YOU KNOW, thingummygig, oojamaflip, whatsitsname, doodah. Dammit, I’ve forgotten …
It happens to us all from time to time. But imagine what it must be like to be lost in a fog of forgetfulness. Confusing at the very least. Frustrating, frightening, embarrassing too.
The statistics don’t look great. Nowadays, in the Western World, four of the major killers are cancer, heart-disease, diabetes and Alzheimer’s Disease (AD). It’s a grim thought that we’re unlikely to die pain-free and peacefully in our sleep.
My wonderful husband, Leaf, has been diagnosed with AD and we’re told there’s no cure. Well, that’s enough to get me going. I don’t and never have accepted such negativity. As a little girl, my first words were ‘Washish (What’s this?), Won’t and Why?’
So WHAT is DOODAH? It’s a blog with a central theme – is there anything can we do to alleviate the problems that come with AD and the various forms of Dementia?
What WON’T we accept? That our one and only option is to give in and take whatever medication, if any, that’s offered.
And so to WHY? Yes, why do so many of us end up with AD or dementia and, in some cases fall victim whilst still young? There are bound to be reasons. What are they? DOODAH hopes to shed light on possible causes.
We won’t be sticking rigidly to the subject because LIFE goes on and we need to keep upbeat, interested, amused and active. So, like my previous blog for AngloInfo, DOODAH will be a pot pourri of different angles on the subject.
We aim to bring together those who are affected, either as sufferers, potential sufferers, carers, family or friends to share ideas, stories and helpful tips. Readers will be invited to contribute with relevant advice, information or anecdotes (conditions of acceptance will be attached of course).
One of the biggest problems associated with mental illness is loneliness. Many of us are either too fearful or simply don’t know how to communicate with those whose brains are no longer fully functional. Friends and family may disappear out of our lives because they prefer to scuttle off with their eyes shut instead of making an effort. We can help them remember it could happen to them too.
Let’s look into our hearts and keep the doors of compassion open wide.
MOVING HOUSE is rarely an easy business. Most often it’s highly stressful, emotional and exhausting. And sometimes, it can throw us into complete confusion.
It was the end of December 2016 when we finally moved into Au Peysarron in a small village in the Gers department of South West france. The house was cold and every room was packed with stuff the previous owners had left for us to sort out. Our three cats were confined to the little gite and the dogs, one a puppy, were constantly under our feet tussling or demanding attention.
So imagine how it must have felt not being able to work out the geography of our new home. Feeling lost in a fog and frightened.
That’s how it was for Leaf. He wandered round in a daze trying to make sense of the place. I wasn’t much help. I’d damaged my back in the move and had to spend a lot of time in bed.
As the weeks went by and I was able to get up for a few hours a day, we managed to locate some of our belongings. But Leaf was still confused, behaving strangely and regularly losing things – keys, glasses, money, essential tools etc. There was no denying, he wasn’t functioning normally.
I knew something was seriously wrong and that it was time to go see our doctor. For the record, I wrote him an email first, listing all the symptoms. I was shocked and scared to see just how many there were. I feared the worst.
Here are some of the main ones:
• The move has completely disorientated him
• His short-term memory is considerably reduced
• He cannot absorb more than minimum information before becoming overloaded
• His concentration is not good
• He finds it difficult to complete simple tasks especially if distracted and leaves tools and equipment all over the place, forgetting where he’s put them
• He’s no longer confident driving
• He puts things in strange and illogical places
• He repeats himself more and more – telling facts or recounting incidents to friends for instance
We were referred to the Memory Clinic at Lannemezan Hospital for seven hours of tests, comprising discussions with the gerontologist, clinical psychologist, dietician, social worker and memory expert.
Now, our French is pretty reasonable but Leaf found it impossible to respond quickly enough to the memory tests so they were unable to make a full assessment. The gerontologist prescribed a ‘spinal tap’. They extracted samples of spinal fluid which were then sent to a special clinic in Lyon for analysis. It took six weeks for the results to arrive. When they finally did, four markers confirmed he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s.
That was nine months ago during which I’ve been researching far and wide. I’m now ready to pass on useful links and book recommendations as well as info on getting help from the French Social Services. And there will be tips and hints gleaned from a myriad of sources on changing our lives to accommodate the range of restrictions now facing us.
I’ve already learned there is much we can do to adapt to the apparently insurmountable vagaries of the disease. Carers and sufferers alike need courage, practical assistance and comfort.
The road ahead is full of potholes. If we can spot them, we stand a chance of avoiding them.
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