I would like to share with you this article written by Dawn Thomas, the daughter on the cover of the book, “Cracking the Dementia Code” shortly after the passing of her mom, Geraldine.
How It Began
My mother’s cancer showed up quite by accident. She had been complaining about a sore shoulder for some time. Because of her Alzheimer’s, she couldn’t remember why it ached, what she did to hurt it and she also had trouble explaining where and how it hurt.
The Xray of her shoulder showed a cloudiness in her right lung. Cloudiness could be an infection or pneumonia. She was treated with antibiotics.
We had been participating in an Alzheimer’s research study in the valley which meant regular memory tests, MRI’s and physical assessments while she trialed a new drug that might help the next generation, my generation, in the treatment of Alzheimer’s. These tests also alerted her medical team to some concerning physical changes.
My mom’s dementia seemed to be progressing quickly and she began to feel unwell. We couldn’t safely leave her alone. After the antibiotics failed to work, more tests showed a significant tumor on her lung.
Treatment As A Blessing
We learned quickly that treatment options for someone with dementia are very different than for a well person. The tests to be done would be extremely invasive and difficult for her to understand and undergo. Whenever a body with dementia goes under anesthetic, another piece of the person we love disappears and doesn’t come back.
Not testing or treating was not the decision we wished for, but it was one that was easy and sensible to make. My mom had already forgotten the conversation but was delighted to have seen her favorite doctor; the doctor who always took good care of her, the doctor she thought cut her hair and fixed her car and made everything okay.
She was obliviously happy. What a blessing.
It was a heartache for us. The dementia had been difficult to comprehend, difficult to predict, difficult to care for, impossible to treat. Cancer we understood. It was solid and real and predictable and an end.
Care became more complex and days became treasured and full of emotion. We were at the mercy of the health care system and the wonderful people who work in the front lines. Cancer meant we would have another doctor, another nurse specialist, a bright and private room, a parking pass and keys to the door.
Then she stabilized. The cancer hadn’t spread as we thought and because of this she was moved without notice 95 km away into a ward room with men. Not only did we lose the extra help we had gained when she had cancer, but we lost the favorite and familiar doctor she had had for years.
My mom died two weeks later; with love and light and grace.
Dementia protected my mom from knowing, understanding and remembering. Cancer, however, for a time, meant more; more help, more attention, more resources, more support in less time.
My wish is for every family like mine with a loved one with dementia to have more.
