Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Bit by bit
Some things don’t make much sense, and they’re disturbing to the degree they jar with reality. Such as: my mother, who since her tussle with breast cancer in the mid 1960s has held a deep suspicion of the medical profession stepping way over the line of the rational, remains in the hospital due to her mental status changes, and she’s okay with that.
She seems to be aware of her surroundings. According to my sister, she thinks the high school my dad taught at in East LA has been turned into a hospital, and that’s where she is. She also tends to think my brother and I are in the hospital somewhere, or in town, and she frequently asks where we are.
My dad said he got angry yesterday because she wasn’t eating. She would chew her food, but when she thought he wasn’t looking, she would spit it out into her hand and hide the food in her lap. Or she would hide the bolus in her cheek. “Angry” seemed a surprising word to me; “distressing” seems a more appropriate emotion. It’s distressing when someone’s behavior changes so radically. She’s always been out there, my mother, or at least “always” for my lifetime, but now she’s out somewhere else.
Things went downhill quickly, but the signs have been present for a while: worrisome memory lapses, withdrawal, increasing neglect of her appearance. She’s been falling more and more, too, but it’s hard to know how much that has to do with mental status.
My sister and I find this all very distressing, and for selfish reasons. Our grandfather died with dementia, and now his daughter’s manifesting the same symptoms. Little comfort in being a long-lived clan if we’re looking forward to such an undignified exit. And while I’d like to say medical science will surely come up with preventive measures or treatments by then, I know enough to have very little faith in the system.
Karen was diagnosed with MS about 25 years ago. Know how much progress has been made in treating MS in all those years? Squat. There are more drugs on the market now, but they really do very little to change the disease.
It’s remarkable, in fact, how much progress has been made in molecular genetics and related disciplines in the last 30 years, and how little that has translated into material progress for most diseases. HIV treatment has come a long way (a testimony to what can be done with money and manpower), and we have better treatments for a handful of cancers. A few better drugs for diabetes, heart disease, chronic lung disease. But I suspect people aren’t living any longer.
Nope, can’t count on medical science to save our asses. Or our brains.
So it all boils down to the usual truisms: treasure the day, love and be good to one another, because you never know when everything is going to turn to shit. It’s not a new lesson for me, “thanks” to Karen’s illness, but it’s a stern reminder nonetheless.
D.
My father had Alzheimer’s disease – enough said. I highly recommend “Still Alice” by Lisa Genova. This book attempts to portray what the person who has dementia feels and thinks as the disease progresses.
How’s your husband doing, Lucie?
Thanks for asking. He’s home after a 10 day stay at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. He has many subacute and chronic problems but the good news is that they found a 90% blockage of the right coronary artery that they stented. We are all hoping this will be the the famous WAKE UP CALL for him.
My wake up call was my brother’s heart attack in his early 40s. Ever since, I’ve tried to be good . . .
Glad to hear he’s doing better.
No better drugs for Tpe I diabetics – it’s been insulin for over 30 years. We are living longer, but that due to the regimen improving, not the drugs.
I wonder how many people make dignified exits these days. Used to be that infections and pneumonia got people younger.
some silver lining shit for dementia survivors I wrote last summer. I don’t remember did I write about how after both my parents died, I got back the memories of the old version of them — to a degree? Doesn’t seem like much of a blessing for those of us with bad memories.
I got the same bad genes of a mom and her father with dementia. now I’m waiting for the symptoms.
speaking of decay, happy almost birthday to us.