A little forgetful

When I had my sixtieth birthday, a few years ago, I got just a little bit scared. Well, not really scared but I most definitely became acutely aware of the passage of time. I started to do the math of longevity. You know what I mean. Every once in a while I’d think about how many years do I have left and what’s on my bucket list/fuggetaboudit list.

Not only did I start doing the math on a far too – regular basis, but I began worrying about my mind. Did everyone have an Alzheimer’s/oldtimers joke, an adult diaper joke, a walker/scooter joke? Was everyone over the age of 60 fodder for the age mill? More than anything I wanted to know if I would I slowly start to lose control of me and worse, would I remember where I left my keys or wonder what I’m doing in the spare bedroom or how I got to the 401 because I seemed to have missed the whole trip or why I went to the grocery store without a list?

I began to worry about telling a story to a captive group (my kids and their kids) without offering “stop me if you’ve heard this before” because chances are, I would have told it before and couldn’t remember if I did. And, how did the age mania begin?

About 20 years ago when my Mom was in her sixties (hmm, could be a hint), she had been an amazing woman in so many ways. She was a wonderful folk artist, a great cook, a fun grandma, a creative baker, a Tai Chi enthusiast and a generous neighbour. But, it was clear to the family, her memory wasn’t her strong suit. When Mom was about 50, she was the pedestrian victim in a hit-and-run accident and suffered a brain injury that, we were told by her doctor, “shouldn’t be a concern.”

The good doctor said something along the line of, “She’ll be as right as rain in no time.” But it turned out to be “goodbye short-term memory” and “hello, stop me if you’ve heard this before and where are my keys?” We didn’t know it then, but a brain injury from a head trauma can lead to dementia.

For the next 25 years or so of my Mom’s life, we got used to the interesting twists and turns she took as she navigated through her world. Sometimes she couldn’t remember how long something had been in the oven— often there wasn’t anything in the oven and, indeed, the oven hadn’t even been turned on. Once in a while Mom would start to hang laundry on the line, but be distracted by the tomatoes that needed to be picked. Neither the laundry nor the tomatoes got her full attention because there could easily be another distraction.

Occasionally Mom would go for a walk in the neighbourhood she’d known since her childhood. If she didn’t return within the hour, an AFB (all-family bulletin) was issued and the search was on. Often she was found miles away from home, strolling along without a concern in the world and completely unaware of her surroundings. On a couple of occasions the neighbours and police were called in to hunt for Mom.

Mom was one of the half-million Canadians living with dementia. At the onset, she was one of the 71,000 Canadians who were under the age of 65 when diagnosed and part of the 62 per cent who are women. Since there wasn’t any evidence of dementia or Alzheimer’s disease in her family, her dementia was officially attributed to “head trauma.”

“In 2010, there were over 110,000 new cases of dementia per year. Within a generation, there will be over 250,000 new cases per year. Over the next 25 years, without a medical breakthrough, more than four million Canadians will have developed Alzheimer’s disease or a related dementia.” Alzheimer Society Canada.

That’s a lot of people, like you and me, wandering around wondering where the H E double hockey sticks the car keys are and if we were going up the stairs or down the stairs. The impact, on the Canadian economy, of all forms of dementia is astronomical. Over 20 billion dollars per year is spent on health care services, caregiving and the price of lost productivity and lost wages, and the number diagnosed just keeps rising. You and I know it isn’t really a laughing matter.

On October 3, 2012 a Caregivers Retreat will be held at Isaiah Tubbs Resort. The registration fee is $25 per person. If someone you know is a caregiver to a dementia or Alzheimer’s sufferer, please consider helping them with one day of respite care or consider making a donation to the Alzheimer’s Society Prince Edward, located at 90 King Street in Picton. Someone is bound to remember your generosity and the research to find a cure can continue.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca