Friday, February 29, 2008

Dementia--A Poem

Why Do You Speak for Me?
By Paula Farris

I can hear you
I know you said my name
My mind may not know how to answer
But don’t ignore me just the same

I am trapped inside this blank slate
Fleeting memories floating by
I know that they were part of me
But I cannot tell you why

I see and hear and touch and taste
A scent can tug at the edges of my thoughts
I know that at sometime I was more
But all of that is lost, is lost

Who are you?
Who am I?
I don’t remember . . .
Even enough to cry . . .

Copyright 20008, All Rights Reserved

After Talking to My Mother Like She Was My Child . . .

I knew I had to start this blog.

Writing is therapeutic for me and right now I need all the help I can get.

My Mother has "memory problems"--dementia is the medical term used.

The Dr. hasn't called it Alzheimer's Disease, hasn't even tested for it. But from the research I have done having a name for it wouldn't make it any easier to handle.

Right now Mom is in the hospital with a huge blood clot in her left leg. The clot extends from just above her hip down to her knee. Today she had a procedure done to insert a tube through the clot to release a pwerful clot busting drug (TPA?) into the clot to try to break it up so that they can go into her leg tomorrow and remove the clot.

Because of the high risk of bleeding she is in the I.C.U.

They gave her Morphiene for the pain, but after awhile that wears off.

When she woke up briefly, she was very disoriented, scared, confused, and in a lot of pain. And I had to convince her that she COULD NOT move her left leg.

I had the benefit of that leg being in an immobilizer and also being tied down with a restraint, but when you are in pain you try to move to relieve the pain.

I had to talk to my Mother like she was my two year old.

"Mom, you have to be still. The Dr. isn't being mean by tying you to the bed. He is trying to help you. When you are in the hospital you have to do what the Drs. and nurses say so that you can get better. Do you understand that you are in the hospital?"

She replied, "It hurts. . ."

Dementia is sad.

Paula Farris