That Moment When You Experience it for Yourself

So it is hard to explain what it is like living with a person who is exhibiting symptoms of dementia, it is something that you would have to experience for yourself in order to believe it and understand it. One by one my grandmother's children have to see what it is like on their own.

So last week my aunt Elena came to visit for a week and stayed with grandma while I was out of town on a work related trip.  My aunt works in a nursing home but I guess it was different to come to visit her mother and see her mind deteriorate to the point to where she no longer bathes herself or is willing to change her clothes.  My aunt, poor thing, is a humble lady who is very gracious and full of love.  She was attacked by my grandmother when she tried to help her change her clothes and bathe.  My aunt decided to hide my grandmother’s clothes just to see if she would look for a new set and change, but the situation went downhill quickly.  My grandmother became aggressive and demanded her clothes.  She went on and on saying that it is nobody’s business if she changes her clothes or not, it’s nobody’s business if she bathes or not.  I couldn’t help to wonder how right she was.  Who are we to tell her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, for sure no one can tell me what to do.  My aunt almost gave in and gave her back her clothes but I heard the commotion and went in, then she decided to step out of the room.  I talked to my grandmother for a while, she told me someone took her clothes, I played it off and changed the subject and she calmed down, about an hour later she put on a new set of clean clothes and went to get coffee.  I quickly grabbed the dirty clothes and washed then then return them to their original place.  We decided to make my grandmother believe that she had washed them and that they were there all along.  She bought the story.

The week, for the most part, went well for my aunt, but the end was a little rocky.  The day my aunt was flying back to Florida, my grandmother was so upset, she kept saying how all her children abandoned her, and she kept saying how lonely she was.  It made us realized that no matter how many people surround her, she only wants the companionship of her biological children. It is a pity that most of them don't live near, most live in a different state altogether and they can only come to visit occasionally.  It is my hope that all her biological children make efforts to be with her if only a week at a time.

Counting Cars

Today started off rocky, but we ended up counting cars.  We sat in our favorite part of the house, had breakfast consisting of coffee and sweet bread while looking out the large kitchen window as countless cars passed by.  It is one of her newest pastimes, counting cars.  Counting cars is now a thing my grandma does, she is amazed by the number of cars that pass by the busy street that our house is on.  She particularly likes the red ones, calling them pura sangre (pure blood) I play right along with her because it’s easy and pleases her and although the morning seemed eternal, it passed just like the cars.

At lunch, her favorite, Popeyes chicken.  A quick lunch and a chat then she went to get some rest.  She read her bible and took a nap.

Afternoon came and we sat back down at the kitchen table and resume the count of the countless cars of all shapes, sizes and colors, she imagining a story for each car that passed by admiring the red ones, disliking the ones with large windows for lack of privacy.  She asked me if I liked the large windows, I lied and said I didn’t, I feel she was happy that I shared her sentiment.

Evening came and in between stories and through a nice dinner of chicken stew, we are still counting cars.  I would have to say that counting cars, although not my first choice of things to do, was actually a welcome treat which allowed me to share a pleasant moment with my grandmother.

Today's Crisis

Lately, we have been experiencing crises with gran gran too often.  Today's crisis started in the morning.  As I am getting ready for work, she's in the kitchen having coffee with sweet bread as she grew up doing in Honduras; she has kept her morning rituals non-changing.  I went to the kitchen and greeted her, asked her how she was doing.  She said she felt a little hard of breathing, since I had to leave for work I wanted to make sure she used her inhaler to avoid any asthma attacks during the day since I wouldn't be there. She said she has no inhalers, which she does; she just misplaces them or overuses them.  This time I kept the brand new inhaler we just got for her yesterday.  So I pulled out the inhaler and I asked her to take a treatment before I leave for work so I don't worry about her during the day.  She must have been faking the symptoms because all of a sudden she could breathe and talk and yell and scream.  She got so offended that I had kept the inhaler, she asked me if I thought she was old and stupid that she couldn't keep her own medication, I of course tried to diffuse the situation to no avail.  I followed her upstairs where she was almost running to while simultaneously yelling insults at me, if there was no asthma attack before, there was sure to be one now.  As I reached upstairs she proceeded to bang on her head with her fists and then to drop to the ground.  I tried to help her fall but she began to scratch me, I pulled away and she continued to bang her head.  I grabbed her arms and told her that I could not let her hurt herself and that she needed to calm down; she refused and continued to scream and demanded to be left alone.  I just could not leave her.  I called my son and told him to stand by with the cell phone in case calling an ambulance became necessary; he too tried to calm her down to no avail.  Suddenly, I found myself yelling at her as if she was my child.  I don't even know at what moment I decided to do it, I don't think it was out of frustration, it felt more like it was out of necessity. I found myself yelling at my grandmother to calm down I screamed at her to let me take care of her or did she prefer I call an ambulance and have her restrained?.  She calmed down but I saw a look of helplessness in her eyes.  I felt she feels a little lost but she's not sure if she can trust me.  I helped her off the floor and onto her bed where she finally agreed to take the inhaler treatment. It was a moment loaded with emotions, she apologized to me for scratching me and insulting me, I told her there was no need for apologies and that I do not enjoy yelling at her and to forgive me that.  I told her to try to control her anger and try to trust me. She agreed. 

Although it was an emotionally charged morning, I feel like it helped me understand her a little more. I don't know if I reacted the right way, it felt like instinct almost, it just happened.  When I got to my office, I immediately started reading about dementia symptoms and came across do's and don'ts when experiencing incidents like this. I feel my reaction was a don't and now I know for next time.  

Now, I am in need of a muscle relaxer and eye drops. I'm afraid the stress of the morning will probably stay with me throughout the day.

I must reiterate that she has not been diagnosed with dementia or Alzheimer, but her pcp recognized her behavior as symptoms of dementia.  I am in the process of scheduling an appointment with a neurologist through Medicare.  

Good source of info:

http://www.aplaceformom.com/blog/2013-02-08-dealing-with-dementia-behavior/

Her story as I hear it from her at the round table in my kitchen

Gran gran comes from a fantastic and very interesting family.  Her story is told to me time and time again ever time we seat at the small round table in my kitchen for coffee.

"You know what?" she starts, "I have worked hard all my life, since I was 8 years old I've been working" and I tell her how great that was because it made her the person she is today.

Still with some bitter emotion in her voice she recounts how she was made to work hard while her older sister was allowed to lazy about in the house and was given all the attention she was denied.  It saddens me to hear her story, I can feel her sadness because as a young girl she was aware of the preferences and the unfair treatment from her parents.

She tells me of how she had to wake up at the crack of dawn to milk cows, I ask her how many cows were there, she says 5 one day about 10 on a different day.  But regardless of the number of cows, the story of her milking cows at the crack of down when she was only about 8 years old is consistent.

Gran gran had 3 brothers (2 diseased)  and two sisters, She is the third child, she doesn't mention her youngest sister who is also the youngest of all the siblings, she seems to only remember her oldest sister who is the oldest of all the siblings, and her two dead brothers.  She loved Jilberto, he protected her, he witness the unfair treatments toward gran gran and he seems to have stood up for her.  Her younger brother is a tragic story.  She tells that story with such sadness and regret you can feel the same as you listen to it time and time again and it always evokes the same emotion..

Gran gran's younger brother was only 12 years old when he died tragically.  The family lived in a ranch in which handling of fire arms was common place at any age.  Gran gran herself was an avid shooter.  One day they let a friend borrow a rifle and when he returned it, her little  brother grabbed it and sat down, he slammed the butt of the riffle on the ground as he sat and the riffle went off hitting him right under the chin and exiting at the top of the head.  He died instantly.  She describes her little brother as a beautiful creature inside and out.  "He had blue eyes" she says, which is probably why she takes to my oldest son as if he was her own, she describes her little brother and you see my son in the picture. She cries sometimes when she tells the story, ending in curses to the friend who so irresponsibly left a round in the chamber.  "Who does that" she she cries, what a fucking bastard, damned be that bastard" she cries.  I tell her she must forget because she now must remember she's a christian, "You're right" she says wiping away the tears.

Meet Gran Gran

Gran Gran is my beautiful and greatly loved 83 year old grandmother , her name is Maria Antonia. She raised my sister and I in Honduras and we came to live in the US in the late 80s.  Gran gran has always been a strong willed woman, having raised 7 daughters, 2 sons and 2 granddaughters, she has been a rock, a business owner, a teacher and has survived many adversities. She has lived an exemplary life, one of hard work and selflessness.  She is a great woman.

Why blog?

Living with gran gran is about my struggle to give my grandmother a dignified life during what seems to be a very difficult time.  

My grandmother has lived with me since 1998, but its been the experiences of the past 6 months that has prompted me to write this blog.  Although she has not been diagnosed, her primary care physician believes she is exhibiting symphony of dementia, something I never imagine we would be going through, but we are right in the thick of it.  We are hoping to get an official diagnostic and possibly treat her, but it is very difficult to get her to leave the house and see the doctor.  She has a pending appointment with a Neurologist soon.

It has been a shocking change which has come about quickly and it is only progressing.  At times it feels like I'm raising another child, I have two of my own, but in many ways raising gran gran feels more challenging and difficult than raising my two boys who are now 19 and 21.

I decided to do this blog for a couple of reasons.  One, I want to document her days as she forgets what happens within minutes of the occurrence.  Two, I am hoping it will give me some relief as my life has changed completely with added stress and raw emotion.  And finally, as I blog, I will be educating myself about dementia and hope to help others deal with similar situations.