World Alzheimer’s Day – 2017
I haven’t been blogging much lately. It’s not because I haven’t wanted to. I have. And generally, I still have a lot to say.
But my brain isn’t functioning too well, and it gets in the way of getting the thoughts (and feelings) from my brain onto my screen. I start plenty of posts but they simply don’t end up saying what I want. And so I don’t even start to write. It’s easier that way because as a writer, there isn’t much worse than not being able to get the words out. Don’t mistake this as writer’s block. It’s not.
The problem I have is called brain fog (aka cognitive dysfunction) and I currently have two chronic medical conditions which make this a daily reality. Then there are several medications I take which contribute to the severity of my brain fog. And let me just say for those who have never had it, that the term ‘brain fog’ drastically underestimates the issue.
It was only a few days ago that I tempted the derision of another by raising the issue with my doctor (again). My brain fog has been so bad lately that I feared some type of permanent brain injury had somehow taken place, or perhaps even early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease. (There’s enough Alzheimer’s Disease in my family to know that it could well be a reality for me some time ahead).
My doctor told me to take a multivitamin. There is a lot I could say about her response, but I won’t because well, this post isn’t about her.
Regular (yes, I realise there has to be something to read to become regular) readers will remember that my mother lives with Alzheimer’s Disease. You can read previous posts that address this aspect of her, and my life here and here, as a starter. What’s important to know is that World Alzheimer’s Day is important to me. It’s right up there as far as awareness days go. Not just because of my mother’s current fight, but also the past fights of an uncle and my maternal grandmother, and of course, that one day this may well be my fight too.
Mum has been living in a secure facility directed at dementia care for nine months now. In that time, I have witnessed her fight become more intense. I have watched as she now struggles to recognise anyone but me. Sometimes she knows I am her daughter, but other times she is adamant I’m not her daughter, and that instead, I am a long-standing friend. Then other times I’m not altogether sure just who she thinks I am, except it is clear that I am of meaning to her. Only a couple of times have I got the sense that she had no idea who I am. Yes, all of that leaves me sad. I am grieving for someone who stands in front of me.
All of that leaves me thinking about why I do what I do?
Why do I spend time with Mum most days, often while I am in a great deal of pain, and often when brain fog is leaving me struggling to even speak with her (and/or the staff)?. Why is it important to me to be there for her, regardless of what physical, emotional or mental toll that has on me? Or simply when I could be doing something else?
I am the only person in her life that she actually recognises now. I find this terribly hard. Each time I have the realisation that she doesn’t recognise someone, it hurts. Each time she tells me she doesn’t remember being married, or the man she was married to, it hurts. I find that one particularly painful, simply because she was married for 53 years (to my Dad) and her brain has shut out all those memories.
But I have a unique opportunity to attempt to keep those memories alive, whether that maybe in telling her about aspects of her life, or simply keeping the memories alive in me. I can do that for her. And I can be her voice in a world she finds increasingly bewildering.
Imagine if you knew only one person. That person would be so important to us, and we would probably rely on them a great deal. I would hate for my mother to not have that one person, and so I do what I do for her sake. For her sake, to have a person in her life.
Realistically though, I know there will come a time when she no longer recognises me, but I am determined to be there anyway. Determined to be that person for her, even if/when she isn’t aware.
The truth is though, that I do what I do for me too. A year or so ago I would have told you that I am there for Mum for the sake of my late father. Doing what I thought he would want. But I know now that I also do it for my sake.
I have never had a good relationship with Mum. Actually, we now have the best relationship we’ve ever had. This is my opportunity to have a relationship with my mother. It might not be the sort you would hope for, but we have a connection. It is unique, it is largely one-sided, but it is something I have never had.
I’m not making up for lost time, but rather simply having what I am fortunate enough to be given at this time. Perhaps neither of us were ready for a relationship before, but now we both benefit. It is for her sake, and for mine.
And with that note, I will take my multivitamin (because I’m just a little scared not to).
Thanks for reading