Descent into Alzheimer's Disease

“I said I’m not going to do it!” My mother yelled as one hand grabbed onto my hair and my sister tried to keep her from hurting me as we tried to get her into her bra. We had managed to finish a rather trying bath, with her half cooperating, yet fussing and agitated the whole time. Even though she usually likes to get dressed after a bath, not this time. We got her dressed, but she escaped before I could cut her toenails or get socks on her. She wouldn’t allow it when I approached her later, either. She was in a bad mood all night and this morning, too. However, she was happy and content when I picked her up from adult care today. I was relieved, because it worries me when she is constantly so agitated. Hopefully she’ll feel okay this weekend and be more manageable.

I recently found a journal I kept when we lived next door. I was basically trying to keep track of what was going on with Mom. It’s very interesting to look back and remember. In the summer of 1997, Mom was locking the keys in the car, hiding the keys to the house, hiding money and her purse, etc. She would never remember that she had hidden anything and always thought we were stealing her stuff.

Another symptom she had at that time dealt with delusions. A thought would go through her mind and even though it was entirely false, it would stick with her and she would remember it as if it had really happened. She would get stuck on something and dwell on it for days or weeks before moving on.

When she was in the first stages of Alzheimer’s Disease, she made lots of notes for herself and that helped a lot. She had a watch with the date and day on it and she could match it to the calendar. In the summer of 1998, she lost that ability, too. She had an appointment with the eye doctor and it was written on her calendar. She called them over and over and even went over there a couple of times. I finally had to erase it so she couldn’t see it and just start keeping the notes on my calendar.

Shortly after this, I had her doctor tell her she was not allowed to drive anymore. What a nightmare that was! She drove a few times after that, but that was basically the end. She became so enraged at the doctor that she never went back to him again. She told all sorts of untrue stories about things he did and said to her (I was with her, so I knew they were fabricated).

All during those years, Mom would rant and rave for extended periods. She was finally given medication when we took her to her new doctor. She was started on Aricept and Mellaril in the middle of July, 1998. She showed marked improvement after that and not only was her confusion less overwhelming, her rages slowed down, too.

By June of 1999 she started asking us to spend the night with her all the time. I wanted her to stay at our house, because she had no AC, but she never would. It was clear she was uncomfortable being alone and indeed should not have been alone, but we didn’t move in with her until September ‘99 after my older son joined the USAF. Even then, she fought tooth and nail against us moving in. She was not able to understand the alternative was living in some sort of facility.

Now, in 2002, she has lost so many of her abilities. I think she would score maybe a 3 or 4 on the MMSE test. There are no more rages where she goes on and on endlessly. Now she only fusses if someone is messing with her and she stops immediately when they back off. She can drink and eat, but is unable to pour herself something. If I don’t have it poured for her, she’ll drink out of the container. Yesterday I walked into the kitchen and she was standing beside of the refrigerator with it’s door wide open, eating Cole slaw from the carton with her hand. She still goes to the bathroom by herself, but doesn’t clean herself properly afterwards. More often than not she can tie her sneakers correctly. She has to be buckled into the car and sometimes must have the doors opened and closed for her. She doesn’t recognize family members in photos very often anymore. She still likes to hug and kiss, but not as often anymore. Occasionally she’ll laugh about something happening on TV, but it has been quite a while since she could follow a story. Much of her time is spent either sleeping or pacing and eating. Only small portions of time seem to be ‘quality’ time where she is content and happy or interacting with someone. I’m sure she doesn’t feel well at times, and I wish she could tell me what is wrong. This is turning into a big guessing game and her chances for good days are partially dependent on my ability to figure out what problems she may be having. My sister helps me in this regard. Right now she has suggested the doctor change Mom’s anti-depressant and I will let the doctor know what she said on our next visit.

So we learn to appreciate the small victories as this disease progresses. A happy smile is worth so much more than I ever imagined. In the end you just try to make sure they aren’t in pain and go for any moment of pleasure or happiness that is available.

James 3:10 Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be.