Today's ingredient is, the dementia diagnosis, through the eyes of a family member.
(All names have been changed to protect privacy)
We took dad to see his doctor today.
He's been acting so weird. Yesterday he called me Claire. Claire is my mom's name and mom has been dead for 15 years.
No dad, it's me, Susie. Don't you remember?
He shook his head and his eyes cleared. Of course I remember who you are. I was there when you came into this world, for Christ's sake.
Ughhh, not again. A few weeks ago he got up at 6am and got ready for work. He's been retired since 2003.
He laughed when he told me about it. How silly, huh. I guess that's what happens when you've been a workin' man for 50 years.
A few days ago he forgot that he was cooking eggs and left the pan over a hot burner. He didn't remember until the smoke started filling up his kitchen. The smoke detector was blaring through his house and his neighbor ran over to see if he was ok.
The tension is high as we sit in the examining room waiting for Dr. Charles.
Finally after what feels like forever, he comes through the door.
So, what brings you in today, Dan?
Oh, it's nothing. So I forget a few things here and there, who doesn't. She's making more out of this than it is, he accuses, pointing belligerently at me.
I'm sorry, dad. I just want to make sure everything's ok.
Dr. Charles goes through a whole slew of questions.
Dad gets some right but he gets more wrong.
He is getting more and more frustrated with each wrong answer.
At the end of the appointment, I send dad out to the lobby with my husband and look at the doc, waiting for the worst.
Sure enough, it is the worst news. The absolute last thing I wanted to hear. The one thing that we can not fix.
I'm sorry, Susie, your dad is showing all the classic signs of dementia.
By the way he answered these questions I would say we are looking at an early stage 2.
Dan is going to need more help going forward and eventually he will need full time care. It's probably best if he doesn't live alone very much longer.
Take some time, wrap your brain around it, talk to your family, give yourself a minute to adjust. We can meet up again next week.
I can help you talk through some options when you come back.
I spent a good 15 minutes in that office after Dr. Charles left, crying my eyes out.
Then I pulled it together and walked out to the lobby.
My husband could tell I had been crying. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I give him the slightest of nods and he drops his head.
I'm sorry, he whispers.
What'd he say, Susie? Dad asks.
He said it's dementia, dad. It's not just forgetting a few things here and there like we'd hoped. There is a reason you have been forgetting and it's going to get worse. I'm so so sorry.
My dad walked over to the window and stood there staring at the rain that had just begun to fall.
I walked over and took his hand. I could feel him shaking and when I looked over, I realized he was crying.
I had never seen my dad cry except the day we buried my mom.
It's gonna' be ok, dad. We've got you. We are all gonna' be right here for you. You are not alone.
By the look in dad's eyes, I could see how very alone he felt. This disease is not something we would travel together. His road as the patient would be completely different than mine as his caregiver.
I wrapped him in my arms and just held him for a minute and then we all walked out of that office. All of us lost in our own thoughts.
On the way home dad insists on stopping for ice cream. We swing home and grab the kids and then we all head out for pizza and ice cream.
It is a completely normal activity on a completely abnormal day.
I wonder how many more normal nights we will have with my dad.
*Countless people have endured some semblance of this same story.
Countless people have felt the sadness and the dread; either as a caregiver or the newly diagnosed patient.
If you are one of those people, please know you are not alone.
There is a whole community ready and willing to help you in any way they can.
Please reach out.
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