Complex Numbers

Mindless

Gotta take a break from the blog challenge. It's a great activity, but I have a backlog of blog fodder to share.

For instance:

https://www.marketwatch.com/story/avoid-these-3-traps-when-talking-to-someone-wi...

Avoid these 3 traps when talking to someone with dementia

I've noted this before, but for any newcomers, I lost both of my parents to long bouts of dementia. All told, I spent 20 years of my life dealing with one or the other. There are few things that frighten me more than the prospect of losing my mind (though I'm sure some would say that's already happened). Compared to that, death seems easy.

Everyone dies. What's hard is that some people die while their bodies live on.

Before you ask, no, I'm not all that concerned about genetic predisposition. I have no idea what my genetics are, and I prefer to keep it that way.

Anyway, I wish I'd seen something like this article before my parents started slipping away.

You’ve got great social skills. You speak clearly and listen well. Everyone loves your engaging personality.

Obviously, it wasn't aimed at me, anyway.

Prepare to encounter speakers who repeat themselves (asking the same question every few minutes) and make illogical statements or faulty observations. Their emotions can swing wildly from moment to moment, leaving you wondering what could’ve triggered an angry outburst or crying spell.

This is true.

Say the individual ponders the whereabouts of their spouse. If you point out that their spouse has died, that may be true but unhelpful.

That seems obvious, but I can be oblivious. Now, I may have spent my life in the Regretium mines of Regretistan, but the one regret that stands out to me above all others is the time when my father did exactly that. And I answered without thinking. Or feeling.

My parents had been together for nearly 60 years when my mom died. They weren't in what I'd now call a functional relationship, and yeah, I'm dealing with the psychological repercussions of that (just like everyone else is), but they stuck together anyway. When my dad had no choice but to seek a suitable care facility for her, he went to visit her every goddamn day.

I can only hope that he quickly forgot the incident, along with my name (which is something that he was always kind of fuzzy on anyway) and, later, everything else. But I never did.

Yeah, I'm putting this out here in hopes that I can move on. Still, I could have been better. It wasn't out of anger or frustration, or anything like that - at least I don't think it was - but rather just thoughtlessness on my part. I wrote here some time ago that I feel I should work on being more compassionate; this is why.

I'll say this, though. Some people think that Alzheimer's and similar conditions strips a person to their bare essence. I've seen a lot of people with dementia getting angry, lashing out, becoming violent and hateful, like their public face is but a thin veneer hiding some horrid monster. Honestly, I don't know - I think we're all part caring and good, and part spiteful and angry, all at the same time. We are large; we contain multitudes. But in all the times I visited my father in his final years - which, admittedly, weren't as many as I should have - I never saw his dark side (and when he was in his prime, he definitely had a dark side). I'd sit down while they were eating, and he'd offer me some of his meager food. One time he saw I wasn't wearing a coat and insisted I take his. This was true even when he didn't know who I was.

Why am I terrified of dementia? Well, partly because when I'm weighed in the same balance, I'll be found sorely wanting.