Living with Dementia

I have mentioned this in a post before, I believe, but I always wanted to start a family a little younger, as I was always conscious of my parents ages. I wanted to make sure my babies got to know their grandparents more than I got to know mine. However,  that obviously didnt happen early enough for my dad. He was able to be "there" through my first two pregnancies, he got to see my tummy grow, feel the kicks, hear about the appointments, the cravings, the symptoms. This time, he doesnt really get to experience any of it. I thought sharing with him that we were pregnant again would be hard, I just knew I'd cry, but the moment really wasnt what I expected it to be. There were no tears, and there wasnt any happiness, it was what it always is, nothing. He didnt even look at me, which is typical these days (except when you first see him), he didn't try to hold my hand, or make any sounds or movement. He just was. And somehow it wasnt even devastating, just acceptanc

This for me, was the toughest visit yet. You would think it would get easier but then holidays happen, anniversaries, birthdays, and it makes you remember. Yesterday was my daddy's 75th birthday, a young man, really. If you look at him he looks the same. He looks young. The same youthful Kenny boy. It makes it all that more sad. I wish I could have visited him yesterday on his actual birthday but we got home from our family vacation a little later than planned and had to go with a belated celebration instead. He saw me the minute I came in to get him and greeted me with what I'd describe as happy eyes. I started tearing up. I asked him if he had fun celebrating his birthday yesterday and he replied for once, "yes." (My mom brought him a milkshake so you know it was a party!) Michael and Sophia wanted to go see the fish so off we went. My dad seemed uninterested so I got down on my knees to talk to him face to face (he is in a wheelchair) and for the first time

Going into all of this, all of the diagnosis' that my daddy has had over the last 4+ years, I began to research a lot. More than I wish I had. I've learned the ins and outs of Primary Progressive Aphasia Dementia, Atrial Fibrillation, and Parkinsons Disease. I learned so many heart breaking things, from lack of treatment to symptoms to life expectancies. It is all heart breaking. I learned the 'stages' of each disease and knew what to potentially expect and to look for. It was a huge relief that my daddy, before he reached the worst stages, (it's hard to think it could get worse than what it started as) he went into a nursing home. I thought 'what a relief, he is safe' but if anything I've learned so far is true, dont ever get comfortable. Thursday morning, first thing, I got a call from my mom. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. She didnt have work that day so I knew getting a call from her cell phone was not normal. My dad had an incident in the

A few months have passed and while the help that my mom has gotten from the VA has made her life much less stressful, my dad has just gotten worse. I'm not sure what could be described as a rapid decline but from my perspective his decline is rapid. Every time I see him, which is just about every other week, he is that much worse. In the last three months I have only heard him say one word, I have not been able to get any eye contact from him, and I have rarely seen him awake. The Parkinson's has all but taken over. My dad gets episodes where he can't stand up, where his muscles become so rigid you can literally see it in his legs and arms. He cannot eat by himself, cannot swallow a pill (he chews them) and snores more and more. He's had such bad days that his one day care has literally sat my mom down and told her if this continues as a daily event then they can no longer care for him. But if they can no longer care for him, then how can my mother, on her own? He

Today. Today has been a rough day. It's been SO long since I've posted but I really just need to get my thoughts out there. So please bear with me as I'm typing this on my phone and my thoughts are scattered. It started with a trip to the Lego store. I started a little small talk with a friendly lady while Michael built some little Lego men. I found out she was in town for the day. She explained she received a call from her grandson, who so sweetly said, "grandma when can we go to the Lego Store?" Upon hearing this, she called out of work, drove up from Williamsburg and obviously took him. It hit me like a ton of bricks. This seemingly innocent story. I started bawling. She thought I was crazy. See, my mom is my dad's primary care giver. Though my dad is in daycare twice a week, that means my mom basically has no time to herself. It is a very selfless act, an act of love and a huge test of patience and a show of who my mother is. Because she is his primary

Having a loved one with Dementia is extremely difficult. Almost everyone knows someone who has it or has been affected by it, but yet there is still so little known about it. There is still so little to prevent, slow, treat, or cure it. When I was about 11 years old, my grandfather (my dad's father) was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He was in his late 80s and it was most likely onset by age. He eventually succumbed to the disease or natural causes. I remember how devastated my father was when his own father didn't know him. My dad has looked just like my granddad his whole life, but yet my granddad had no idea who my dad was when he would visit. After visiting with him, my dad would say if that ever happened to him to drive him out on a country road and kick him out to let the animals have him (he was always a huge animal and nature lover). Knowing how he felt about this disease makes watching him suffer with it that much harder.  Some days we get glimpses of his