Dementia

You have to be amazed at the smarts a brain has for compensating with it's deteriorating self. A big smile is worth a thousand coherent thoughts. And a hug worth millions.

When you live with someone who has dementia and watch the illness progress, it is at times heart breaking. You eventually get over the initial shock, and you leave the unease and anger for the mix ups behind. Discussions which involve decisions and concepts of accountability can be lively debates. You can have a thorough discussion about something and reach a fine understanding, yet ten minutes later it has vanished into the ether. Does this make these occasions less worthwhile? Shared concerns for the well being of family economics fall by the wayside as the hurdles of dealing with these everyday concerns become too high to tackle. You begin to deal with the real important issues such as fixing the mixed up television, or straightening that ornament on the shelf. Consumerism comes to a standstill and life by necessity lives by strange perspectives, though often nerve racking.

Your employer, for the few hours you still work each week, may come to understand the strange phone calls he receives. They very from queries as to your whereabouts when you grocery shop to pleas for a wage increase because his employee is so valuable. You finally remove his number from your phone. Ah, the phone calls, some when your away and some when you nap. Your friends and children at least realize that there may be a slight exaggeration of a delicate situation in the making, but doctors offices and government agencies don't always catch the drift and when you find out several months later...

You, as the mainstay of acumen's stronghold, are obliged to decode words often supplanted and when you mess up your just not quit as ingenious as you aught to be. Finding stuff can be amusing and it's always where it was supposed to be. Hint: if it's not in the garbage don't worry, it'll show up someday. This business though, of waking up to the smell of roast chicken at 5 a.m. because the cats are hungry can take a bit of getting used to.

So you blog for your sanity, your lifelong quests into the conceptions of time and cognisance fruitfully enhanced by the ever present ephemeral ambiance. And they come by and tell you what a pretty picture that is on your screen. Your day is made, it's worth a hug. You know another day is coming when less awareness will be available, you live for the moment because that's all you have. And that beaming smile.