The Confusion of Dementia


by Harriet Hodgson - Date: 2006-12-04 - Word Count: 493 Share This!

My father-in-law is 98 1/2 years old and lives in one-room apartment on the Assisted Living floor of a retirement community. Dad relies on his walker to get around and he can't go far these days. But one day he asked to go to the family cabin in Brule, Wisconsin, and family members honored this request.

One son and his wife would drive Dad to the cabin and my husband and I would drive him home. We almost cancelled the trip because it was raining so hard and fog was closing in, but we did not want to disappoint Dad. When we reached the cabin Dad was already there, huddled in his winter coat, rubbing his hands, and complaining about the cold.

Boosting the thermostat did not warm Dad. As soon as we finished supper he went to bed and slept for 14 hours. The next morning Dad was still cold and, more importantly, very confused. He emerged from the bedroom in his pajamas and asked, "Where are we? What are we doing?"

"We're at the cabin," we answered. Dad drank some juice, ate a bowl of cereal, and went back to bed. He got up two hours later and asked the same questions. Our responses did not quell Dad's anxiety and he returned to bed.

Dad was due for his medicine at noon so we roused him and asked him to get dressed. "I didn't think I would have to do that," he complained. These scenes -- wanting to stay in bed, refusing to get dressed, confusion about our location -- played over and over. Seeing Dad's confusion was painful for us and being at the cabin was painful for him. "I am never coming again," he declared.

Though we had planned to stay another day at the cabin, Dad was so stressed we decided to take him home early. We packed quickly and helped Dad into the car. As we drove down the dirt driveway Dad looked around and said, "Good-bye Brule." His simple words and the finality they represented brought tears to my eyes.

Dad slept almost all the way and awakened 45 minutes from home. "We will get you back in time for dinner," I said. Dad smiled. When we pulled up in front of his building Dad was anxious to get out of the car. My husband helped Dad with his walker and escorted him inside. A staff person welcomed Dad and the Assisted Living staff also welcomed him. Their greetings pleased Dad and he was obviously glad to be home.

This experience taught us several things. First, long car trips exhaust Dad. Taking him out of his small world -- a world he understands -- is very stressful. We want Dad to have the best quality of life possible and, though we will continue to honor his requests, we may not honor all of them. From now on, the decisions we make will be based upon what is best for Dad's health and well-being.

Copyright 2006 by Harriet Hodgson


Related Tags: alzheimers, dementia, confusion

http://www.harriethodgson.com http://www.healthwriter.blogspot.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a freelance nonfiction writer for 28 years. She is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. He 24th book, "Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief," written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is posted on Amazon. You will find another review on the American Hospice Foundation Website under the "School Corner" heading.

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