Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Ditzy Dementia

There is a difference between dementia and Alzheimer's. I see it in my mom.
When she is demented, she has insane ideas. Thoughts and actions that seem completely unreasonable.
When she is in an Alzheimer's state, she is simply forgetful and needs to be shown how to do things again. Like a child who is new to everything.
Dementia has her thinking she can flush candy wrappers in the toilet...
Use the sink as her toilet...
Flush the all toilets five times in a row or go to the bathroom every two minutes for hours at a time.
Alzheimer's has her guessing someone's name or a word she has forgotten.
She forgets the soupe du jour.
She can't remember if she put sugar in her tea. She can't remember she ever even enjoyed tea.
Dementia has her feeding the cat on top of the television because "isn't that normal?"...
Placing utensils in the refrigerator.
Alzheimer's has her forgetting she is a grandmother...
Thinking she is still married to my father after 35 years of divorce.
Dementia has her trying to ride my bicycle.
Alzheimer's has her forgetting what a bicycle is.
Dementia is full of anger and rage.
Alzheimer's is full of depression and sadness.

Where is she and who is she going to become?



Monday, January 30, 2012

Their Better Side

Helen. Lower right in the front row.

The 'rents. Niles. 1963

The 'rents. Circa 1969. Opening Night at the Playhouse

The 'rents off to the Emmy Awards. May 1968

The 'rents. Mausoleum. February 1968


Thursday, January 12, 2012

Robitussin. The New Cure for NPH?

It may just be that Robitussin is the cure for Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus. Please do not quote me. This is all a simple little observation. Twice in the last eight weeks Mother has been sick with some kind of deep wet cough. It is non-productive so I suspect it is heart related. For the rest of us healthy folk it would probably be like bronchitis. Anyway, she has taken Robitussin both times she has had this pesky, little, naggy, long lasting congestiveheartfailurecough. (I spell it altogether like that so it won't really be true, even though that's probably what it really is. Thank you WooLee.)  So I have been giving her Robitussin because she can't take the real cough syrup, you know, the Liquid Gold, that we all go for when we have bronchial issues. So I happened to notice that after she has gone through three + bottles, when she actually takes it, not only does it quell her cough, but she is more "present". My god! Could it be that the alcohol in the cough syrup is actually drying out the cerebral fluid in her brain and making her normal? I decided to use her as a guinea pig and purchase non-alcohol Robitussin this time around. Sure enough, she was totally lost. Memory shot. When that bottle was empty, I purchased the kind with a taaaaaad bit o' alcohol in it. Guess what? She is somewhat present.

Alcohol dries out the brain. So her fluid must be sucked dry with the syrup. MediCare doesn't want to fix her shunt...? She can just swig the 'tussin every now and again. Then MediCare can pay for the Betty.


Interesting. Very, very interesting.




People, this is a joke. She will NOT be swigging the syrup unless she needs it.

Inspector Clouseau Called...

...He wants his gear back.


She is hooked on Lotto Scratchers. This typical outfit you see worn for "scratching" consists of a hat and magnifying glass. The hat is to shield the eyes from any shadows or glare that may be cast by overhead lighting. The magnifying glass is for... well, to see if there is a winner.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Seasons Change

Monday evening when I arrived home, I smelled it. The clear stench of burn. Fire. Smoke. The kind of odor that permeates walls, fabric, and carpet for days, if not weeks. Mom scurried to the kitchen door to let me in and excitedly tell me that she burned her dinner. Since she has been eating waffles lately, I automatically assumed she toasted a waffle too long in the toaster oven. We've all done that at some time in our lives. Created a charred, crusty, ashen, smokey trivet of yuck.

It actually must have caught on fire or heated to such a high temperature that it melted or began to ignite. The stench of fire, smoke, and burn is still trapped inside the house. 40-hours later. Every room. Each closet. Every drawer. Inside the cabinet. Under the bathroom sinks.

Last night I couldn't sleep, perturbed about how I could possibly still go to the office most days and leave mom in the house alone. I can't. So in a sleepless daze I went to the kitchen to warm up oatmeal in the microwave. It was in that moment I realized Mom had not toasted a waffle two days before. She microwaved a frozen meal in a little black plastic TV-tray or leftovers from the refrigerator. The horrific odor leaking from the microwave was unbearable. I thought the microwave was on fire - deep inside like an electrical fire. However, the smell was not electrical so I doubt that is the issue. It was definitely the fire/smokey odor. It must be a leftover smell trapped in the unit.

At 4:00 AM, instead of eating my oatmeal, this choking smell prompted me to go outside to the trash barrel to take a gander. At the very bottom of the trash barrel, wrapped in clear plastic was a piece of china dinner plate, blackened and broken with some kind of fire-charred food burned on to the plate. It looked like she placed a TV-dinner on a plate and cooked it for an hour or more.

This morning as I watched Mom put a bagel in the toaster oven, I realized how swiftly she can become distracted by anything. I watched her instantaneously forget about the bagel and toddle over to the living room to watch a raven and squirrels outside the front window. I could smell the bagel beginning to smolder in the toaster over and it was then that I became truly cognizant of how, like the seasons have made their complete change without us realizing, so has her brain.