Shake Your Head, Darling

The early symptoms of dementia can throw you for a loop.

Here you are, with a person you’ve known for years.  They look like themselves.  They sound like themselves.  But they start doing and saying things that make you stop and ask, “Who the heck are you!?”

You spend a lot of time shaking your head.  Confused.  Going over things in your mind.  Asking yourself questions like, “Didn’t we just talk about that?”  Asking your loved one the same questions.

Living with someone who is losing touch with reality throws your own sense of reality out of whack.  Before we really knew something was really wrong with Mom, she was telling stories we didn’t know whether or not to believe.  There was the one about the pastor at her church saying bad things about her behind her back.  Or even more unsettling, about the other pastor who was romatically interested in her (and I’m watering that one down BIG TIME.)  Eventually she believed that Dad was trying to kill her.  And after she moved into the Alzheimer’s home she was convinced that one of the other residents walked the halls with a little baby in her arms.  When we visited she would point at this 90-something year old woman and whisper, “That’s the one who just had the baby.”

How do you talk to someone whose mind works – or doesn’t work – like that?  The natural urge when you hear something ridiculous, or just plain wrong, is to correct.  When you find you aren’t making any headway with your loved one, you shake your head.  Throw up your hands.  Walk away in hurt and anger.

At some point, though, you quit shaking your head.  You stop expecting logic.  You give up on anything they say making sense.  You can feel defeated, but oddly enough, that’s when things can start to get better…in a way.

 

Read Full Post »

The Broken Heart

Dementia is heartbreaking.

It is so difficult to lose someone you love a piece at a time.  When someone dies, there is closure.  You go through the stages of grief:  denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  But when you love someone with dementia, you can get stuck in a “denial, anger, bargaining and depression” loop.

At least I did.  It is impossible to describe to someone the relentless feeling of sorrow and loss that you live with every single day.  It’s an underlying sadness and loneliness that defines your entire world.  And you don’t feel like you can talk about it.  You’re certain nobody can really understand.  Come to think of it, when dealing with grief and dementia there is another stage thrown in there somewhere:  fear.  There is fear of the unknown, of what’s happening to your loved one, and even of whether or not you are going to be able to cope with it all without completely falling apart.

I write this offering today just to let you know – I get it.  There are some sadnesses that are too big for words.  If you are experiencing this heartbreak, I hope it helps to know that even though it may feel like it, you are not really alone.  People do care, but they don’t know what to do.  They want to help, but they don’t know how.  Our culture doesn’t know what to do with heartbreak.  We like to fix things.  And part of the heartbreak of dementia is that it is not fixable.

My mom, who was so wise before her illness, once told me that there are times in your life that you just have to get through.  There aren’t always solutions.  But we don’t have to get through it alone. There is One who loves us, who is “gentle and humble in heart”, who promises to be there for us through all the heartbreaks of life.  He truly does understand, even when we don’t.

Read Full Post »