We were sitting on the deck with Don and Edie, who had called and offered to bring supper over — we accepted and invited them to stay and eat with us.  I was making a point about something, but I had one of those lapses, when I couldn’t think of the right word to complete my sentence.  Mary Ann finished my sentence by adding the word.  This is the same Mary Ann who has had Parkinson’s for twenty-two years, who has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease Dementia and can hardly get an audible word out of her mouth.

Exactly who is it in this household who has memory problems? I certainly hope other Caregivers sometimes struggle with memory problems.  I would hate to think I am the only one.

A few weeks ago I was trying to remember the birthday of one of my brothers.  I knew it was sometime in the end of May and that my Sister-in-Law has a birthday near his.  I asked Mary Ann in one of those times when I was not anticipating an answer from her.  She said May 25th.  I assumed, since she has Dementia, I could not accept that as the final answer.  I called one of my Sisters.  Dick’s birthday is May 25th.

Why is it that sometimes Mary Ann’s memory is better than mine, and she is the one diagnosed with Dementia.  I wonder how many other Caregivers sometimes worry at just how often we forget stuff.  When the Caseworker comes by for the annual assessment visit, at a certain point he always gives her four words and asks her to remember them so that she can list them when he asks her again.  I am so grateful that he doesn’t ask me to repeat those words later in the conversation.  Of course I repeat the four words in my mind the entire time he is asking her other quesitons so that I can feel superior when I remember all four and she only gets two or three of them. If I had been forced to pay attention to the questions he was asking after listing the words I would not have had any hope of remembering the four words.

I recognize that stress can impact a person’s capacity to remember things.  I have used that rationalization a thousand times.  I understand that memory loss due to attention problems is a normal part of aging.  There is a unique character to the memory loss that is the result of Dementia, but I have forgotten what it is.

Actually, I just cheated and checked online to see if I could find something to help distinguish the normal memory loss due to aging and the memory loss that comes with dementia.  Forgetting how to do things that you have been doing for years is one.  Forgetting how to get someplace you have gone to often is another.  No longer being able to follow things that are done in steps, such as following a recipe is another.

One of the reasons that I have developed so many routines is that routines help me get things done that might be forgotten if the routine didn’t automatically lead me to do them.  I turn the medicine bottle upside down when I take my daily Synthroid so that I won’t take it a second time thinking I hadn’t yet done it.  I alway use the remote to lock the doors on the car rather than the button on the inside of the door.  That way I am far less likely to lock my keys in the car.  I have to have the fob in hand to lock them.  Of course, I keep a list of all the things I need to do.  If a new item comes to mind, I have to write it on the list immediately.

I guess I cannot know for sure if my memory loss is normal.  I think it is within a normal range.  I hope so!

I don’t think I am the only Caregiver who wonders sometimes if he/she is suffering from serious memory loss.  As Caregivers, we can see how devastating dementia can be.  When we can’t remember things, sometimes it scares us.  If we have a problem, who will care for our Loved One?

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

The extension ladder is old and not very stable.  The years of very little exercise have stiffened this sixty-six year old body so that moving up and down a ladder is not such an easy task any more. Lifting the ladder off the hooks in the garage tested my wheelchair lifting muscles.  Then there was the matter of moving the ladder every few minutes along the gutter so that I could climb up with my bucket, hook it on a rung and grab handfuls of smelly rotted little seeds from the neighbor’s trees.

I am not much of a ladder person.  Heights are just not my thing.  I suppose I am sort of acrophobic.  I don’t mind riding in an airplane, although recent news events may change my opinion on that.  On Youth trips to a beautiful camp fifty miles northwest of Colorado Springs called Lutheran Valley Retreat, I joined in the climb up Cedar Mountain.  I still remember my first time.  I was terrified.  As a pastor and counsellor on the trip, more than ten years older than the oldest of the Youth, I was too embarrassed to admit it.  The way I got through the climb that first year was to convince myself that if thirteen year old people could climb it, at thirty, I ought to be able to climb it.  I decided that in spite of my insides being less sure of it, I was safe.

Other than the year the lightning almost got us, I felt safe from then on.  After the first year I was a seasoned pro, climbing with bravado.  Still, if I am not completely confident that I am secure, heights are very unsettling to my insides.  I will not walk to the edge of a very tall building to look out windows if they are floor to ceiling.  Vertigo sets in.

As I was climbing up the ladder to clean out the gutters yesterday afternoon, the issue of my safety came to mind.  The ladder sometimes slipped at the top toward one side or the other as I climbed up.  I started thinking about what I would do if it fell, where I would land, what way to jump if it started going.  It was not a particularly scary thought to me, just a matter of fact analysis of the situation.

As I was analyzing the dynamics of falling, it popped into my mind that hurting myself would not just be a matter of getting fixed whatever broke, arm, shoulder, knee, or something worse.   What about Mary Ann.  She needs me to do the most basic daily tasks with her or for her. Hurting myself would hurt her.  She counts on me. If I were to do something stupid, our ability to maintain our little world would be gone, at least for a time.  She would certainly be mightily irritated with me.

The way I responded to that realization was to become very methodical about setting the feet of the ladder, making sure it was flat against the gutters.  I stepped up the ladder more slowly.  I caefully hung the bucket for the sludge.  Thinking about my responsibilty to Mary Ann as Caregiver translated to more care of myself.  

What happens to me is not just about me.  Those of you who have children are likely to have come to the realization that the choices you make do not just affect you.  Riding a bike without a helmet, ignoring the seat belt, driving twenty miles over the speed limit (under ten is okay, right?), smoking like a chimney, whatever puts you at a significant health risk is more than an issue of your freedom to do as you please.  It is no longer just about you. 

There is also a frustrating flip side to the matter of keeping safe for the sake of our care receiver.  What would be fair, if fairness were an option, is for the one for whom we are caring to have the same concern for keeping safe.  It would seem fair for the Care Receiver to avoid taking risks so that their Caregiver would not have an even tougher time trying to deal with the consequences of their risk-taking gone bad. 

I hesitate to bring this one up again, but it is one of the most difficult areas in our relationship as Care partners.  It seems that one of us in this partnership is intent on taking risks no matter how likely the risk is to produce more work for the Caregiver.   The truth is, there is no thoughtful intent to make work for the Caregiver by taking unnecessary risks.  The kind of thinking that would be needed for that intent is no longer available.  The risky actions are just the reflex actions of a mind and body with the simple need for the freedom to move at will and do the same things that have always been done.  There is no fully conscious awareness that the disease process has taken away some freedoms. 

Nonetheless, it is very difficult to watch a Loved One assert that independance without regard for the consequences to herself or her Caregiver.  It is just part of the reality within which we live now that Parkinson’s and Parkinson’s Disease Dementia have joined us in our journey.  Fairness is irrelevant to matter of safety. I need to keep myself safe so that I can continue to care for her.  She is free to do whatever she can no matter the risk. 

Nobody said life is fair.  If it was fair, she wouldn’t have to deal with the ravages of the Parkinson’s in the first place.  It is not fair, it just is.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.