The Convoluted Brain or Down the Rabbit Hole
The first time Mom said to me 'ice cream is a good source of dairy' I thought she was joking. After she said that to me a few days in a row, I realized she believes it. With frontotemporal dementia, Mom's brain confabulates - basically makes shit up that it doesn't understand. The best way I understand it is, tissues in the frontal and temporal parts of the brain begin to shrink. Kinda like swiss cheese. So the brain makes shit up - ice cream is a good source of dairy and should be consumed daily.
Mom is never quite sure about the day or date, so she writes 'today' on the calendar for today. But that changes tomorrow, so she has 'today' written throughout the calendar (and of course forgets to cross off the day that is passing). Her brain has stopped making stuff up on this one, a part of her knows she just no longer knows.
My initial reaction when first going down the rabbit hole of dementia, was to tell Mom the truth. Correct her so she would know, remember. But what really is the truth? Does it matter if she thinks she hasn't seen a relative in months and months when the 'truth' is it was a few weeks ago? The only thing Voyageur and I correct her on now is the date/day of the week. She has appointments, friends come over the same day every week. She asks, we tell her. If she says the sky is chartreuse, that it's night when I believe it to be morning and ice cream is a good source of dairy, that is the truth.
The path of dementia is scary. It's scary because it's unknown. Even looking up all the possible ways of how this could go, we just don't know. There are days when Mom is so with it, I forget she has dementia at all. On those days I ask her life advice, should I move cross country (among others). The day she and I talked about my moving back to where I had friends, she was Mom. She knew I would need my friends. These days she asks if I know anybody where I live. I tell her yes, I have friends nearby. Sometimes she remembers I lived here before, other times not. All she wants to know is if I'm happy, safe and secure. I assure her I am.
In the beginning it was only in her eyes I could see she no longer had clarity. Now, at times, I hear it in her voice. Moments she is trying to capture, memories that are just beyond her reach. Voyageur and I see it as our job to bridge the gap. To travel the rabbit hole with her, making sense of the nonsensical (or is it making the nonsensical sensical?), letting her know she is not crazy.
The only truth that exists is the love, time and laughter shared. Oh, and now I'm gonna grab a spoon, some ice cream and dig in.
Back at ya Voyageur.
Mom is never quite sure about the day or date, so she writes 'today' on the calendar for today. But that changes tomorrow, so she has 'today' written throughout the calendar (and of course forgets to cross off the day that is passing). Her brain has stopped making stuff up on this one, a part of her knows she just no longer knows.
My initial reaction when first going down the rabbit hole of dementia, was to tell Mom the truth. Correct her so she would know, remember. But what really is the truth? Does it matter if she thinks she hasn't seen a relative in months and months when the 'truth' is it was a few weeks ago? The only thing Voyageur and I correct her on now is the date/day of the week. She has appointments, friends come over the same day every week. She asks, we tell her. If she says the sky is chartreuse, that it's night when I believe it to be morning and ice cream is a good source of dairy, that is the truth.
The path of dementia is scary. It's scary because it's unknown. Even looking up all the possible ways of how this could go, we just don't know. There are days when Mom is so with it, I forget she has dementia at all. On those days I ask her life advice, should I move cross country (among others). The day she and I talked about my moving back to where I had friends, she was Mom. She knew I would need my friends. These days she asks if I know anybody where I live. I tell her yes, I have friends nearby. Sometimes she remembers I lived here before, other times not. All she wants to know is if I'm happy, safe and secure. I assure her I am.
In the beginning it was only in her eyes I could see she no longer had clarity. Now, at times, I hear it in her voice. Moments she is trying to capture, memories that are just beyond her reach. Voyageur and I see it as our job to bridge the gap. To travel the rabbit hole with her, making sense of the nonsensical (or is it making the nonsensical sensical?), letting her know she is not crazy.
The only truth that exists is the love, time and laughter shared. Oh, and now I'm gonna grab a spoon, some ice cream and dig in.
Back at ya Voyageur.