I knew that paranoia is
often a component of dementia, but had not seen it until today.
The day started with no
sleep. I absolutely could not get to sleep and only fell asleep for
about half an hour or so around 7. So I was not operating on all
cylinders.
I had a dental
appointment at 11. I am one of those weird people who enjoy my
appointments. I like my dental hygienist, Christina, and I enjoy the
brief moments to catch up with Cindy, who has been a friend since the 1980s,
long before she had her own dental practice.
It was noon when I left
the office and I did not want to get to Atria at lunch time, so I did a
little shopping first (laying in goodies for Ashley, who moves in tonight to
take care of the house and the dogs while we are in Santa Barbara.
This will be the first time they dog sit while their baby is becoming a
toddler. I hope it all works out, since we are not "baby proof" here.)
I
got to Atria just as lunch was finished and my mother was sitting at a table
laughing with her friend Loretta. The two women have been "friends" for most
of the time that my mother has been at Atria. They love to tease and
put each other down. They remind me of my mother and her friend Paula,
in San Rafael. I was so happy when my other found Loretta.
Of course, they don't
have a clue who the other one is. They don't know each other's name
and are at about the same stage of dementia, Loretta perhaps a bit ahead of
my mother because she moved into the memory unit a few months before my
mother did.
But I enjoyed the
"normalcy" of sitting with these two friends laughing with each other, and
was glad to see my mother actually laughing with another resident.
When it was time for us
to leave the table, I don't know where Loretta went, but my mother and I
headed back to her apartment. She is having what is probably another
bout of sciatica and her leg is bothering her. I was pleased
(and very surprised) to see that she had brought a cane with her to the
dining room.
We walked to her
room--which she cannot find yet (the big MILDRED on the front door helps!)
and she sat down in her chair....and then it started.
It started the way it
usually does, with her looking around and saying "something's wrong."
She then said what she often said, that she knows she should be doing
something but can't remember what it is. We even laughed about it, and
I told her what I always tell her, that the nice thing about living at Atria
is that if there is something she should be doing, the staff will remind
her, that they are her memory.
An aid came in to check
on her, on her regular rounds. She and I talked about the leg pain and
I explained that she had suffered from sciatica before but had not
complained of pain in over a year. She asked if it was OK with me if
she faxes my mother's doctor to ask bout adding Tylenol to her meds.
I watched my mother's
face while the aid and I talked. I could see that she couldn't follow
what we were saying and that it bothered her a lot.
After the aid left, she
got this weird look on her face and said she just didn't understand what
she's done wrong that offended everyone. She says nobody in the family
will talk to her. When she walks into a room, everyone turns their
back on her and whispers about her. and she doesn't know why.
She says nobody calls
her to ask her to go out to lunch or dinner and when she calls someone to
invite them to do something they just say "I am busy." She can't
figure out what she has done wrong.
Another aid came in.
She was just coming on her shift and was checking in on all of her clients.
A darling girl, with a big smile and rosy cheeks. She and my mother
talked and laughed together and after she left, my mother was gloomy again
"See?" she said, indicating the aid and how she hadn't wanted to talk with
her.
Then she pointed at me
and said... "I look at your face and I see these thoughts going through your
head, how you want to leave and how you don't want to be with me."
Then she went on to say
she didn't know what anybody in the family was doing any more and I said
that I could tell her something, that Brianna was on a softball team that
had just qualified to go to the championships in San Diego. I
thought that might interest her because Brianna is her great granddaughter
(though she does note relate to that) and because she herself was a softball
champ in high school.
She just looked at me
and said "Now why in the world would you tell me that?" and
had zero interest in what I was saying.
She
had this disconsolate look on her face and just kept trying to figure out
what she had done wrong and why nobody liked her any more. I couldn't
leave her like that so I just sat there and listened. Sometime I tried
being in her head and responding to what she was saying and telling her how
sad I was that she was being treated so badly. Other times I tried
being in the present and reminding her that all that family (her siblings)
were dead and couldn't shun her ("Yeah, but there are others in
the family..") and reminded her that everybody lived at least 100 miles
away. That didn't help.
(Yes, I know the
pointlessness of trying to "help" but I hate seeing her so miserable.)
I stayed about 45
minutes trying various things until finally I got her to laugh and come back
to normal again. They I hurried up to leave before she sank back into
depression again. I told her I'd be in Santa Barbara and that I'd see
her in a week and she told me to have a great time and seemed as happy as
she ever is these days. At least I didn't feel uncomfortable about
leaving her in the depths of depression.
I came home and slept
for about 2 hours. I'm just going to have to put that in the back of
my mind while we're away, and realize that she is in good hands and that the
aids are taking good care of her...and she can have lunch with Loretta.
We
found this gem