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The Twilight Years Are Here

The Twilight Years Are Here

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Double Trouble & "Cycling" Minds

April 11, 2010

In the mornings, I sit in my rocking chair on the downstairs porch. It is beneath the dining room and kitchen. Gradually, sounds begin to filter through the floor above me. The creaking, sort of grating sound of the wheelchair making its way across the floor alerts me that Mom is up. Today, it was only a matter of moments before I heard the steady beeping of the oxygen machine alarm (Dad never remembers to turn the machine off before he unplugs it)as he drags it laboriously along behind her.

I have heard the sounds that herald round 2 of my morning routine.

I go upstairs to greet them and see how they slept (though I already knew the answer to that one). Dad woke me up at 2:30 because she was having a rather severe asthma attack. She had been off oxygen since about 8:00 and it took a while to get her back on track. I stayed with her until we could get it under control and she was asleep.

As I steer them through their morning medical routine, I quickly realize that this is going to be a rough day.

Mom is confused, disoriented and struggling to keep her eyes open. Her mania is the only thing keeping her moving. Dad is deep in the throes of Alzheimer's. His attention span is about 10 seconds long before he forgets what he's doing. He is unable to complete simple tasks today without guidance and instruction.

I long suspected that they were somehow "cycling" their mental illnesses together. On our last visit to their doctor, I asked him about it. He believes that it's entirely possible. Mental illness can easily feed off another mental illness. It's kind of like an alcoholic or drug addict feeding off another alcoholic or drug addict.

In an odd way, it is co-dependency, but it is much more than that... It can be a coping mechanism (he can't handle her dementia or mania so he retreats into his Alzheimer's) (she can't handle the Alzheimer's, so she retreats into her dementia).

Fewer are the days that they are both clear minded at the same time. In Dad's case, a day no longer goes by that the Alzheimer's isn't present. In many ways we have been very blessed. Dad's journey into dementia began almost 10 years ago. It has been a very slow progression (though it has been an insidious presence that couldn't be hidden or controlled for a quite some time now). On the bright side, I watch him try to fight it every day.

Mom's journey has only recently begun. Until this past year or so, she has been surprisingly clear headed and sharp. But the progression of her decline over the last 6 months has been rapid and is clearly visible to everyone. Unlike Dad, she embraces her illness. She slides into her own private world that shuts out her surroundings. There, she is content to putter and play in a place where reality plays no role. Dad's Alzheimer's doesn't exist there, people don't move in to your house and do everything for you there, no one tells you to eat your dinner or take your pills there. You don't have to do... or be anything at all there. It is a place where she feels "safe".

It is getting harder and harder to pull her back to reality lately. And these episodes are becoming more and more frequent. It breaks my heart to wonder what it must feel like to her. I am watching someone who used to be one of my very best friends, slip away. Physically, emotionally and mentally, I am losing her and it hurts like hell.

These are the times I cry in frustration. There is nothing I can do to stop it. It's my job to continue to try to make their journey as easy for them as I can. And so, we will simply go on...

1 comment:

  1. Dealing with dementia as a caregiver is not easy, specially if you allow yourself to become a victim of it yourself.

    Dementia specialist

    ReplyDelete