Site guide
Me, Dad and dementia
A journey into the unknown ...
My Dad has dementia. Not that you would know at first or even second glance. In fact, the uninitiated could sit and quite happily have a conversation with him and only think that he is deaf. He was diagnosed a number of years ago with vascular dementia. Before diagnosis we used to laugh about his forgetfulness and I suppose that we thought that this gentle humour would just carry on.
After diagnosis we were told that he should go to a day centre once a week. He only went twice. He was early stage and high functioning and many of the other attendees were late stage. Dad was adamant that the doctors had made the wrong diagnosis. After that, he did not talk about or accept his dementia for a number of years. Even when he did he claimed he had memory problems or that his brain was “foggy”.
He was still living alone in his own place at that stage with me “sorting” him out – this is what he called my care of him! On one particular day I had gone round to his place to “sort” him out and of course he had gone out. I was getting used to searching for him; he had some favoured places he liked to go to.
Here he comes now walking towards me along the street. Staring fixedly at the ground with only the occasional glance up to look where he is going. He attacks the unwary – which is anybody in his way – with an evil stare, a mutter (with a varying degree of sense and sound) and a wicked wave of his walking stick he determinedly made his way. That’s my Dad.
“Hi Dad, you were meant to be at your flat waiting for me” I said, trying not to sound frustrated.
“No I wasn’t, not today, that was yesterday and you didn’t come” he said accusingly. (I had cooked him his breakfast and evening meal the day before). “And you didn’t answer your phone!” he added. (This tells me that he has been trying all kinds of number combinations but not mine). He can never get the memory buttons on his phone to work.
“I only phoned and spoke to you half an hour ago to say I was coming round. You must have left straight away” I said. “Never mind, we have found each other now and you have a doctors appointment”.
“You didn’t tell me – I can’t go to the doctors!” exclaimed Dad rather angrily.
“I did tell you. Why can’t you go to the doctors, Dad?”
“Because you didn’t tell me!” Difficult to argue with someone who doesn’t remember whole conversations or pretends not too. He doesn’t like to see the doctor unexpectedly.
When my Dad has a doctor’s appointment he uses many coping strategies to hide the fact that he has Dementia. Many people create strategies to cope with life; it is not just something dementia sufferers do. When he knows that he is going to the doctors he tries to memorise various dates and days or conveniently forgets his hearing aids. That one works really well and I can highly recommend it as an evasion method. If I remind him to put his hearing aids in, he sits with the doctor and keeps repeating that he can’t hear and that his batteries must need replacing! (It works a treat – most doctors give up trying to talk to him and question me instead – maybe that’s why Dad has been diagnosed with Dementia!)
Did we end up at the doctors – of course not? However, Dad is lucky enough to have a very good GP and she popped round to see him.
Later that day, when I was cooking him his dinner I asked if he would like to go on an outing arranged by one of the charities.
“No!” he said quite crossly.
“Why, you might enjoy it, I will come too and they provide lunch. It sounds that it could be a good day out, it’s worth a go” I said, hopefully.
“No, I am not going on one of those things, I went before and it is full of old people - worse it is full of old biddies” said the 88 year old.
“But Dad, how old are you?”
“I was born in 1920”.
“Well, how old does that make you?”
“I am only 60” he said. Unfortunately he was not having a joke with me, he really does believe that he is only 60, regardless that he was born in 1920. Needless to say we did not go on any organised outing. He refused to believe that he was not 60 even though his eldest son is 61.
“Why do you say that I am 90, I just can’t be” he suddenly said a while later.
“Well, that is your real age but if you want to be 60 I will take 30 years of my age to make it work out”
“You can’t do that, you look older than me, no one will believe you” said my Dad.
“Well, thanks Dad. I love you too.” I laughed.
“You must have it wrong about the age – I don’t want to be that old”.
Join the club.
The next day I received a phone call from the manager from the retirement flats that Dad lived in. She told me that there had been numerous complaints from some of the ladies regarding the laundry room. Dad had a thing about washing his clothes and initially would use all the washing machines at the same time leaving none for any of the other residents to use. This was causing huge problems for all concerned. I decided to keep quiet about the fact that I showed him how to use the machines in the first place.
“Dad, Jenny rang me” I said.
“Who rang you?” (Yet again he had refused to put his hearing aids in as he claimed he did not need them).
“Jenny”.
“Who?”
“JENNY – the manager” I shouted.
“She came to see me – said that the old biddies have complained about me” he said. “Told me that I must not wash my clothes”.
“It isn’t that you cannot wash your clothes, it is just that you can’t use ALL the machines at the same time to do it. Especially as you are only putting only one item in each machine. If you could just use one machine then that will be fine” I said.
“Well, they are all lying about me – always accusing me of things and watching what I do” grumbled Dad
“But Dad, you are always nosing on them too, you give me all the gossip just by sitting by the window and watching the goings on”.
“And that one likes me”. I am getting used to Dad seemingly changing the subject.
“Which one, Dad?”
“The one that wants to get into bed with me – she is no better than she ought to be, she keeps turning up” he said accusingly as if I was somehow responsible.
“Dad, about the washing machines” – yes I know, I took the cowards way out and pretended not to have heard the comment.
“And, do I own this flat?” he carried on.
“Yes, of course you do”.
“I don’t want those two to come again – who do they think they are? Eating my food, watching my TV and sitting on my chairs!” Dad was getting rather worked up by this time.
“What two are you talking about?” I said calmly but with a sinking feeling.
“That man and boy who keep coming here, I don’t ask them. They just come in and stay. Don’t offer any rent – well I don’t want them”.
This is going to be good. I need to find out what he is talking about before he gets even more upset. Unfortunately a recent development of Dads seems to be hallucinations. These are very real to him and therefore just as important to solve the issue to his satisfaction. If I don’t settle his emotions down he gets very stressed. He doesn’t always remember what he is stressed about but it brings on all kinds of symptoms.
Finally, Dad agreed to let me deal with the matter but he was to keep me informed by writing down when his two guests unexpectedly visited.
I miss the Dad I knew but the reality is that this is the Dad I must learn to deal with.
You can get more information from
The Dementia page in the Help for Carers section of this website
Search
If you are having trouble finding the information you need on this website you could try using one of the following search options:Local Search
You can use this facility to search the Carers Online database for organisations in West Sussex that may be able to help you.
Search this Site
You can use this facility to search the website for a particular keyword or phrase.
Written: March 2011