The Sands Of Time
The decline of a person who has memory loss is slow and subtle. But like the sands of time, it is unavoidable. When a friend whose husband was far more advanced than mine told me that her experiences would happen to us as well, I was sure she must be mistaken. It is a form of denial. I know that we are all prone to hoping that we might be the exception to the rule. By the way, I have actually decided that death is not something which I intend to experience. Thus, I am actively working on the ultimate denial. In truth, I suspect that we all have this essence about us. It helps us to actually face the next day with optimism in spite of our mortal coils.
Hubby goes to his memory-day-care center, Melabev, and the staff there have mentioned his decline over the past six years. But somehow, the past year has been the worst. Of course, how foolish of me to have expected otherwise? For those of us who live with a loved one in decline, we rarely remember exactly when specific issues worsened. We may not notice that the same person who complained in the identical syntax about a specific experience, over and over, is no longer complaining at all, because he/she does not now remember the incident which used to irritate them. Who ever thought that we would long for them to return to their former complaining-self? Everything in life is relative. The process of caring for someone in decline, is proof-positive that even less than optimal experiences can be appreciated in retrospect, once they disappear from view.
Many people have asked me whether the memory of a dementia patient can improve. It would be unfair of me to suggest that it can. There are cases which have come to my attention, where the memory loss was caused by side issues such as alcoholism or addiction. Sometimes when they are resolved, the memory may improve. But beware of those promising you a turn-around if you purchase a particular pill or herbal remedy. The odds are that they are trying to sell you something akin to the snake-oil of the wild-west. We need to stay focused on the real causes and effects of our loved one’s condition, and in the process, stay focused on our own well-being.
Medications prescribed for dementia, are not expected to reverse the dementia, but to improve the quality of life for the patient and their caregivers. Those who blithely brag that they don’t bother giving medications to their loved-ones are not heroes at all. Their own lives are made more difficult as a result, and the final years of the patient will not be as calm and gentle as they might be. It is not a foregone conclusion that the later years must be terribly disruptive and unpleasant. Ignoring that which is on offer is not something to laud.
Hubby still loves to sing, but there is a bit less singing than we enjoyed a year ago. He still likes to watch a good movie on television, but he never noticed that the action film we were watching last night was in Japanese with Hebrew subtitles. He still loves to have a conversation,but he neither fully processes and/or hears most of our responses. His legs do not have the strength that they had a year ago, and his balance is poor. He desperately wants to dance with Violet or myself, but we know it will be fraught with danger if we allow it.
Still, he loves to shave himself daily, enjoys the newspaper with his morning coffee and his six ginger snaps, revels in the music of Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., and now Paul Anka as well. Hence, we are all-in to make his present as pleasant a gift as we can.
It is quite impossible for us as caregivers, to be the same people after this caring experience, whom we once were. I can speak only for myself when I share that the me who will remain at the end of this journey, will appreciate every second that life still affords me. Nothing will ever be taken for-granted again.
The sand is inevitably, slowly dropping through its glass vial, not just for Hubby, but indeed for us all.
