As the phoenix . . .
How shall I, then, begin? I have been gone a long time, and now I'm back, I hope. I might as well charge right in.
My mother died on February 25, 2018 of Alzheimers dementia. She had been living with me, under my care, since December of 2012, although she had been exhibiting troubling symptoms for almost twenty years, now that I know what I was looking at. It was a hard journey the entire way, and you can probably trace the progression by the dropoff and cessation of my writing and socialization. The final three months, on home hospice, were especially grueling. But she got to die in her own bed, with her cst curoed against her. I was there to hear here final breath, which makes it all worth it, I guess.
People in the Alzheimers/Dementia world say that a caretaker of a dementia patient will lose hald their cognitive function from the stress. I don't know about that -- how would I, because I'd be the last to know? I do know that I lost my joy and my creativity.
Will I ever write again? I hope so, but I have a lot of healing to do.
My mother died on February 25, 2018 of Alzheimers dementia. She had been living with me, under my care, since December of 2012, although she had been exhibiting troubling symptoms for almost twenty years, now that I know what I was looking at. It was a hard journey the entire way, and you can probably trace the progression by the dropoff and cessation of my writing and socialization. The final three months, on home hospice, were especially grueling. But she got to die in her own bed, with her cst curoed against her. I was there to hear here final breath, which makes it all worth it, I guess.
People in the Alzheimers/Dementia world say that a caretaker of a dementia patient will lose hald their cognitive function from the stress. I don't know about that -- how would I, because I'd be the last to know? I do know that I lost my joy and my creativity.
Will I ever write again? I hope so, but I have a lot of healing to do.