northern CA.

   Caring for her sister-in-law Bette while Pam was in rehab was a nightmare.  Bette was an uncontrolled, insulin dependent diabetic.  Mom did the best she could, but she was in over her head with no real help.  Bette would loose touch with reality and accuse Joan of trying to kill her and all sorts of stuff.  Mom even had to call parametics when Bette got too bad.  For my kind, sweet mom it was way too much.

   When Pam finally got out of the hospital mom headed south in a hurry.  When she arrived at my place, mom was like a shell shocked veteran.  I told her she could stay as long as she needed.  I think I sort of knew, even then, that mom was not going to be leaving.

   Within a few months I knew that mom was not who she had been.  Was it a result of the trauma from her experiences?  That certainly was the case when she first arrived.  Or was it the early signs of the dementia that ran in her family?

  As time went on, I was pretty sure it was the start of some form of dementia.  There was a history of it in the family.  My mom's mother had a version that was mostly failing memory.  We would drive down to see her (2-4 hours!) and after about an hour after we left she would have no memory of our visit.  She was mostly healthy otherwise.  For a long time Grandma Connor lived with another woman who had intact mental abilities, but limited physically.  But eventually Grandma lost more and more and was hospitalized. She died soon after.  Mom's father, and two of her brothers had a different dementia route.  Diabetics all, they just sort of slid into the gray and out of reality. I remember visiting her brothers with mom when they were towards the end of their lives.  I remember seeing them fight to stay in reality so they could have a conversation with mom.

   With that back history I watched and slowly made adjustments.  Mom could still drive, but if both of us were in the car, I drove.  Her driving terrified me.  More and more I did the driving for her.  She still handled her finances and her medical stuff.  That part of her was still intact.  But I wondered for how long?