Reflections on My Mother’s Journey with Dementia

Bridge over lake in very foggy weather

My mother’s advanced dementia has caused her physical life to become limited due to her lack of balance and resulting falls. The last fall caused a broken hip, leading to her current stay in a care facility.

As I travel back and forth to that facility, I listen to Rebecca Solnit’s essays from the Faraway Nearby and almost long for the mother in her story who has all of her physical capabilities and is only missing the memories.  The memories of who she is.  Or who she thinks she is.  But I’m also glad that I don’t have to deal with the “running away” aspect.

Grappling With the Genetics of Dementia

Everyone talks about dementia on my mom’s side of the family, but as I recall my paternal grandfather seemed to suffer from some of the same issues at the end of his life, too.  He didn’t have physical limitations, though, and was caught several times miles away from the group home where he was supposed to be.

Should I prioritize physical health over mental faculties or vice versa? This is an idea that haunts me, knowing that I could lose both like my mom has.

There is a darkness in my mind at times.  During those moments it becomes hard to see light outside my head.  But this morning I do feel lighter.  I feel better.  Physically I know I need to exercise, more but mentally I feel so much less foggy than I had been feeling.  I feel more like myself than I have in quite a while.

Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash

What Is Normal Aging?

I’m troubled by my loss of words when speaking: my thoughts suddenly dry up. Not even a trace remains of what I meant to say. To escape the awkwardness, I switch topics. Unfortunately, my neck pain won’t go away with stretching as it normally does. That’s new.

My thoughts are scattered.  They’re not circular like an essay should be.  They don’t flow smoothly from one subject to another.  Outside I hear a small hawk crying and crows chattering in the background.  The hawk flies away still crying in the air.  The sun should be rising but the rain clouds in the western sky tell me that I won’t be seeing the sun this morning.  That’s fine because I need to move this desk from a western window to an eastern one somewhere so that I can observe the rising sun on the days it does decide to show its face.

Photo by Edurne Tx on Unsplash

Sleep and Confusion

Pistol, the small tabby cat, sits outside my window by the hammock.  Waiting and looking as if he will jump in at some point and take a long cat nap.  A cat’s nap is a long time.  Why do we use “cat nap” to indicate short periods of time?  My cats can sleep for hours, but if I want to take a human nap it’s usually only for about 30 minutes or less. Shouldn’t we be using “people nap” instead?

A good nights sleep is something that eludes me. I start falling asleep during the day at odd times. Confusion appears after taking a nap. I lose track of time and think it’s later than it actually is. This worries me, as I observe my mother when she wakes from a nap. She looks at me with a baffled expression, unsure who I am, where we are, or what day it is. She then waits for me to tell her the answers. She also has illusions, such as yesterday when she wanted me to concur with her that the blanket on her bed was brown.  It was.  But she thought there was black in it, too.  There wasn’t.

Watching her I realize how short the time I have left here is, and how much shorter it is for her.  Does she realize that?  Is that why she retreats into a world where she doesn’t have to deal with haunting memories of the past or the frightening future?  She lives for each moment, each second.  She is guided by what the people around her tell her and our attitudes about life.  Consequently, the best thing we can do for her is to be happy with our own lives and hers.

Written December 29, 2021

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Reflections on My Mother’s Journey with Dementia

by Leigh time to read: 3 min
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