As a professional in the field of aging, Sara had seen it all—until her own mother broke her hip at the age of 88 and became profoundly confused, unable to live in her own home. Join Sara on her journey through the strangeness that is dementia while trying to make sense of it all and finding humor in the details. [Editor's note: Sara no longer contributes to Silver Planet, but we have made her archived blog entries available as a service to our readers.]
I have been in the aging business for decades and have interacted with hundreds of people living with dementia, but I was stopped in my tracks when my mother began talking about dead relatives as if they were still alive and seeing things that were not there. One day I knew my mother as an intelligent, caring, take-charge person, and the next day that person had disappeared and been replaced by a profoundly confused person. I realized later that the change was probably happening all along; I just didn’t recognize it because we lived 1,600 miles apart.
Years ago I facilitated a support group for the Alzheimer’s Association. I remember one interesting meeting when everyone told funny stories about how Alzheimer’s disease had affected their lives—black comedy, perhaps.
One story stuck with me. A daughter described how her mother continually lost her false teeth. Sooner or later, the dentures would mysteriously show up. Turns out her mother kept her teeth, when not in her mouth, in an almost empty carton of ice cream in the freezer.
Last weekend I heard my mother talking to someone while she was on the pot. (I always leave the room to give her a little privacy.) When I walked in, she had the cardboard toilet paper tube next to her ear. She was using it like a phone. “Hello, hello, hello,” she said. I immediately thought of the teeth in the ice cream, closed the door, and began to laugh. I told my wonderful husband, and he laughed too. I chose not to focus on the tragic aspects of the episode and instead see it for what it was: funny, human, endearing.
I’m still patting myself on the back for making that choice.
(Note: If you have Alzheimer’s disease, or care about someone who does, check out your local Alzheimer’s Association chapter. Go to www.alz.org for local contact information.)
By Sara Myers
The Good Enough Daughter Blog
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