Some time ago, he told me that he realized his dementia was really real. He had gotten lost bringing the kids home from school the day before. Because we have read so much about dementia based on another loved one’s situation, he knew that getting lost on familiar routes was a sign of the disease as is difficulty with recalling some words. The ironic thing is that ‘dementia’ itself is a word that he cannot recall.
As time passes, his awareness of dementia ebbs and flows. At times he is belligerent, stating nothing is wrong with his brain. At times he is angry, wondering why he struggles so. At times, he is afraid that he will be ‘put away’ because he knows he makes life difficult for others and himself. These times make me angry and afraid as well. I am helpless to stop his decline. Based on previous experience, I know where dementia leads. It is not a place I want to return.
So, we wait. We try to cope. We read and learn. We struggle day by day to wrest any positives we can from this situation that we have been in for years now. Time is not necessarily our friend, but it marches on.