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THE DENTURE ADVENTURE
and other tales
By no
stretch of the imagination is dementia fun, but it can be funny.
Many
people use the term Alzheimer’s (mistakenly called “Old Timer’s” by some) when
talking about a severe memory loss but, from what I’ve heard, Alzheimer’s can
only be definitively diagnosed by an autopsy, and most living folks object to
having one performed on them. Therefore
I opt for using the broader term of “dementia.”
If you’re
dealing with someone who has some form of dementia, one way to survive is to
allow yourself to see the humor in the behaviors involved. It may not be funny when it’s happening, but
it makes for some hilarious stories later. It’s O.K. to laugh. No,
it’s not. You’re a terrible
person. Bad, bad, bad. Oh, phooey on that. I’m gonna laugh.
Imagine
if you couldn’t remember what you just ate, read, said, who you talked to or
where you put things. How stressful
would that be?
To deal
with the stress that her lack of memory caused, my mother began to drink. “But I only drank this much,” she would say,
as she held up her thumb and forefinger, separated by a fraction of an inch, to
indicate a tiny bit. Yes, Mom, but you
drank “this much” 5 times today.
“Why
won’t the pharmacy refill my prescription?”
Well, Mom, because they just refilled your 3-month prescription a month
ago. “Impossible! I write down every pill I take.” And, indeed, she did. The problem was, when she felt stressed, she
just popped a stress pill and wrote it down, with no regard for the fact that
it was to be taken only twice a day.
Oops.
One day
Mom confided in me that she believed her caregiver had stolen her bra. My mother was a small woman. Her caregiver was a large-busted plus size
woman. It did no good reasoning with Mom
that this woman’s bosom would not fit into her bra.
And on a recurring
basis she was convinced that “someone” had stolen her dentures. Ewww!
Who would want to put someone else’s teeth in their mouth? They were found, variously, under her
pillow, on the side of the bathtub, wrapped in a napkin in the trash, until the
day that they were never found again.
While out
shopping with her caregiver, Mom would suddenly reach out and grab men, which
startled and spooked them. As far as I
know, she did not grab anyone’s crotch.
We were out to dinner one night and, although I didn’t consider this odd
at the time (am I O.K.???), I later realized that reaching up and stroking your
waiter’s beard is not appropriate. He
was gracious and made no comment. I
hope we tipped him well.
Mom is
gone now, but it amuses me to know that somewhere out there is a large woman,
miserable in a too-small bra and teeth that don’t fit.