Leading up to Mom's diagnosis, I already mentioned my consult with her first doctor, and yadda yadda yadda. What I didn't speak of were the symptoms that began to come about.
I suppose the first indication that happened was about 11 years ago. Mom and I had been to England for a tour, and although she suffered cracked ribs on our 4th day out, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. After our return, though, about 2 months later she had been at the beach house for a couple of weeks or so. She came to Portland to visit friends and have a short stop-over before heading north to PA.
It was Labor Day. We'd gone to my brother's house for dinner and came home. It was still light and I had put her foodstuffs from the cooler in the refrigerator when she had arrived. She was planning on leaving the next day, so I told her I would put the cooler on the counter, and while I took the dogs for a walk she could load them all back in, and then I would put the cooler in her trunk, so when she left the next day all would be taken care of. She agreed.
I took the dogs out for probably 20 minutes or so. We came up the road from the side so I could have a gander at some of the work I'd done on the house earlier, when I saw something frightening - flames were flickering in the kitchen window!
I grabbed the dogs and ran to the house. The front door was open and smoke was billowing out. I ran indoors and there she was with a small bowl of water from the bathroom. "I'm so sorry!" she cried. I yelled, "What the Hell did you do?" She kept apologizing. The cooler had caught fire and was melting and buring in the sink, on the stove, on the floor, the counter and the cabinets (as it trickled down). I quickly grabbed the baking soda box (luckily it was nearly new and mostly unused) and threw it about. That put the fire out, but the damage was done.
She had put the cooler on the stove, thinking there was more room there for her to work in, then left it to do a crossword (Mom's favorite pastime). She had, inadvertently, hit one of the knobs on the stove, under the cooler, and it heated up (it's a smooth top) as she went to the living room. She smelled smoke and then ran in to see what happened.
Later she was to blame me for putting on the tea kettle before my walk (now, I do like to pre-plan at times, but nothing that extreme - ever!). She did feel quite guilty.
Later, I thought it was karma, but perhaps it was more. She put dish soap into the dishwasher, thinking it would work just as well. Let's just say she was quite embarrassed, and had to come clean to the insurance company.
There were other incidents similar in substance that followed.
I used to phone her Saturday mornings by 8 am, or so, to find her up and about and quite chatty. As time progressed, this diminished, and she wanted me to phone later, and then later, and then it was catch as catch can (she was quite busy). One morning, though, we were chatting and she told me she'd done something that really embarrassed her (so, I feel somewhat guilty in telling it, but it says something about her condition).
She had gone down for a nap in the afternoon. She slept quite soundly, apparently. When she awoke, it was 730, and she thought the sun was rising (rather than setting). So she washed her face quickly, ate some breakfast, and jumped in the car. She needed to drive the 20 or so miles to Sequim to pick up some friends for a hike on Sunday morning.
As she drove, she thought there were storm clouds coming in. She finally made it to her friends' house and knocked. They answered and were quite puzzled. "Why are you here? We weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning - in about 12 hours!?" Things came rushing suddenly to Mom's head.
When she told me I couldn't stop laughing. She was laughing, as well.
Later, a couple of months, the symptoms began coming in in other ways - calling constantly asking for my father's cell phone number (remember, Dad died in 1995). Then she'd call for his address, or for my grandmother's number. She'd be upset when we told her the truth. I asked about her medications, and I began to blame them.
She would come down and be confused taking the train home. She would become lost driving to the bank, or other people's homes (I received many calls). She became quite disorganized, and couldn't find things. She became quite needy and fragile. Her friends called me to tell me her house was a mess, and they weren't sure what was happening. I tried to visit and to field the calls, but I had some obligations here, as well, so I wasn't able to drop everything and run up whenever they called.
Her good friend, Nadya, finally got her to a psychiatrist. I had thought Phyllis had taken her, but Nadya corrected me here. There they took her off the Lorazopan, and some of the anti-depressants she'd been on. From there, she began to improve. The phoning began to calm down. She seemed much more relaxed and able to think.
She came down for Easter and all seemed to be going well. Then she left and needed me to guide her to the freeway. She then became quite lost a few miles from her home. She was confused again.
She had a new doctor, now. This one was in contact with me rather often, as were her friends. One called me at work and told me I needed to go up that day and put her in a home! Well, not being a member of the Retired Ladies Network, I wasn't able to do that. I referred to her friend, Nadya, and her doctor.
As I mentioned earlier, Nadya had sent literature on LBD and I read it. It seemed to fit, but I wasn't sure, as I'm not a doctor. Then, her doctor mentioned it. At this time, though, we had discovered Mom had been back on Lorazopan, and had taken a 2 month supply in 3 weeks. As I told the doctor, then, I needed to see what happened next when she was cut off the drug.
During this time, Mom called both Lawrence and myself about being kidnapped and taken to Alaska (luckily she was able to get away and fly back home). She was hiding out in the house. The next day, she called me to tell me she had been on a walk with my grandmother and she had walked away from Mom, and Mom didn't know what to do. I calmed her down.
The next day, Mom was being held hostage in a house that wasn't hers. She was going to get in her car (it was dark) and go looking for her own home. I told her to find a place to sleep there, and do that in the morning (praying she would take my advice and realize her mistake).
There were other times when she was convinced people were in the house stealing her things - even as we spoke. I heard nothing. I asked her to hold the phone near them so I could see if I recognized the voices (I had a hunch this was a hallucination), and she tried, but she said they could speak only to her, perhaps.
There was the incident the Spring before when she called me and told me she had moved the previous night. She had gone to bed in Port Angeles and awoken in Beaverton. She was praising the moving company for doing it so quickly and stealthily that it didn't wake her, and they moved her into a house that was nearly identical to her home in PA! Then she argued that the Straits of Juan de Fuca were present in Beaverton (they're only 250 miles away....). She had even called Nadya to tell her Goodbye! Nadya phoned me (this had gone on for 3-4 days, and she was furious we wouldn't stop by for coffee) asking why Mom had moved. I had to explain it was all a hallucination, and that Mom was still at her old number. I told her to phone her there. She did. Voila! The hallucination stopped somehow! But she still says she did move...she's stubborn that way...
So, the diagnosis didn't come as a surprise. She didn't really wash her dishes, she didn't do any more housecleaning. She didn't do much yard work. She wasn't doing much at all - she tried, but nothing came of it. The decline, when we actually began piecing it together, was swift.
Now ensconced in St. Anthony's in Portland, Mom is not accepting her lot. She's eased more into the routine, and the fact she receives a massage every Friday (I decided she needed it to help with the tension and anxiety) makes her happy.
There will be more to come, later....about LBD, Mom and her care, and our visits.
I suppose the first indication that happened was about 11 years ago. Mom and I had been to England for a tour, and although she suffered cracked ribs on our 4th day out, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. After our return, though, about 2 months later she had been at the beach house for a couple of weeks or so. She came to Portland to visit friends and have a short stop-over before heading north to PA.
Mom and me at Buchart Gardens 2007 - Victoria BC
It was Labor Day. We'd gone to my brother's house for dinner and came home. It was still light and I had put her foodstuffs from the cooler in the refrigerator when she had arrived. She was planning on leaving the next day, so I told her I would put the cooler on the counter, and while I took the dogs for a walk she could load them all back in, and then I would put the cooler in her trunk, so when she left the next day all would be taken care of. She agreed.
I took the dogs out for probably 20 minutes or so. We came up the road from the side so I could have a gander at some of the work I'd done on the house earlier, when I saw something frightening - flames were flickering in the kitchen window!
I grabbed the dogs and ran to the house. The front door was open and smoke was billowing out. I ran indoors and there she was with a small bowl of water from the bathroom. "I'm so sorry!" she cried. I yelled, "What the Hell did you do?" She kept apologizing. The cooler had caught fire and was melting and buring in the sink, on the stove, on the floor, the counter and the cabinets (as it trickled down). I quickly grabbed the baking soda box (luckily it was nearly new and mostly unused) and threw it about. That put the fire out, but the damage was done.
She had put the cooler on the stove, thinking there was more room there for her to work in, then left it to do a crossword (Mom's favorite pastime). She had, inadvertently, hit one of the knobs on the stove, under the cooler, and it heated up (it's a smooth top) as she went to the living room. She smelled smoke and then ran in to see what happened.
Later she was to blame me for putting on the tea kettle before my walk (now, I do like to pre-plan at times, but nothing that extreme - ever!). She did feel quite guilty.
Later, I thought it was karma, but perhaps it was more. She put dish soap into the dishwasher, thinking it would work just as well. Let's just say she was quite embarrassed, and had to come clean to the insurance company.
There were other incidents similar in substance that followed.
I used to phone her Saturday mornings by 8 am, or so, to find her up and about and quite chatty. As time progressed, this diminished, and she wanted me to phone later, and then later, and then it was catch as catch can (she was quite busy). One morning, though, we were chatting and she told me she'd done something that really embarrassed her (so, I feel somewhat guilty in telling it, but it says something about her condition).
She had gone down for a nap in the afternoon. She slept quite soundly, apparently. When she awoke, it was 730, and she thought the sun was rising (rather than setting). So she washed her face quickly, ate some breakfast, and jumped in the car. She needed to drive the 20 or so miles to Sequim to pick up some friends for a hike on Sunday morning.
As she drove, she thought there were storm clouds coming in. She finally made it to her friends' house and knocked. They answered and were quite puzzled. "Why are you here? We weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning - in about 12 hours!?" Things came rushing suddenly to Mom's head.
When she told me I couldn't stop laughing. She was laughing, as well.
Later, a couple of months, the symptoms began coming in in other ways - calling constantly asking for my father's cell phone number (remember, Dad died in 1995). Then she'd call for his address, or for my grandmother's number. She'd be upset when we told her the truth. I asked about her medications, and I began to blame them.
She would come down and be confused taking the train home. She would become lost driving to the bank, or other people's homes (I received many calls). She became quite disorganized, and couldn't find things. She became quite needy and fragile. Her friends called me to tell me her house was a mess, and they weren't sure what was happening. I tried to visit and to field the calls, but I had some obligations here, as well, so I wasn't able to drop everything and run up whenever they called.
Her good friend, Nadya, finally got her to a psychiatrist. I had thought Phyllis had taken her, but Nadya corrected me here. There they took her off the Lorazopan, and some of the anti-depressants she'd been on. From there, she began to improve. The phoning began to calm down. She seemed much more relaxed and able to think.
She came down for Easter and all seemed to be going well. Then she left and needed me to guide her to the freeway. She then became quite lost a few miles from her home. She was confused again.
She had a new doctor, now. This one was in contact with me rather often, as were her friends. One called me at work and told me I needed to go up that day and put her in a home! Well, not being a member of the Retired Ladies Network, I wasn't able to do that. I referred to her friend, Nadya, and her doctor.
As I mentioned earlier, Nadya had sent literature on LBD and I read it. It seemed to fit, but I wasn't sure, as I'm not a doctor. Then, her doctor mentioned it. At this time, though, we had discovered Mom had been back on Lorazopan, and had taken a 2 month supply in 3 weeks. As I told the doctor, then, I needed to see what happened next when she was cut off the drug.
During this time, Mom called both Lawrence and myself about being kidnapped and taken to Alaska (luckily she was able to get away and fly back home). She was hiding out in the house. The next day, she called me to tell me she had been on a walk with my grandmother and she had walked away from Mom, and Mom didn't know what to do. I calmed her down.
The next day, Mom was being held hostage in a house that wasn't hers. She was going to get in her car (it was dark) and go looking for her own home. I told her to find a place to sleep there, and do that in the morning (praying she would take my advice and realize her mistake).
There were other times when she was convinced people were in the house stealing her things - even as we spoke. I heard nothing. I asked her to hold the phone near them so I could see if I recognized the voices (I had a hunch this was a hallucination), and she tried, but she said they could speak only to her, perhaps.
There was the incident the Spring before when she called me and told me she had moved the previous night. She had gone to bed in Port Angeles and awoken in Beaverton. She was praising the moving company for doing it so quickly and stealthily that it didn't wake her, and they moved her into a house that was nearly identical to her home in PA! Then she argued that the Straits of Juan de Fuca were present in Beaverton (they're only 250 miles away....). She had even called Nadya to tell her Goodbye! Nadya phoned me (this had gone on for 3-4 days, and she was furious we wouldn't stop by for coffee) asking why Mom had moved. I had to explain it was all a hallucination, and that Mom was still at her old number. I told her to phone her there. She did. Voila! The hallucination stopped somehow! But she still says she did move...she's stubborn that way...
So, the diagnosis didn't come as a surprise. She didn't really wash her dishes, she didn't do any more housecleaning. She didn't do much yard work. She wasn't doing much at all - she tried, but nothing came of it. The decline, when we actually began piecing it together, was swift.
Now ensconced in St. Anthony's in Portland, Mom is not accepting her lot. She's eased more into the routine, and the fact she receives a massage every Friday (I decided she needed it to help with the tension and anxiety) makes her happy.
There will be more to come, later....about LBD, Mom and her care, and our visits.
No comments:
Post a Comment