Barbara Diamond is a journalist living in Jerusalem, Israel. She has been a political activist on behalf of Israel and the Jewish people for over fifty years, having participated in political and humanitarian missions to Ethiopia, the former Soviet Union, China, and Europe to meet with world leaders on matters of concern. She has written over 100 articles for the Jerusalem Post and on her blog at The Times of Israel, hosted an English radio talk show in Jerusalem and continues mentoring others to pass on the torch of responsibility. You can reach her at barbara@thedementiadiary.com and visit her site at thedementiadiary.com.
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Is this experience dissimilar to that of a parent with an unruly child? With a bit of luck, the child has more than one parent in the house to keep an eye on them-perhaps even extended family or siblings.
Kooky is a loving word selected to describe Hubby’s first-cousin. I searched for others, but they were harsh and judgmental, so I kept the original.
I came out of my bedroom to find Hubby and Violet sitting on the living room sofa as the sun was rising. They were talking softly to each other as Violet was trying to explain (for the umpteenth time) to Hubby why the doors were locked.
Fortunately for me, I met Hubby after life-sobering events took him to a new and more mature chapter in his life.
He kept repeating this phrase. Our aide had been telling him that she did not know what he was talking about. That was a big mistake. Never admit that we are that dumb! Hubby then looks down on us and gets angry.
In older people, neglecting the teeth can be very serious. An infected tooth left to fester, can bloom into an even more aggressive infection which could go to the heart.
Yesterday, Violet and Hubby were sitting in the living room and he was directing her to reposition items on the cocktail tables. His brain is fascinated with his version of perfection, while I could not be less interested in his attention to such details of life.
Closer to the truth, however, may be that I am avoiding car-stress. I no longer have the ability to deal with additional, perceived, required, but avoidable, demands placed upon me.
Concerned about what I might find when I returned home, I asked the husband of the couple who drove me home to please come with me to possibly help diffuse the situation. It never dawned on me that Hubby might think that this was the boyfriend… oops.
At 8:15 AM, a booming voice at my door announced Where is Barbara? I am here, I responded from my stupor. No! My Barbara! He responded. I thought I was his Barbara.
Hubby went on to explain the poisoning in detail. She had taken a long time in the kitchen putting the water into the glass. Therefore, it was obvious that she had put other things in it as well.
We all repeat ourselves. We do it partly because it is easy, and partly because we don’t realize that we have said the same things before. It is all a matter of degree.
I ask April to focus on her reaction to these moments of disappointment. Her hubby cannot process the information that she gives him when she asks him to fulfill a task. He cannot remember what he is told.
It is hard to respond when one has no clue what is intended to be communicated. Saying I don’t understand is a bit cruel because he cannot explain what he intended.
Having assessed the lump as less than life-threatening, Dr. N. kindly used the opportunity to administer the standardized Memory Test of which I have spoken. The same questions posed to Hubby, as in the years gone by, but different answers this time.
The necessity to advise your loved one’s doctor of the changing realities, may present itself as an awkward situation to navigate. This problem does not only apply with family of those with memory loss or dementia.
Perhaps I was in a rush, or my mind was elsewhere, but at least one of my pills, probably a vitamin D 1000, went into my larynx and blocked my airways. I began choking, and it became worse and worse.
After two years of Covid-19 lock-downs, I must admit that the superficiality of my old mantra is more than embarrassing. It was a product of a Beverly Hills business in the world of fashion.
There is only so much that one’s brain can deal with when assaulted with non-stop noise. In our case, each query requires an answer, and often the same one many times over.
Hubby was really enjoying sharing his memory of a nighttime adventure that never happened. He was smiling and decided that I had not fully understood… so repeated it again.
It has surprised me to learn that many of my friends have no idea what medications their spouses take each day.
The number of patients who enter a hospital with an entirely different complaint, who are then put on a catheter, which then results in sepsis which kills them, is shocking.
When I was truly unable to cope with caring for Hubby 24/7, social services came to assess him and decided that I was the one who needed the most help: Time to myself. Time to breathe.
I find myself laughing out loud. Hubby does not go on to read the articles, just the titles. And yet, he is actually right. Much of the news is not really new or even news-worthy.
Hubby's avoidance tactics were so frustrating, that I began drawing a big heart on our paper calendar every time he was willing to enter the bathroom and face the ‘trauma’ of a shower.
Immediately after the nurses hooked Hubby up to all the monitors, he demanded to leave. He pulled out all the leads to the machines and became furious when no one would listen to him.
As a businessman with three retails stores in southern California for 21 years, Hubby always walked around with a substantial amount of cash on his person. The fact that he now walks nowhere unassisted does – not daunt his imagination with its delusions of freedom.
Eighteen pills in a day made it a tremendous challenge for the doctor to resolve Hubby’s problem which could have any of a number of root causes.
When friends with whom I meet on Zoom every Thursday share their thoughts about the possibility of a “plus side” of caring for a loved one with Dementia, the reactions of course vary, depending on the quality of the relationship prior to the present decline.
It is my understanding that trainees in the spy game are not just taught how to perform their missions, but also how to withstand torture if they should be caught.
Whatever the medical explanation is, it affects most dementia patients. Even at its beginning stages it creates some difficulties in communicating.
Tonight, Violet was trying to help Hubby change his clothes. Whatever she did “wrong” in his estimation was cause for him to become furious and frighten her. This is not the first time she has seen him upset.
As concerning as it is for the patient, it is the spouse or caregiver whose life will be altered most profoundly. The luxury of having a mate who took on responsibilities in the past, which they may not be able to handle in the future life, slowly begin to dawn on us.
You are not in charge! You may think you are, but you are not! He accuses.
These situations are really challenging during waking hours, but at 2:30 AM one must muster their faculties to handle it properly.
Having exhausted myself, I turned off the lights to fall into a heavy sleep. A 2 a.m. lights-out was normal. An even later night meant that I would be dysfunctional in the morning. Essentially, I was in escape mode.
Major complication: Hubby was not following the context of the event, and decided to verbalize his contrary opinions to what he thought they were expressing.
One problem with Ologists (I will give them a capital “O” in this chapter as I have invented a proper-noun) is their tunnel-vision. Each has become a respected specialist in their field, but it is rare that they bother to consider the “whole” patient when assessing a course of action.
With the decline of memory and the increase of stress, the days in recent years were often difficult. There was little joy in a condition which was becoming more and more complex.
We were both upset to distraction. Yelling at one another accomplished absolutely nothing and it took us hours to calm down, each blaming the other.
Hubby had mixed feelings about royalty. On the one hand, they fascinated him... On the other hand, he resented terribly that there were tiers of royals who by the luck of their birth, received benefits ad infinitum to which “commoners” were not entitled.
Years of love and caring can be hard to remember when your reality changes. Yet, one internalizes the commitment.
I have chosen to release the chapters in the order they were written, to fully explain the changes which occur with time both for the patient and for the caregiver.


