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| Dad |
After the fall-out with mum – things gradually got back to normal. I think perhaps one or two of mum’s friends had had a word with her, because she was smiling with dad again, and seemed to be coping better with him than ever. He certainly was in better form and back to his jovial, daft ways.
I have come to realise that mum, will always, from here on in, will be up and down with dad. She knows that his illness is only going one way, and it will get much worse. We don’t know how long it will take for dad to begin to really deteriorate, but we are expecting it to be perhaps a couple more years. Until then, however, we are all just living a day at a time. There is no room, nor time to argue, time is something that we don’t have. So, what better way to spend whatever time is left of dad as we know him, than laughing and making more memories.
Looking at the whole scenario now, I have to say, I never ever expected my dad to be the one who would be afflicted with dementia. I wouldn’t have been surprised if mum had been diagnosed, but never dad. It just shows that anyone can fall foul of the disease, and it is a hateful SOB. I know that he is deteriorating slowly at the minute, and I’m hoping the tablets that the Consultant put him on are at least stretching out the inevitable. We have never mentioned the word ‘dementia’ to him, I wanted to say so many times, dad you’re not remembering things because … but Mum in her wisdom thinks that it would upset him too much, or that he would think we were just telling him that, and in turn he would get defensive and paranoid. So the ‘D’ word, is never mentioned. I guess it’s up to each individual family to assess what they think is best for them and their loved one. I actually think he is aware of his condition, but for it to be said out loud, to him, that may be a different story.
He is definitely becoming more paranoid. Any time that mum and I are just talking, he butts in with ‘What are you two talking about me for?’. He has become very ‘nosey,’ which, in fact, was never a trait of my dad. He follows mum or me around the house, literally looking over our shoulders, especially if we’re on our phones texting. Mum used to get frustrated at him but now she’ll automatically say, ‘David love, what is it you need?’ He’ll then again ask if we’re talking about him, and when we show him what we’re doing he seems content again, and goes back to his recliner. Mum has reconciled herself to the fact that sometimes dad just won’t get out of bed and apparently the diabetic nurse who was in one morning, tried to cajole him out. He was having none of it! It ended up with the nurse getting frustrated and dad then deciding he wanted to be a baby and made all these baby noises at the nurse! Mum happened to be on the phone with me at the time and she was mortified, but I told her to let the nurse get on with it instead of her. I have to admit, I had a giggle at this cantankerous old man making an idiot out of the nurse and himself.
Some days are worse than others, but again, that is what is to be expected with this disease which ravishes the very brain cells of the victim. I do sometimes, when I’m worn out myself, or when I’m not in such a buoyant mood, wonder what the future holds for my funny, intelligent, caring, strong daddy. Will he become incontinent? Get violent? Lose his speech and faculties. Christ, even the thought of it literally makes me feel weary and sick.
Shortly after his vascular dementia was diagnosed, a routine scan showed a mass on his pancreas. I remember talking with his oncology consultant when he rang me to explain the results. I know that pancreatic cancer has a very high mortality rate and before I knew it, I was telling the consultant that I hoped if it was cancer, that it would take him quickly. At that stage I was trying to get my head around the diagnosis and was quite a mess if I admit so myself. I couldn’t bear to think, even back then, that the dad I knew, the man mum had been with for 65 years and married for 59, was going to change and become a shell. I wanted him to go quickly, not have this awful disease take a piece of his brain day by day. I even got really uptight at our disgusting legislation, which unlike Switzerland, won’t even consider end of life treatment here. As is often said, one wouldn’t let an animal suffer like that.
The day came for dads’ scope to try to see exactly what this mass was. I have now started going into all appointments, as mum is finding that her concentration and memory for details is lacking. I’m putting it down to the constant stress. When the consultant came out to me, he apologised for the length of time he had me waiting. Lesley, I’m not sure what has happened, but I’ve scoped right around the pancreas and there’s nothing there! I could have hugged the poor man. Of course, when told, mum attributed it to a miracle and the power of prayer, and although I’m not religious, I have to say, I said a wee ‘Thank you’ to whoever, whatever, is watching over us.
So, you now have a little insight into this condition called vascular dementia. It will eventually ravish the patient, but it doesn’t need to be a critical situation straight away. I’m sure every family is different, but I’ve found coping with it, acceptance of it, easier than I thought. For me, I’d rather enjoy every day I have with him, laugh when possible, be there for mum as support, and just try to live as normal a life as possible. Easier said than done, for no matter how much of a positive outlook one has, it most certainly is tiring, frustrating and ultimately just very very sad.
I will continue to ask for help when needed, continue to love this adorable man until either his dying day, or indeed mine, for tomorrow is promised to no-one. If you are going through similar, take comfort that I, as another carer would be there for you all the way in spirit.
I have come to realise that mum, will always, from here on in, will be up and down with dad. She knows that his illness is only going one way, and it will get much worse. We don’t know how long it will take for dad to begin to really deteriorate, but we are expecting it to be perhaps a couple more years. Until then, however, we are all just living a day at a time. There is no room, nor time to argue, time is something that we don’t have. So, what better way to spend whatever time is left of dad as we know him, than laughing and making more memories.
Looking at the whole scenario now, I have to say, I never ever expected my dad to be the one who would be afflicted with dementia. I wouldn’t have been surprised if mum had been diagnosed, but never dad. It just shows that anyone can fall foul of the disease, and it is a hateful SOB. I know that he is deteriorating slowly at the minute, and I’m hoping the tablets that the Consultant put him on are at least stretching out the inevitable. We have never mentioned the word ‘dementia’ to him, I wanted to say so many times, dad you’re not remembering things because … but Mum in her wisdom thinks that it would upset him too much, or that he would think we were just telling him that, and in turn he would get defensive and paranoid. So the ‘D’ word, is never mentioned. I guess it’s up to each individual family to assess what they think is best for them and their loved one. I actually think he is aware of his condition, but for it to be said out loud, to him, that may be a different story.
He is definitely becoming more paranoid. Any time that mum and I are just talking, he butts in with ‘What are you two talking about me for?’. He has become very ‘nosey,’ which, in fact, was never a trait of my dad. He follows mum or me around the house, literally looking over our shoulders, especially if we’re on our phones texting. Mum used to get frustrated at him but now she’ll automatically say, ‘David love, what is it you need?’ He’ll then again ask if we’re talking about him, and when we show him what we’re doing he seems content again, and goes back to his recliner. Mum has reconciled herself to the fact that sometimes dad just won’t get out of bed and apparently the diabetic nurse who was in one morning, tried to cajole him out. He was having none of it! It ended up with the nurse getting frustrated and dad then deciding he wanted to be a baby and made all these baby noises at the nurse! Mum happened to be on the phone with me at the time and she was mortified, but I told her to let the nurse get on with it instead of her. I have to admit, I had a giggle at this cantankerous old man making an idiot out of the nurse and himself.
Some days are worse than others, but again, that is what is to be expected with this disease which ravishes the very brain cells of the victim. I do sometimes, when I’m worn out myself, or when I’m not in such a buoyant mood, wonder what the future holds for my funny, intelligent, caring, strong daddy. Will he become incontinent? Get violent? Lose his speech and faculties. Christ, even the thought of it literally makes me feel weary and sick.
Shortly after his vascular dementia was diagnosed, a routine scan showed a mass on his pancreas. I remember talking with his oncology consultant when he rang me to explain the results. I know that pancreatic cancer has a very high mortality rate and before I knew it, I was telling the consultant that I hoped if it was cancer, that it would take him quickly. At that stage I was trying to get my head around the diagnosis and was quite a mess if I admit so myself. I couldn’t bear to think, even back then, that the dad I knew, the man mum had been with for 65 years and married for 59, was going to change and become a shell. I wanted him to go quickly, not have this awful disease take a piece of his brain day by day. I even got really uptight at our disgusting legislation, which unlike Switzerland, won’t even consider end of life treatment here. As is often said, one wouldn’t let an animal suffer like that.
The day came for dads’ scope to try to see exactly what this mass was. I have now started going into all appointments, as mum is finding that her concentration and memory for details is lacking. I’m putting it down to the constant stress. When the consultant came out to me, he apologised for the length of time he had me waiting. Lesley, I’m not sure what has happened, but I’ve scoped right around the pancreas and there’s nothing there! I could have hugged the poor man. Of course, when told, mum attributed it to a miracle and the power of prayer, and although I’m not religious, I have to say, I said a wee ‘Thank you’ to whoever, whatever, is watching over us.
So, you now have a little insight into this condition called vascular dementia. It will eventually ravish the patient, but it doesn’t need to be a critical situation straight away. I’m sure every family is different, but I’ve found coping with it, acceptance of it, easier than I thought. For me, I’d rather enjoy every day I have with him, laugh when possible, be there for mum as support, and just try to live as normal a life as possible. Easier said than done, for no matter how much of a positive outlook one has, it most certainly is tiring, frustrating and ultimately just very very sad.
I will continue to ask for help when needed, continue to love this adorable man until either his dying day, or indeed mine, for tomorrow is promised to no-one. If you are going through similar, take comfort that I, as another carer would be there for you all the way in spirit.
If you are having doubts as to whether your loved one is showing signs of dementia or Alzheimer’s, run it passed someone, the quicker a diagnosis is made the better. There are so many charities out there, The Alzheimer’s Society, Help the Aged, Elderly care, or even get in contact with Anthony via TPQ and he can get a message to me. You are Not Alone; don’t ever think you are.
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| Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer currently involved in community work. |
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