My Dad Has Dementia

Looking back at my childhood, and even up through to my early adulthood, I had what most people would think of as a "Brady Bunch"-type of upbringing. My Mom and Dad were loving, caring parents who have never even separated for a day (and they are celebrating their 43rd wedding anniversary at the beginning of May this year). My Dad worked full-time, and my Mom was a homemaker until my sister and I reached high school, at which time she took a part-time job. Times weren't perfect, of course, but for the most part we had a very close-knit family, one in which everyone was supportive of each other, with everyone pitching in when times were rough.

Fast forward several years, and I left the nest (followed soon thereafter by my older sister), relocating to live in a city about a half-hour north of where my parents live. Within the space of a few years, I got married and had two children. During all of this time, I could still count on my parents to be there for me whenever I need them to be, whatever the reason, as could my sister. Even if I needed to borrow a little money (as many young adults need to do, but are loath to admit), my Mom and Dad never complained and were always ready to help.

I had always known that the feelings of support were mutual, that should my parents need me for any reason, I would be there. And, as the years have marched on, I have come to see this become a reality. Gradually my calls to them for assistance have tapered off (as have my sister's), while at the same time, both my sister and I have been getting more and more calls from them needing our help. A total role reversal has come about in our close-knit family, with me acting as the Mom (my sister isn't quite as qualified to act as the Mom because she simply doesn't have the patience required for the role).

We all existed like this for a couple of years, with me slowly taking on more and more of my parents' responsibilities. I learned all about their finances and began doing nearly all of their shopping for them as well as budget for their monthly bills. And, of course, I became knowledgeable about all of their various medicines and maladies, often accompanying them to their doctor visits. This is where our "Brady Bunch" world came crashing down on us--in the doctor's office.

It was a regular office check-up for my Dad, one for which my Mom and I had gone along because we were concerned about some of his medications. They were causing him to have some memory difficulties, we thought. Well, the doctor ran some tests, and we later learned that the memory difficulties were not the result of any of my Dad's medicines; rather, they were the result of a whole new condition that he had--Dementia. The Dementia was mild, we were told, and hopefully it could be helped with medication. So, we agreed to let him start two medications that are commonly used with Alzheimer's patients to try to improve memory function and we went home, putting up a front for my Dad that everything would work out just fine.

This was over a year ago, and I'm sad to say that things have not worked out just fine...the medications are helping some, I suppose, but it is difficult to tell because he is so tired all the time (a common side effect of those medications as well as some other medications he is taking). My Dad's Dementia has not improved; it has gotten progressively worse since then. He has lost interest in a lot of the things that used to excite him, like fantasy baseball leagues on the Internet and crossword puzzles. It is not unusual for him to tell me a story about something and then five or ten minutes later, repeat the same story, not realizing that he had already told the story. He is still able to run quick errands if he has a very short list to follow, but we suspect that this will not be able to continue much longer.

All of this wouldn't be so difficult to deal with if it weren't so depressing and just plain sad to see him lose another skill or memory. My Dad used to make the most wonderful fudge every year at holiday time--chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge, and more. This year he didn't really recall any of that, not even when we showed him his recipes. He also used to bake the best banana bread and date nut bread--now he says he doesn't think he ever made that before and has no idea how to make it. It is just little things like that...those are the most heartbreaking things of all, and there is no way to prepare yourself for those.

Maybe if our family hadn't been so wonderful all of my life, perhaps then I wouldn't have such difficulty emotionally dealing with my Dad's Dementia. If we weren't so close-knit, I don't think his diagnosis would have had as profound an effect on any of us. I suppose I should be thankful that I had so many great years with my family intact and I should concentrate on that, but it is difficult to do so when I have to watch my Dad disappear before my eyes.