Today was a dementia day, but in a good way.
I have come to look forward to our dementia/Alzheimers support group
meetings. It's a small group, but the discussions are very helpful. The group
was a little smaller than usual this week because the spouse of one of the members had
died. We knew the end was near and I'm sure that in many respects the death was a
relief, but our hearts go out to all the family.
Sometimes the subjects discussed give one pause. A new members
was there about a parent who had a stroke (which nobody knew until there was an MRI) which
has resulted in symptoms of moderate Alzheimers, to the point where family members, even
the spouse, are not recognized any more. What is scary about this is that the victim is
not that much older than Walt and I are and this thing came unexpectedly, from out of
nowhere. It always makes you think about how fragile this life we have is.
I suspect that when one develops Alzheimers, whether gradually or
more suddenly, the victim him/herself has the easiest time of it. The more the
disease progresses, the more they retreat into their own little world and it is left to
the well members of the family to deal with all of the problems surrounding the disease.
One of the members of the group and I stood in the parking lot and
talked for awhile after the meeting. First time that has happened. She looks
forward to returning and learning more about the conditions and how to help herself.
I was home for an hour after the meeting and then had to get to Atria
to pick my mother up for her doctor's appointment. It amazes me how little (i.e., none)
resistance she had to this appointment. Everytime I have suggested she might want to
see her doctor for such-and-such, she gets that coy, flirty tone and says she'll go to the
doctor when she's feeling better (or when she really has a problem).
But Atria gave her a form that had to be filled out by her doctor for
her annual exam and so she didn't complain, except many times in the exam room about how
much she hated doctors, how she hated putting on a gown, how she hated pills, how she
hoped she didn't have to come back again for at least a year, etc.
But she got along well with the doctor who, of course, didn't believe
she was really 94 years old. (That always starts any first meeting out well.)
Unlike the gerontologist I took her to, she took her time did everything I hoped she would
do, and filled out the form. And other than hating doctors in general, my mother
seemed to like this one. The best thing about having my mother with the same doctor
I am, is that I can actually send her e-mail, which I had not been able to do because of
the SNAFU in setting up her e-mail account which apparently nobody up the food chain had
ever been able to fix for me. Even going to the "big guy" (God) was no
good. Apparently even He can't tinker with Kaiser e-mail accounts.
But now I can direct questions (if any) to her doctor via e-mail
using my account.
We're going to try a better system of making sure she takes her meds.
Dr. A. suggested turning the task over to Atria, but that would involve another
thousand-plus and she only has to take four pills a day. There is no reason why I
can't make sure that happens.
I didn't go back to Atria with her, but just let her off when we got
back. I will go back in a couple of days to pick up her laundry and bring it home to
wash.
Even though dementia was the subject most strongly on my mind today,
it was a good day and the day is ending on a good note.
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