When We Forget That We Forget

I used to tell a story about “mom and the peach pie,” a miniature that my friend, whose mother had dementia, shared with me. It always produced a good laugh. That, however, was before the advent of social sensitivity to dementia and cognitive diseases. Here’s how the story went:

Mom came into the kitchen one afternoon and spotted a freshly baked peach pie that my friend was cooling. Mom beamed and said, “I’d love a piece of that pie,” to which her daughter replied, “okay Mom, here’s a slice. Enjoy.” Mom finished the pie, left the room, and 15 minutes later returned to the kitchen and, as though she was seeing the pie for the first time, exclaimed: “I’d love a piece of that pie.” She came and went twice more.

My friend and I share a lot of these stories and laughed like hell. It’s a form of gallows humor that kicks in when situations are so bizarre and overwhelming that trying to deal with them becomes its own form of torment. One such situation faces me, now, and that is the behavior of my mother who has dementia: she simply doesn’t remember that she forgets.

Prior to sustaining brain damage and the dementia that followed, presumably as a result, she had been one of the brightest people I know. She was a computer coder long before the 10-year-olds-of-now began coding, she was a talented pianist, and she held two master’s degrees. Although diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease and dementia, her symptoms haven’t followed the typical pattern and progression of Alzheimer’s. She continues to be articulate, mobile, and aside from displaying certain eccentricities and a very poor memory, she is high functioning at age 88.

That she doesn’t remember that she forgets, presents its own special problems: first, she cannot understand why she can’t get her driver’s license back, even after failing several cognitive tests. She forgets that she went through every legal channel there was to regain her license, all to naught. And, she won’t give up her car keys. According to her, she wants to go out for a spin whenever she wants. “Oh,” acquaintances tell me, “just take her keys away from her!” Easier said than done. Try finding a car key in a nine-room home.

The challenge of living with a family member who has dementia is an adventure. They are often suspicious of the motives of family and friends, and no manner of persuasion will assuage their fear that there is no one they can trust. Because my mother is suspicious of everyone’s motives she won’t accept assistance in handling financial matters and continues to make imprudent money decisions. Short of obtaining a conservatorship, I can’t think of a way to reason with her about turning over at least some of the reins of her life to another person who can help her.

Here’s a suggestion I want to pass on to everyone who has aged parents or loved ones. Pay attention to changes in their behavior and personality. If they express concern that they are getting forgetful, take it seriously. It’s a good time to bring together family members or ask a trusted friend to assist with legal, medical and financial decisions that could affect the rest of a loved one’s life. I believe that we are responsible for ourselves until we can no longer be. Before any of us reaches that point, let’s ask for the help we need to ensure legal and financial protection, so that it’s there when we need it.

We want to hear from you, so feel free to share tips, ideas, and resources for seniors with Grannybooster. Email me, Maris Somerville, at info@grannybooster.com