Tag Archive: dementia


On an early morning recently, we were out and about at 7:30.

The weatherman had stated that in the direction we had to go there was ‘spotty fog’ and in some places, ‘visibility of 1/10 mile.

Yes, we drove in and out of pockets of fog, sometimes dense, sometimes thin and just a mist and then into clear sunlit space.

Why does she carry on so, you may be askin? Because I found in this fog a similarity to what is going on in my husband’s brain.

The moments of total clarity. ‘We are going to do this.’ ‘ Today is Wednesday’.

The questions that repeat multiple times a day. ‘Where is my (fill in blank)?’ ‘When is our next appointment?’ ‘Did the kids check in yet?’ All of these only to be asked again in 10 minutes.

The fear and frustration when something is totally hidden in the fog. At a restaurant, not being able to find the restroom or return to the table. Unfamiliar places are hard to navigate. Thankfully the staff graciously helped out.

Yes, dementia is a fog. But it will eventually be so heavy and thick the sun may not come through at all.

Wonders never cease

This morning, we did not have the usual hassles over blood sugar testing, oxygen sats and blood pressure.

Even more surprising to me was the request, after the oxygen sat reading, to set up his supplemental oxygen.

Withing minutes of this and the use of the oft complained (“This doesn’t help”) inhalers, the oxygen sats were up well above the 87% he started this morning with.

I will rejoice and be glad! How long will it last? Maybe, but I’m thankful for now.

It’s Monday, and already a long day in the world of a caregiver and my caregivee.

We started out this morning with a discussion of ‘why do we need to do this?” Blood sugar, Blood pressure and Oxygen saturation which is daily sent to the VA.

My answer, “Because they need to keep track”, did not seem to satisfy. Neertheless, we did the things and the data was sent.

Last week, Hubby saw the pulmonary folks, I’ve been mentioning to anyone who’d listen that his oxygen numbers were less than the desird 93%.

Even though he’s on oxygen at night, and using two different broncodilators, his morning reading is often in the 85-90 range.

After a pulmonary function test, where his numbers dropped to 80 and the tech had to put oxygen on him to get it back up to 90. it was decided he needed supplemental oxygen when he is ‘short of breath’ during the day.

The oxygen man has been here, portable tanks are in place and we have both had a lesson in the proper operation. The man couldn’t have been back to the highway before I was asked if this is going to do any good.

Honestly, I do not know. I do know that getting better oxygen may help some of the muscle pain when you walk, and it may help your brain work better too.

So for now, we will be monitoring this more closely, watching for breathing difficulties and adding a few more requests to the prayer list.

Yes, he napped in front of the TV, but he got dressed. Count the blessings and be thankful every day.

so, I am walking

This is the day for The Alzheimer’s Walk. It’s a small thing I can do. This year it’s a virtual walk and can be done anywhere. Mine is here along our road on Sunrise Ridge.

I joined my daughter’s team, along with a few others. We are walking for my husband, and anyone who has been diagnosed with dementia. In case you do not know, it’s a hard thing to live with, for him and for me as caregiver.

So, I am walking.

Earlier this past week, I was really ill with food poisoning and dehydration. Go to the doctor ill, in fact. Hubby’s needs, however, are becoming greater. He sits in front of his TV, still in Pajamas, dozing in and out. Refusing his supplemental oxygen. This is today, and yesterday, maybe tomorrow it will be the same. Or perhaps something new will happen.

One thing I know, it is not getting better, nor will it.

So, I am walking.

I put on my whte hat, weren’t all the cowboy heros wearing white hats, back in the day? Donned my favorite tie dye shirt, a symbol for love and peace. Picked up my rose printed cane, so I could go the distance. My favorite walking shoes, sturdy and comfortable go on my feet.

I can do this!

So, I am walking

One little thing, out team has met it’s pledge goal, and I walk, down our ramp and onto the road. My goal is simple, slow and easy. Take some time to enjoy the outdoors. Just breathe, someone is giving me a break and accept the peace.

So, I am walking.

Along the way, I see the signs of Autumn, the last summer flowers, turning leaves. The shutting down of a season of growth and color.

The end of what was.

So, I am walking

The ‘honey-do list’ has been revised

The famed. ‘honey-do list’ has taken on a new meaning here on Sunrise Ridge.

Rather than it being a list of things I would like Hubby to do, it has evolved into a check list for me to be able to show Hubby what has been done.

Each day, he has a number of things he wants done, and will ask multiple times if they have been done. “Did you make that phone call, is this bill paid, have I had my lunch, do we need to go somewhere…”, are just examples and it varies from day to day.

I ‘ve started to write it down, the ‘everyday’ things , like shower and clean your hearing aids, and his specific requests of the day, ‘what’s for lunch?’. Then as they are completed or attempted I can check it off or make a note of continuance.

It seems to help that I can show him a hard copy of what was done, how we need to proceed. It seems to be an efficient calming strategy at least this week.

Moaning, I’m broken…

The breakage is internal, not visible. It’s been a rough week! The dementia, which raises it’s ugly hurtful head, has been working overtime this week. Compulsions, obsessions, demands! How much can I take?

My ‘honey-do’ lists are long, “fix this, look up that, is it time to eat, we need to…” And it has made the days long and hard.

I need a break, that is not possible. Someone has to be here. Yesterday, he felt he needed to climb on a roof. That cannot happen, some days his balance is so bad it’s all he can do to walk safely.

I need some rest, um, no, I’m up early to try to get what I need to do done, and late to be sure things are OK when he is finally ready to call it a day. He’s never ready to do anything until at least noon these days, except eat.

I hope and pray that this is just another passing phase of the illness and things will level out again! At least for a while. I hate seeing him sink into the quicksand of this disease.

I think of the ‘if only’. If only he had not been ‘inappropriate’ with a health aid one day when I thought I could leave him for a couple of hours.

He’s begun to notice more and more, his frustration and anxiety increase as he realizes, when he does, that he can no longer do this or that or remember ‘important’ things.

How much worse must it be for him, in those lucid times? I cannot even imagine! When he speaks of possible future things, I know he is aware of possible outcomes and fears them too.

Hang on, old girl! You have him, or at least most of the time you have a part of him, yes, you cry when he tries to tell you something and that bewildered lost look comes on his face. But he is here, and still responds to a hug or pat on the shoulder.

Be thankful for what you have and the 50+ years you have had this man by your side.