FTD -Living with Dad

Happy Father’s Day to all those men out there who are dads, granddads, stepfathers, foster dads, and those who step up when dads are absent, including the many mothers who do double duty.

Today, we honor those men who are or have been in our lives to guide, teach, support and love us. For those of us whose father is no longer with us, it is a day filled with memories, hopefully good ones, and love. My fatherly experience was very good. My dad was a hard-working, dignified, decent man who loved his family. He died in 2000 at the age of 68 from the lung cancer that had been growing, despite his smoking cessation fifteen years before. My father-in-law also met the same fate at the age of 44. My husband was 19 when he died and had been looking forward to spending his adult years sharing good times with his dad. My brother-in-law was 11. His dad’s death at such a young age had a significant effect on his life. So, our Dad longevity track record is not very good. My husband loved his boys. Although they were grown men when FTD made its appearance, it still had a devastating effect on them, as it does on all of us.

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My Dad aged 17

“Dad” memories for me are filled with Christmases – all of us in his and Mum’s bed on Christmas morning, him trying on a new gifted hat in his pajamas. With summer vacations, candy and comics on a Friday night (payday). Walking half a mile down the road to meet him from work, just so I could get a ride home on the back of his motorcycle. The “What time d’you call this?” nights. The “yes, I suppose I’ll come and get you” midnight response to my pleading phone calls when I missed the last bus. (I was banking on the fact that by the time he got to me his fury would have subsided, which it always did). The memories of my dad include family Sunday dinners and early morning breakfasts together, just the two of us, then he would take me to meet my ride for work. Happy times. I was shielded from a lot of the ugliness in the world and will always love him and my mother for ensuring that my brother and I had such a happy childhood.

He made some mistakes my dad, which meant that we did not see each other as much as I would have liked when I was older. He married another woman after divorcing my mother to whom he was married for over twenty-five years. I was married and in my own home by that time, but the realization that he wanted something other than “us” was shocking to me. We saw each other of course, but it was difficult for me get over the fact that he had wanted to destroy our family unit and be a part of someone else’s. But he did and I accepted it because it made him happy. It was hard to watch and be part of but I did it.

When your father has FTD, he becomes like mine did – absent. Thankfully my dad did not “disappear” during my formative years, but after I was grown, but it was still hard. Having your dad at home while having FTD is painful. It makes you angry and resentful. Why can’t you be like other dads? Even though my sons were adults, it was so difficult for them to watch, I know. My elder son, Chris, was living in another state at the time, so he lived it vicariously through his brother and I. He would call and talk to his dad, and as time went by the conversations became more and more one-sided. But Alan so loved the calls, even though he could not speak very well. Just the contact made him feel “normal” again I think. My younger son, Adam, lived just around the corner from Alan and I, so he was much more involved in the day-to-day aspects of FTD care. He watched as his dad disappeared slowly into the abyss, feeling helpless. He was very protective of me. We would talk about what was coming next and how we would handle the increasingly bizarre and agitated behaviors. He has told me since that he would dread every text or call from me – anticipating that some dreadful event had taken place. We discussed how cruel it is to watch someone you love go through FTD and that there is no way out until the disease decides it is time.

March 1999 leaving EnglandOur boys had a close relationship with their dad – one of the ties being football. After we moved to the U.S., we would gather at the weekends, sometimes at 4am, to watch our beloved team play as the game was broadcast live from England. Chris is most like him, but Adam and Alan shared the passion for football the most. It broke Adam’s heart when, as the disease progressed, Alan could no longer sit and focus on the game, getting up and leaving the room to attend to laundry or some other imagined matter more important. His responses to the game would be to repeat comments by either Adam or the commentators. He had lost his passion for the game and the very essence of who he was. It was hard for Adam to see and it was hard for me to watch as their relationship faded against their will. FTD unremittingly takes every last drop of passion and volition.

If you are a child, living with a father who has FTD must be strange to say the least. Protecting one’s children is a priority, so those women who are in this position have to do double duty. Trying to ensure that the children have as “normal” an upbringing as possible, and caring for a partner who has no insight into the terribleness that is being wrought upon the ones they love has to be the most difficult thing they will ever do. It’s doubly heartbreaking for them since they know that their children’s father will never see the dance recitals, track meets, swim meets, weddings and grandchildren that are to come. FTD knows no bounds. Fathers become children before their children become fathers. The slow regression must be, for the children, like welcoming a new baby into the family. But how hard is that explain to your friends? How strange to have to explain your dad’s behavior to your friends. How uncomfortable for you to have your friends over and have your dad act all weird. Some kids of course, take it all in their stride, at least on the surface. They accept and accommodate with the resilience that we know kids have. But the resentment, for which they feel guilty of course, is bound to come. Other kids have parents who divorce, or have cancer, or die in an accident. But these kids of FTD have to live with changing behaviors every day, with no end in sight for several years. They may have to move, change schools, give up things due to financial constraints and lose some of their family or friends because they just don’t understand and fade away. Their dad is around, but unable to go to graduation. Present but unable to contribute at the PTA meetings. At home, but needs a babysitter. Alive, but no longer with us.

So, this Father’s Day, I wish all dads a lovely day. But I send the FTD kids a special wish that somehow, their life will be enriched by the experience of being forced to care. That they will one day understand how important they were in their dad’s life. And that they will be able to celebrate future Father’s Days with fond memories from better times.

Daddy and me

FTD – The Empty Chair

empty chair

Back from a wonderful vacation, I am sitting here this morning, reading my email, checking my bank account, generally loafing around drinking coffee. I came across several new posts on a Facebook Support group page of which I am a member. The sadness, anger, grief and frustration reminds me of what once was for us and also how thankful I am that part of my life is over. I also noticed that since I joined the group over three years ago, the numbers have risen from a little over 400 to more than 2000 today.

The same issues and questions arise on a weekly basis – “my husband keeps escaping at night”, “my wife uses the ‘F’ word frequently in public”, “my mother does not acknowledge my new baby”, “how do I get my loved one to eat anything but Cheerios?”. It is tempting to comment about how the issue has been discussed previously in the group, but these “new” people don’t know that. They are caught in the maelstrom of just trying to get through every day. Fighting against apathy, fury, cursing, incontinence and constant pacing. It is hard to see outside of your cage when every fiber of your being is just focused on keeping everyone safe and surviving with your own sanity intact. The endless days morph into one long purgatory, all while watching your previous life disappear.

I conjure up in my head, some way to consolidate all the things we know. All the tips and tricks that the ingenious care partners come up with every day, in order to make their lives a little easier. To maintain independence and dignity for their loved ones as long as possible and to maintain comfort and safety, health and wellness for all concerned. It would be a mammoth task and would take someone far wiser and knowledgeable than me to write. I am not a clinical expert, nor did I face many of those challenges on my own journey with my husband. since every FTD patient’s path is different. It would be difficult to have the perfect guide. There are many, many tomes out there that talk about “dementia care” and “caregiving”. I have read some of them, but often find them a little patronizing and authoritative. I think what’s needed is practical advice for sure, but also incorporate the humor, humility and understanding of the sadness that accompanies taking care of someone you love.

I think that perhaps I would be a little reluctant to even take on this huge task because 1) there is a potential for rejection (I am only human after all ha ha!) and 2) I cannot even come close to pretending to know even one-quarter of what there is to know about FTD. So I guess I would really need to know from all of you, what would be the most helpful? Most caregivers have little time to sit and read a book or watch a video, so how can this information be best communicated? Quick-read lists? Page-a-day bullet points? I would love to know.

It occurs to me that in the three years since I started talking to these wonderful people in the FTD world, little has changed. Much has been discovered about the condition and physiology of FTD, but nothing about how we can treat or even cure it. Progress is slow indeed. So the focus needs to be on education and awareness, on talking endlessly about FTD and its effects. Susan Suchan, a courageous woman who is diagnosed with FTD and early Alzheimer’s disease, fights the good fight on a daily basis. She puts herself out there, faces her demons and talks openly about what her life is like with her constant companion, the bastard disease. I can only aspire to the level of strength and dignity she shows us.


My vacation was tinged with more than a little sadness. I traveled with my husband’s younger brother David, and his wife Lydia. We have a very close relationship, both before, during and after FTD slapped us in the face. Throughout the trip, I was very aware several times of the empty chair that was usually present at the table where we were enjoying drinks, a meal, or  show. Just laughing together as we always have. Tables are usually set for even numbers of people. Since there were three of us, or five if we were joined by another couple, I was acutely aware of the space where my husband would have been. I’m pretty sure David felt it a couple of times too. The four of us always had such great times together, it would be hard not to. It didn’t spoil the trip, we still had fun and laughed a lot. It made me smile that we carried him to that place in our hearts and included him in our conversation and jokes. People we met always asked where he (my husband) was, assuming I was separated or divorced until we explained our relationship.

Since I returned, I have reflected on the comments and responses I received from those people. They meant well of course. Sympathy and smiles usually. When I jumped back onto Facebook this morning and read the anguish and pain of those still in the trenches of FTD, I realized that sharing our journey is more important than ever. Sharing the frustration and hurt so that others understand, even though I still don’t. Of course, on vacation, that is not what people want to hear. They smile and nod politely when you explain that your husband died. I did not share the causes or reasons: or at least, I did not go into great detail –they don’t really want to know. Neither would I in their situation. But the experience reinforces that we exclusive FTD club members have to look to ourselves for support and help.

Hence the desire to produce some kind of tangible assistance. We say that if you have met one person with FTD, you have met one person with FTD. The uniqueness and singularly different behaviors, conditions and attitudes means that there can never be a one-size-fits-all solution. Even in the heady, hoped-for days to come when there will be a cure, or at least some kind of treatment, it will never fit everyone. Our unique human DNA means that no single solution will help everyone. So, right now, the best we can hope for is better understanding and awareness, and better resources with which to manage the daily horrors and heartfelt misery which sometimes, often — engulfs the FTD caregiver.

I feel so very thankful and fortunate that I can take vacations and generally enjoy life, different though it is from how I thought it would be.

AZStateCapitol

Yesterday, Sunday June 12, I had the honor of speaking at an event at our State Capitol building. An Awareness vigil to bring FTD to the forefront as we are part of the “tsunami” of dementia – Alzheimer’s, FTD, CBD and all the other sub-types. Our Governor has declared June 2016 as “Alzheimer’s Awareness month” in Arizona. The Capitol building will be lit up in purple for the whole month. Hopefully, this will be an annual event. Governor Ducey made an official Declaration to that effect. The Mayor of Tempe, Mark Mitchell,  has declared his city as a “dementia-friendly community”. Progress indeed. As different as we know FTD is to Alzheimer’s for many reasons, we are such a small number, relatively speaking, that the only way we can bring attention to ourselves is to be a part of a much bigger effort to combat all types of dementia – young and older-onset. We FTD people can be a little precious sometimes about our sub-type. “It’s not like other dementias”, which is definitely true. However, we cannot isolate ourselves from the potential publicity, funding and general awareness that must surely come. I plan to keep moving forward with that goal in mind, always aware that the empty chair is the one that will bring me the most power and the courage to speak out.

The empty chair needs to be filled with love and understanding in honor of our loved ones’ fight against the bastard disease and others like it. Awareness is everything. The behaviors and challenges that arise from dementia seem insurmountable at times. Overwhelming for those who are constantly struggling to keep it together -raise children, care for aging parents, hold down full-time work, pay bills, hold on to their own sanity. Feeling the burn from family members and friends who desert you can be the ultimate insult. Shunning by members of a less-than-educated society can make the isolation one feels even worse.

So what if someone points at you in a restaurant? So what if someone is speaking louder than is usually considered appropriate? Hell, people without dementia do that all the time! People chat loudly on their cell phone in public like they were in their own house, even at the movie theater. FTD’s childlike behavior is regarded with uncomfortable sideways glances, table manners suddenly become the focus in public -like everyone eats with etiquette anyway these days. It can seem as though every little foible that develops from FTD is a reason for others to regard someone as inferior. Caregivers have to develop a pretty thick skin to ignore that. The shame and embarrassment of public outbursts, incontinence or inappropriate behavior is constant. Let them stare. let them tut-tut. Let them sit in your chair for a day. Then let them tell you how they “had no idea!” That they did not understand what you are dealing with on a daily basis. Then and only then do they even come close to having a right to an opinion.

I would swap the empty chair at my table for being able to stand proud and give rebuttals to remarks or just give an onlooker “the look”. You know, the look you used to give your kids when they were about to start doing something in public that they shouldn’t.

The empty chair at my table is reserved for those with understanding, empathy and love. It is not for the faint-hearted, not for the weak.  It is built  with strength to love and support those who go on, fighting every day for awareness and understanding, for resources and education. Many people sit in the chair. They can never replace the one who left it, to whom it will always belong, but the new people who briefly sit there bring me hope and strength.

The keynote speaker at our Awareness vigil yesterday spoke of the statistics and data surrounding dementia; of the sheer numbers of people who will be affected by dementia in the years to come.  Those diagnosed and those who will care for them. Shouting about it now may help to deal with it all, but we have to do it now. This is not something that can wait. It’s here, it’s already started. Without adequate resources for care, entire families will succumb to hardship. We cannot let that happen. I for one will use my knowledge and strength to raise the banner of awareness. To quote Maya Angelou,  I hope I can –

Be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud

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AFTD Educational Conference 2016 – New BFF’s!

AFTD Conference 2016

On May 12, 13 and 14th, I was privileged to have the opportunity to attend this gathering for those who have been affected and care partners. There were over 300 people in attendance, 45 of them being diagnosed with FTD. For me, as an alum of this club no-one wants to be in, the best part was meeting up with so many virtual friends that I have made as a result of the bastard disease. (Ha! Take that FTD!)

I will share some of the highlights that jumped out to me and information from some of the presentations, but what struck me the most were the meetings with people, most of whom I had only “met” virtually before. I was touched by the immediate friendship and love that happened among people who, if it were not for Facebook and FTD, would never have come into contact at all. But more about that later.

In his Welcome Address to the Conference, Jary Larson, the AFTD Board Chair, spoke of his personal connection to FTD and about inspiration, advocacy, and spreading awareness. But by far, the most powerful illustration of all these attributes was offered by Susan Suchan. IMG_2385Susan is diagnosed with the PPA variant of FTD and is a tireless and charismatic champion of the cause. You can see more of Susan’s courageous and powerful story in “SUSAN’S STORY” but for now, take it from me that she is the funny, generous and staunch advocate that we all need. I know that many people gain comfort from her courage and the fact that she is willing to put herself out there and show the world what FTD is, what it does to people and their families and show that dementia of any kind, but especially FTD, changes a person’s abilities, but not who they are. 

After the opening, there were two excellent presentations by physicians –an overview of the various FTD disorders and subtypes by Dr Alvin Holm, followed by a presentation of advances in research and what is/will be happening to find out why and how the object of our misery comes about. Dr David Knopman spoke of small advances being made, but it is agonizingly slow progress, with clinical trials taking place over the next five years in longitudinal genetic studies.IMG_2386

One of the most exciting things that followed the medical information was the announcement by Dianna Wheaton from the the Association for Frontotemporal Degeneration – AFTD, of the implementation of an FTD Disorders Registry. This is a chance to tell your story! The Registry needs feedback via research but mainly from anecdotal “storytelling” from people like you which will enable the collection of data to contribute to further research. The Registry will pull together all the scattered pieces of information to provide a critical tool in research, funding and demographic data. The Registry will advance the science towards a cure, and your story will become part of the movement. You can join the Registry HERE and follow them on social media Facebook and Twitter

Following Dianna’s presentation, there was a Q and A session with the panel of physicians, most of which centered around genetic research and potential treatments. People were really interested in these things obviously, but sadly, there were few definitive answers and many “we don’t know”s. The good news is that more funding seems to finally be coming our way and there is great hope for progress, albeit slow.

During these presentations there were separate concurrent sessions for diagnosed people to attend. The topic was “Building Bridges”, presented by Matt Sharp and Teresa Webb from the AFTD. By all accounts, it was very informative and engaging.

During a nice boxed lunch, there was opportunity for networking and socializing with everyone that you hadn’t yet connected with. I had the privilege of meeting up with Susan Suchan and some other people who actually have FTD. They are such a shining example of never giving up, and working diligently to ensure that the word gets out. They fight the good fight for everyone else and never cease to amaze me with their good humor, humility and courage. It was so good to meet up with people I had only ever seen on Facebook and hear their stories in person. I also reconnected with a couple of old friends, both of whom I found through FTD – Geri Hall and Rebekah Wilson, who were presenting in the breakout sessions at the Conference. Geri is a renowned expert on FTD, although she is very humble and modest about it. She is a PhD and an Advanced Practice Nurse and Clinical Nurse Specialist at Banner Alzheimer’s Institute in Phoenix. Among other things, Geri has developed many programs of care strategies for people with dementia and sees people with complex behavioral needs. Rebekah is a Social Worker who works to provide education regarding dementia and dementia care standards. She has devoted much of her career to improving the quality of life for those with dementia and their care partners and in hospice support.  I first came to meet Geri and Rebekah when they co-facilitated FTD Support groups here in Phoenix. They were immensely helpful to me and many others during times of crisis and in helping manage behaviors and placement issues.

When we returned from the break, Susan Dickinson, the Executive Director for the AFTD, presented some information about upcoming events and news regarding funding and awareness. In August of this year, the 10th Annual International Meeting for Frontotemporal Disorders will take place in Munich, Germany. There will be research applications, advocacy and biomarkers initiatives. Raising awareness is key here too, and about 10 countries will be represented. World Awareness Week will take place this year from September 25 through October 2nd, with many Food For Thought events taking place. This year, there has also been the “#whoilove” campaign that took place in February, where several families, caregivers and diagnosed persons made short videos about their experiences and posted them on the AFTD website to encourage donation and awareness. Susan also spoke of the increasing number of support groups now facilitated by the AFTD and volunteers, both phone and “Zoom” online groups. 12 new groups were started in 2016, making 32 in all, with 41 group facilitators. the AFTD has been busy providing training in group dynamics, facilitation skills and current information. The focus is on high-quality and supporting challenges. There is also a helpline, email contact address and lots of information on their website http://www.theaftd.org/

Dr Alvin Holm presented a Care Paradigm for people with FTD, one which includes disease-specific therapies, wellness management, in addition to environmental support.  Dr. Holm’s described the physical, caregiver and expectational support needed for persons with FTD very accurately and with compassion and knowledge. One of the biggest takeaways of the day for me was when he said-

Environmental support is to someone with FTD what a prosthetic limb is to an amputee

The four breakout sessions for the afternoon were:

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  • “Supporting Each Other” – specifically for diagnosed persons
  • “Movement Disorders” – for people interested in PSP, CBD or FTD/ALS
  • “Language Disorders” for people interested in PPA
  • “Behavior Disorders” – positive approaches to behavior changes at home and in the community
  • “Residential and Facility Care” – for people considering residential care and how to promote a positive experience
  • “Comfort Care and End of Life Considerations” for issues in advanced FTD, addressing end of life decisions and the value of hospice care.

 

 

When the groups reconvened in the main room, there was a presentation by Dr Darby Morhardt and a panel discussion on the various aspects of the impact of FTD on families. Two of the panel members were spouses of people with FTD and parents of younger children.There was a very moving video presentation made by the panel member’s children, discussing how their respective mother’s and father’s FTD had affected them over the last few years.

Next, Charlene Martin-Lille shared some techniques and practical tools for managing stress during your FTD caregiving. Charlene teaches classes in resiliency – stress management, mindfulness and positive psychology at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. She often works with and advocates for those with dementia and their care partners.

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The keynote speaker for the conference was Nancy Carlson – a writer and illustrator of children’s books, who began a blog about her journey with her husband Barry as he battles FTD. You can read Nancy’s blog here. Nancy has written and illustrated more than 60 children’s books since 1979.  Her creativity is one of the things that helps her cope with so much loss in her life.

The conference provided a wealth of information in the lobby area for volunteering, regional information, grassroots events and group facilitators. Following the closing address by Jary Larson and Susan Suchan (more tears!), there was a lovely dinner reception hosted by the AFTD.

The conference was such a great opportunity for meeting, networking and socializing with people who truly “get it”.

 

Feedback on the conference was requested and I hope that the AFTD will use the comments and evaluations to make next year’s conference in Baltimore equally, if not more, engaging.

This week, I will work on getting the Conference program and resources into a pdf format, so that I can email it to you and you can explore and enjoy. There was lots of information and quite a few handy “checklists” that will be useful in various aspects of caregiving.

As I said at the beginning of this post, one of the greatest things about this conference was getting to meet so many people who had previously only been out there in the ether. There was a terrific sense of camaraderie and friendship almost immediately, largely due to our shared experiences, sense of humor and love of wine. It was an honor and privilege to meet you all and I hope to continue these friendships as we all travel this path, even though we are in different places, literally and along the FTD journey. Thank you so much to all, you have enriched my life more than you will ever know x

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FTD – Bringing New Horizons

Lounging lady

Since becoming a lady of leisure recently (hah!) I have been tackling some projects around my house. Just small things that I didn’t have time to finish (or the inclination when working 50 hours a week) following the big renovation last year.

One of the things I noticed while painting, sanding and stenciling, was that if I made a small mistake, or got paint somewhere it shouldn’t be (mostly on me), it didn’t matter. Doing a half-assed job really didn’t matter. As long as it looks mainly ok, that’s alright. That’s something new for me. It began while caring for my husband at home. Standards of housework, appearance and status became a poor second to ensuring that my darling hubs had what he needed and was safe and comfortable,

Treading the FTD path brings out things in you that you didn’t know were there, but more importantly it puts things into perspective. When I lost my job, I went through a myriad of emotions, mostly because that place had been one of my sources of support through the FTD years and now it’s no longer available to me. I am banished. But what was eventually revealed to me over the last few weeks is that the job is not who I am, it’s what I did. That’s a little contradictory to what I have preached throughout my nursing career. I used to always say that nursing is not what you do, it’s who you are. The ability to empathize, bear the pain of others and make compassion a daily practice comes from inside. It is who you grew into as an adult, not what you were taught in school. So, although I am a nurse at heart and I have those necessary qualities, the place I demonstrate them is not really important. When the banishment happened, I told everyone – “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, it’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me”.

And that is true – it’s not. FTD trampling over my love and my life was definitely the worst thing that ever happened, and I survived that. I am still here to tell the tale and hopefully, help others to weather the storm that FTD throws at us.

Learning to adapt and compromise is one of the basic tenets of handling FTD. I wrote about acceptance and resilience here, discussing how important you are in this whole equation. This thing has invaded your life and, despite its best attempts, you are more than capable of pushing back. Lately, I have become more involved in local attempts to influence legislation around dementia support. It’s a huge task and it will take many people and longer than any of us would like to influence progress. But I have the luxury now of fighting for others. I can fight FTD on a different front. You are in the trenches, fighting hard to maintain some kind of quality of life for you and your family. That’s hard. Harder than anything you will ever do. That’s why I think I can now afford to be half-assed about stuff. Because my priorities have changed. I know that the stencil on my laundry room floor is not as important as finding my husband a safe place to live when I couldn’t take care of him anymore. I know that if the paint dripped on my patio pavers is cleaned up less-than-perfectly, my life will not fall apart. I know that as lucrative and comfortable my high-flying job was, it was not the definition of me. 

Now, I am more likely to have a pet-friendly sofa, a grandchild-demolished bathroom and days without make up or showers. But it’s because I am calling the shots, not FTD.

My new work involves advocating for others and helping them to navigate the complexities of our funky healthcare system. Not that I know everything about those things of course, but I hope to bring some relief to people struggling to find their way through the FTD  maze. I hope that, in time, such advocacy for those of us who are otherwise occupied with FTD and its dubious charms, becomes mainstream and not just for those who can afford it. It is my hope that the healthcare system will wake up to the dementia tsunami that is upon us, sooner rather than later, but like most things in government, the wheels “grind exceeding slow” to quote our old friend Euripides, who was actually speaking of the ways the gods work, but you get my drift. In the meantime, I will do my best to advocate, navigate and support those I can to weather the storm and come out the other side as I did. If one person’s journey is a little easier for a little time, then I will consider myself successful. And I won’t do a half-assed job of that, believe me.

map and compass

 

FTD -Ever Decreasing Circles

As one who has passed through the weird “Looking Glass” of FTD and back again, I now have a different perspective on the day-to-day oxymoron of “frantic meanderings” through tantrums, crises, tears, laughter and frustration that comprises those days.
Looking Glass gif

As your life turns in ever-decreasing circles towards the inevitable end point, you become completely caught up in all aspects of the caregiver life that has been thrust upon you. Your world becomes smaller, more focused upon the minutiae of feeding, cleaning and keeping your loved one safe. Everything gets smaller – your circle of friends, your sphere of social activity and even your one-to-one interactions with your spouse, parent, child or partner. In fact, your entire world becomes one specifically centered around ensuring that everyone is safe and as comfortable as possible. This is almost im-possible when it comes to FTD. The degeneration of the brain can be imperceptible on a daily basis, then all of a sudden, they can’t do something that they could do yesterday. Or won’t eat something that was the only thing they would eat yesterday. But sometimes, there are things that persist all throughout the course of the disease process without fail.

Lately, I have been hearing a lot about “pacing”. This was something my husband did all the time, even up to about a week before he died. He was weak and frail and did not eat or drink for the last eight days of his life, but by God, he could still pace. Eventually, he was so weak that he spent more time in bed than he did pacing. Not for lack of trying though. He would still struggle and try to get up even when he physically was no longer able. He struggled right up until the last two days of his life and even then, sedated and pain-free, he moved his legs in the bed as if he was running, running for his life, which he was. Pacing was the one thing that relieved the anxiety that persisted throughout the latter half of his FTD ride. He was not an easily “soothable” man, but the physical exertion was the only way he could relieve the pent-up energy that was still generated in a young(ish), fit man.

Pacing, if overruled by medication in the form of anti-psychotics or anti-anxiolytics like Ativan,  can often lead to uncontrolled screaming and agitation because the anxiety that persists has to come out somewhere. Pacing is not the cause of anxiety, but a symptom of it. Yes, medication can help, but in addition, a less stressful course of management can be bouts of physical activity balanced with periods of rest. This will enable your FTD’er to use up that energy and sleep during the day, hopefully encouraging a more restful sleep at night – especially for you. I hear constantly about the exhausted caregiver who cannot sleep at night because their FTD’er is up and around, rummaging in drawers, or kitchen cabinets, or just pacing. It’s difficult to prevent this behavior but there are some things you can do to alleviate your frustration with it.

Frustration

  • Mental and physical activity is vital. Not to the point of exhaustion, but to let out energy.
  • Remember that “stimulation” is not what you are aiming for – that can cause more frustration – but rather a use of the faculties that are still remaining can bring a degree of satisfaction, especially in those still high-functioning FTD’ers.
  • Don’t rule out anything that you feel may be an insult to their dignity. I was the biggest proponent of maintaining as much independence as possible for this very reason. But remember, that as the disease progresses, so does the mental development age. So, those distractions that would amuse an 8, 5, or even 3-year old may suffice for a short time. Jigsaw puzzles, age-appropriate children’s books, coloring (be careful they don’t eat the crayons!), or a simple ball game.
  • Think about how “dignity” looks in a 3-year old. They are much less inhibited and conscious of social norms and it is likely that your FTD’er will be too. Often it is your own embarrassment or humiliation that prevents you from offering activities that you may consider “childish” or inappropriate for a man or woman of 40+.

One person I know keeps her husband so busy, he doesn’t have time to “get into mischief” so much. Long walks, jumping in puddles, hot tub baths, large toys, craft activities, she is very imaginative. I know, I know, being this creative can be exhausting for you, but you will reap the rewards in a different way if your loved one sometimes rests in the afternoon and sleeps at night.

Powerwalk

 

If they are a pacer, let them pace. My mantra was always “If it doesn’t harm him or anyone else, it’s ok”. Walking with a purpose or end goal is not the point here. Just the act of walking can be enough to soothe a troubled soul. Everyone is different. Some high-functioning people are able to go shopping, visit the park, spend time in social situations for a long time into their illness. But, eventually, these skills will diminish too and you will have to think of new ways to occupy those long days, especially if they are physically fit and healthy.

It’s important to remember that what you consider to be boring or mundane, may seem like the most important thing in the world to someone with FTD. The obsessive- compulsions, or repetitive behaviors like tapping or humming, may drive you crazy, but they are self-soothing mechanisms by which the person with FTD is trying desperately to hold on to some sense of control. As difficult as it is to ignore, your own sense of frustration will lessen if you can switch off from anything that is not destructive or harmful. It’s a little like when you have kids, you have to change your priorities and what you would like to be done and perhaps lower your standards of how tidy your house needs to be.

Rest for all is equally important. Not necessarily sleeping, but sitting quietly and doing nothing. My husband would only do this if I was sitting next to him, which was frustrating since I could think of a million things I could be doing once he was sitting down. But, the minute I moved, he would become restless again. The only way he would sit calmly was if I would sit calmly too. Looking back, that was not necessarily a bad thing. Those little enforced breaks meant that I had moments to treasure later. Moments when it was just the two of us and I could pretend that FTD was not holding us hostage. Although it did mean that laundry and housework didn’t get done. Oh well.

In residential care, Alan became an expert pacer, forcing his caregivers to follow him down the long hallways, complete a circuit of the pool table and then trot back down towards his room at the end of the hall, to begin the process all over again. I was amazed at their patience and tenacity, along with the fact that they never questioned it, or tried to stop him until they could see he was becoming exhausted; at which point they would try to distract him with food or something, in an effort to get him to rest. Sometimes they were successful, sometimes he would almost fall asleep while walking, at which point they would skillfully guide him back to bed for a nap. He paced when I was there too, and I would follow him and guide him around obstacles, which at that point, he could no longer maneuver. Thankfully, he never fell, which is a miracle in itself. As boring as it was to walk those halls, he would hold my hand and walk ahead as if showing me around the place. We would stop and talk to the staff, sometimes he would try and go into other people’s rooms, but was easily redirected. As weird as it may sound, we made some fond memories under horrible circumstances and I am grateful to the staff there for making the last weeks of Alan’s life as pleasant and comfortable as it could be. It was a time of great reflection for me, living alone for the first time and working without worrying about what he was up to at home. Although I became exhausted in a different way – emotionally – having the time to reflect on what our life together had become and what the future would be for me.

So – pace yourself! The ever-decreasing circles of your life will take stamina and determination. Those days when you are utterly exhausted and tired of being the nice guy will make you weary. Do whatever it takes to make it less so. I slept in a different room for the last two years my husband was at home. It’s amazing how a good night’s sleep can improve your outlook. I used to hear him sometimes, shuffling around, opening and closing drawers, rearranging his closet until late at night. Once I knew he could not get out of the house or into my room, I could rest easy and let him do his thing. Eventually he would fall asleep after wearing himself out – sometimes sleeping on the floor in his room. The upside of this was that he slept in in the morning, leaving me the time I needed to get ready for work, before I woke him to get ready to go to adult day care. If it’s possible to have someone come and be at your home overnight and be prepared to attend to your FTD’er while you sleep, you should definitely take them up on it.

Throughout this exhausting process, be sure to do a few things to take care of you. If you have someone who can sit in your house for a few hours, go out and do something you like. Guilt is not an option. (There’s a whole other blog post on that!). You need to recharge your own batteries. Believe me, I know what it is to drive yourself into the ground caring for someone else. As the old saying goes, “If I knew then what I know now………”. You get my drift anyway.

There comes a point where you have to make ever-increasing circles without them, even before they are gone, but especially in preparation for after. I think about all of you out there every day, believe me. I know it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done or probably will do. My heart hurts for the things you are going through. I feel a personal connection with all of you, even though we have never met.

Love drop

FTD – Hello, it’s been a while.

Arnie - I'm back

I’m back! Firstly, I’m sorry it’s been so long.  I have not written here since April. Somehow, I feel a little guilty about that. As I have tried to distance myself from the bastard disease, it has become apparent that proximity is not the issue. What has happened to me is that as I have been able to distance myself from my own experience, I have become more attuned to the experience of others. I thought I could leave it behind, but I find I can’t after all.

I was done, but I was done with feeling what it had done to me, but not with doing something about it. It seems funny now that I have had a hiatus from being so deeply involved, it looks different, feels different.

There is so much happening in the world of FTD. Sadly one of those things is that the Facebook group for which I am an administrator –“Frontotemporal Dementias Information and Support”, has grown from 400 members in April of 2014 to almost 2,000 today. The group is comprised of a wide variety of people –caregivers, spouses, adult children, writers, parents, friends, professionals and not least, those afflicted with the bastard disease. Every day, more new members are added. I don’t know if it’s that more cases of FTD are being recognized, or there really are more cases. My thought is the former. This is a good thing in that if more cases are being identified, it means that more professionals are becoming knowledgeable and familiar with the devastating effects of the disease on patients and their families. More cities are forming support groups to help somehow explain and assist with the progression of this devastating illness. I can now look into what’s happening, rather than being entrenched in it. I have a new perspective and I hope that will enable me to ease the way of others who are just beginning to try and navigate the storm.

If you have not read my work here before, some of my earlier articles may help you if FTD has reared its ugly head into your life. I’m not bragging on my writing, just want to help in any way I can to ease your way through the quagmire of confusion in which you will undoubtably find yourself as you travel the path. Some of my earlier work was written in the months following my husband’s death in 2012. I was shocked and unhappy, even though I had known for five years what the ultimate ending was for our life together. The FTD years were a culmination of the forty we had spent together. We married fairly young, and like many of the men and women I met along the FTD way and since my husband died, we spent all of our time during the first three years after diagnosis when he was still highly functioning, in a state of disbelief.

Disbelief is a very common experience at the start. Shock, sadness, anger, denial -all very common, especially in those closest to the diagnosis –spouses, children, parents.

disbelief

Once acceptance arrives, most people start thinking about the practical things –what will happen? What will I see? How long can he/she stay at home/drive/care for themselves? For many people, just the not knowing what to do is overwhelming. Eventually, you muddle through somehow, since there are just so many things that cannot be planned or anticipated. That’s where support groups –both physical and online can be a boon. Just sounding off to someone who understands and is going through the same kinds of things as you can be so comforting. Even if, like me, you are not really a “self-help group” kind of person and have never done anything like that before.

There are so many variables. Every patient is different, every experience different, because every person is different. But there are some similarities. The earlier characteristics and personality that you know and love so well often change. Dramatically. People who were once gentle and calm become raging beasts with seemingly no thought for anyone else. Apathy and indifference are classic traits of FTD in the early stages but often there have been symptoms for years before anyone really notices that maybe something is not quite right.

Everyone in the Facebook group can tell you their story about driving, food issues (either too much or too little), incontinence, sleeping, screaming, aggression, apathy, crying, and a myriad of other things. Some people have all of these, some people have one or two. There are people in the group from every continent in the world. The variation in experiences is the one consistent thing, as oxymoronic as that sounds. What I can tell you from my own experience is that FTD is predictably unpredictable.

Medical professionals are often baffled, ignorant, condescending or arrogant about FTD. I know that because I am one. Until FTD touched my life, even as a nurse, dementia patients were largely an anathema to me. During and since FTD, I have a whole new perspective and respect for those of us who are touched (which is much too gentle a word for the bastard disease) by the group of dementias known as Frontotemporal Degeneration.

Our family and friends were touched by it too. People came into and went out of our lives. People stepped up, people stepped down. While all that was happening, our family soldiered on. Meeting every crisis head-on, battling every demon that crossed our path. It was overwhelming and infuriating. There seemed to be no-one who really understood. I think now that things are a little better. That there are people all over the world who get it. Awareness is blossoming and people whose lives are and have been affected by FTD are joining together and doing things. The media is finally waking up to us and many people are writing and communicating about the affect the FTD has had on their life and the lives of their families and friends. The governments of the world (even though they often lump us in with Alzheimer’s) are finally waking up to what has been described as a “tsunami” of mental degeneration in one form or another. There is action beginning, if only in a small way. It’s better than what was happening eight years ago when mine and my husband’s journey began. There were four people in the support group I first attended. Now, that group has swollen its ranks to around 100, which is both disturbing and comforting at the same time.

Dichotomies seem to be the order of the day. On the one hand, no-one wants to be in “the club”, but on the other, it is necessary to  commune with people who get it. Previously civil, calm gentle people turn into raging bulls. Raging bulls often turn into pleasant, tranquil people. It’s a mystery. What happens to all the FTD patients I have even know is that there is a strange kind of “Benjamin Button” effect that takes you and your loved one on a journey back through time, culminating in their infant-like dependence on a very exhausted you. FTD will most definitely take a toll on you and the relationships you have with other people, including your loved one. You will experience emotions that you have never felt before. You will do things you never thought possible.

“You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.”

–Benjamin Button, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

And there it is. You will do things you never thought possible. Just like I am now. Carrying on a life without the one person who was the center of my life for thirty-eight years. I am not a different person, but I am irrevocably changed as I have said before. As you battle FTD, as fearsome as an opponent it is, you will discover qualities that are in you that you have never seen before. They were there all the time, you just didn’t know. 

Now that I am writing again from a different perspective, I hope to bring you the power that comes from knowledge. Knowledge and acceptance are two powerful things for your arsenal. Acceptance is not merely giving in to the inevitable, it is seeing that “It is what it is” and forging ahead anyway. Acceptance is a tool that you can use to guide you through the many upsetting, infuriating, frustrating and sad things you will have to do every day. It is not just taking everything at face value and thinking it’s ok. It is questioning everything and realizing that there are some things you just cannot change. It’s not to say that new things shouldn’t be tried, or tips learned to help you deal with the everyday. The enormity of what you are doing is not always apparent while you are doing it.

You are weighed down with love. Love, and emotions like guilt, resentment, anger, sadness. They are heavy loads to carry. especially when you know that there is only one outcome to all your hard work and dedication. That’s when you realize that love is the thing that saw you through. Love is the life jacket that kept you afloat. People an be lifejackets too. You will find them. They will find you. They will present themselves, you just need to keep an eye out for them. They pop up in the strangest of places.

So, it’s good to be back in the FTD world. (What a weird thing to say!) Perhaps that’s what my purpose is –to use what I learned to ease the way of someone else. Sounds a bit airy-fairy, I know, but we’ll see how it goes. I lost the dearest thing to my heart, but the loss built something too. Resilience, battle scars, call it what you will. My husband would like that. He always said I was tougher than him. Maybe he was right.

Benjamin, we’re meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know they’re important t us?

–Mrs Maple, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

Or perhaps I am just using the “Benjamin Button” analogies to look at pictures of Brad Pitt? Hmmmm…………………

Benjamin Button

FTD – Friends, Truth and Disconnection.

friends

One of the hardest things for the caregiver of a person with FTD has to handle is the withdrawal of friends and family from the day-to-day happenings in your world.

“My best friend who does call me or I call him several times a day is the only one and he doesn’t want to come here cause he doesn’t like seeing Peg the way she is. So hurts sometimes”.

– James, caring for his wife.

It’s not enough that you are living in an environment of silence, anger, pain and downright belligerence at times, but you also have to suffer the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” . To “take arms against a sea of troubles” is more than you can bear to do. Putting this into perspective (and in non-Shakespearean language to which we can all relate!) – you don’t have the energy or the time to persuade, cajole or help other people to come and see someone they have previously professed to love and respect.

What’s more is that, not only do friends sometimes abandon your loved one, they abandon you too. It’s sad and painful.

“I don’t blame those that distance themselves. Not sure how I would handle it if the roles were reversed. This disease makes people very uncomfortable”.

– Roger, caring for his wife.

You will get through the most harrowing experience of your life with or without them. And there will come a time, much later, when it will no longer be important. They have their own stuff going on. Their own problems, their own domestic issues. Their own fears and failures. I don’t think that makes it alright that they abandoned you in your time of need, but bitterness is a useless emotion. Revenge is not sweet.

Shield maiden

You will attain a plateau of indifference. Not that you don’t love them as friends anymore, but afterwards, the shield that you built to protect yourself from the “slings and arrows” of FTD will also protect you against the absence of something that was not as robust as you may have thought anyway.

“I think if we can help people overcome their fears, let them know it’s okay to feel awkward, say something stupid, stutter or act like an idiot, at least it’s interaction, and maybe the next time won’t be quite so awkward. Of course everything makes more sense in hindsight, and it’s nearly impossible to change other people. So even though I’m pretty sure I know why they do it, I’m not sure the change will ever happen if we leave them to their own devices.

– Rip, caregiver to a loved one with FTD

Rip is right, you have to let them know it’s ok. Whatever level of support they can offer. If that’s an occasional phone call, then let that be ok. If that’s dropping you from a circle of friends completely, then let that be ok too. You’re in control only of you. The most oft-used saying in the FTD world is:

“It is what it is”

That is never more true than in every FTD day. And so, the friendless situation is the same. You’re not friendless. It just feels that way sometimes. What it is is different. Different people that you have come to know, those who get it. The ones who are going through the same things as you. Not exactly the same, but relatable experiences. Different daily routines, different perspective. Those things that you always took for granted are different now. Like friends and conversation. It’s like starting a new job. everyone seems strange at first, but familiarity ensues and you make friends with people that you never would have found if it wasn’t for FTD.

It has to be said that friends can also be your rocks, your place of retreat. Those that stick around and hold your hand – physically or metaphorically, can do it from next door or thousands of miles away. They will take your call or tears at any time. One lesson I learned from my experience with FTD was that the people who were around just took to the situation without any request or discussion. They just did it. They behaved no differently towards my husband, treated him with respect and love just as they always had. They still do, even now he’s gone. He had less-than-perfect behaviors even before the FTD and they knew that. We all did. We all do. There’s the rub. We all do. None of us have perfect characteristics or behaviors, with or without FTD. Some people are just “not comfortable” with those things that lie outside social norms.

If I’m honest, maybe I was not either before my run-in with the bastard disease. Maybe I was less than tolerant of the frailties of others. Even without the presence of a terminal, devastating illness, my own behavior could have been better. It probably still could at times. I am laughing right now as I write. Since the FTD circus left town and I said my last goodbye, I have become much more introspective. FTD took almost everything from me, but in fairness, it gave me some things too. I learned more patience, tolerance and how much love I had inside me. I also learned how to not think less of people who are not like me. A hard lesson and a humbling one.

Now, I view friendships and relationships much differently. Or even indifferently. Not for what they bring to me, but for what bring to them. I am working on taking things a lot less personally and trying to see things from a more objective point. Although, in contradiction to this, my own defiance and defensiveness were the very things that helped me fight for what was right for my husband, so they did come in handy there. I had a very strong shield. The shield was reinforced by the love and support I received from the people who did stick around.

So, to quote the song “You gotta have friends”. You really do. They just might not be the ones you expect.  Lending a hand comes in many forms.

friend hand

 

 

FTD – Only the Lonely Know The Way I Feel Tonight

[youtube.https://youtu.be/kjq4wYuwgxs?t=20s%5D

“I have lost the one person with whom I could share everything. I still talk to him like he understands but he just looks at me. Lonely doesn’t begin to describe this feeling. My biggest fear is that I have not cultivated enough close friends to sustain me when he is physically gone. There will be a lot of empty hours to fill” – Christina, caregiver to her husband.

These are the words of someone who is caring for a person with FTD. Sometimes, when you get caught up in the day-to-day life of a caregiver, you lose sight of yourself and reality.

Dealing with constant observation and supervision, food fights, diaper changes and walks keep one busy. Akin to the life of the parent of a toddler, one often yearns for a little peace and quiet. But after all that, after the night comes and calm is present for a short while, the pain of not having your partner to bounce the day off sets in.

Wanting to take advantage of time when you are not needed to guide what can often seem like a military exercise is natural of course. A little time to yourself, quiet time to just sit and do nothing seem like a pipe dream. But when it happens, you don’t really want it. All you want is to have those times back when you sat and talked About nothing, about everything. You just want it back.

“Conversation, I think that is worst. I spend all day talking to someone who never answers me back. Or seems to understand what I’m saying. And then when I do get her to bed and have my quiet time is when it sets in. Oh well the life of FTD” – James, caregiver to his wife, Peggy.

The quiet brings different feelings too. Pain, anger, sadness. Left to your own devices, you begin to dwell on how things might be different if it weren’t for the damn FTD. Conversations about your day, your work, your kids, your friends. The vacation you’re planning, the honey-do list.

Fear and dread overwhelm you. Fear of what you know is to come. Dreading the end result of this bastard disease. But still you endure. Still you go on, because – well, what else can you do? This mission that you have accepted has no defined beginning or end. It just morphs into a total disruption of your life. Eats up your love like an insatiable demon and forces you to think of the unimaginable.

“I’m always torn between being grateful for the peace and quiet so I can relax from the responsibility/demands for a bit, then the lonely crawls in and takes over.” – Lynn, caregiver to her husband, Len.

Guilt can be a powerful emotion during these times. You long for the times when you felt “happy”. Remember those? Happy is hard to define until you don’t feel it any more. Then you know. You know exactly what is is once its gone. And if you do happen to have a smiley moment, the guilt will jump up and slap you in the face. “How dare you feel anything but duty, loyalty and subservience at this time?”  Laughing? Don’t you dare! The FTD guilt police will be after you!

All the negative emotions you feel – guilt, loneliness, emptiness, are far surpassed by what you are achieving every day as someone who fights this evil disease. Yes, you’re fighting. You know you can’t win, but you will give it a good run for it’s money. Being alone when you are with someone is absolutely soul-destroying. A form of torture in my opinion.

“That was my worst feeling. Being lonely even though my husband was right there.” -Michelle, caregiver for her husband.

Even commenting on something you are watching on TV, or see in the street returns little to no intelligible or understandable response. It’s like solitary confinement, except you are allowed to go out. Those little private jokes you shared belong only to you now.  Even menial things around the house can become a trigger for loneliness. The chores that your other half always did suddenly don’t seem to get done anymore. It takes you a while to notice, but one day, the plants in the yard are all dead, the pool isn’t cleaned, or the laundry isn’t done, or you have no dinner when you get home. It comes as quite a shock, that they don’t remember how to do those things anymore.  It’s not important to them. Not as important as where (and when) their next meal/snack is coming from, or where their money is. How did that happen? Their ability to think of anyone but themselves drives your loneliness. As they withdraw into their FTD world, so do you into yours. You have no choice.

‘The other night our dog started barking. I had to wake up Ian to tell him I thought someone was outside. He ever so slowly got dressed, went to the toilet then strolled out and then asked me what I wanted him to do? I sat alone crying because it made me realise how truly ‘on my own’ I am now.”  – Vicki, caregiver for her husband, Ian.

I know that you know all this if you are or have been a caregiver of someone with FTD. I don’t have any magic answers, but I do have the advantage of hindsight. Although I can’t tell you how not to feel, I can tell you that with each phase and stage of FTD, as your loved one’s behavior and level of withdrawal changes, so will your resilience. Your strength will come from those of us who have gone before you and survived. Think of it as a marathon, with some runners just finishing and some just beginning. You will get to the finish line in the end. It’s not the end you want, but it is an end. You will handle the cramps and blisters along the way, because you are travelling with someone you love and they need you to help them reach the finish line. If you don’t love them, then I admire you even more, because this is not a journey for sissies. This marathon is only for the stout of heart and those with levels of determination that would defy gravity.

The loneliness of the long-distance runner cannot be underestimated. Take heart from the people on the sidelines, cheering you on. They may be people you know, or total strangers, but they are there, waving their flags and handing out cups of water.

As you escape into your quiet world tonight, when the tumult of the day has finally fallen into a calmer place, close your eyes, breathe deeply and exhale the loneliness. Feel it leaving your body and just enjoy the peace. For tomorrow will bring new challenges, new belligerence, new meanness.

You can do it. I know you can.

Breathe.

Spa

Return to the scene of the FTD crime!

Home heartAfter three years in the wilderness (well, not really, but it sounds better than “after three years living somewhere else”). After three years away from my home, last weekend I took the plunge and returned to where it all began. My war with FTD that is.

Seven years ago, my husband was diagnosed with frontotemporal degeneration. We lived together in the home we had shared with our family for the previous seven years. Five years later, he died. Broken down into a myriad of confused pieces by the degeneration of his brain, he slipped away peacefully at the place he was living, ten months after he had left our home for the last time.

Last weekend, I went back. I had driven by, but never been inside since the day I left, about four months after he moved into a care facility. I couldn’t manage his behaviors at home any longer, not and work to support us both too. I left the house because, well, now I’m not really sure why. I just knew I couldn’t stay there. Maybe because I felt so alone, maybe because the house felt too big. I don’t really know. It felt like the right thing to do at the time. I have said several times that I didn’t think I would ever live there again.

But last Saturday, I changed my mind. It’s allowed, right?

I went back to look at the house since the lady who was renting it had moved on to pastures new. I knew some updating would be required, so I went to see just what needed to be done. All week, I had been going back and forth between the choices I had. Do I rent again? Do I sell? Or – do I go back?

Well, I have decided go back.

I am going back to live there because I found that it was not as emotionally disturbing as I thought it would be. Like most anticipated, maybe even dreaded events, it was not nearly as bad as I had imagined. It actually still felt like home. There were a couple of tearful moments, but certainly not the anguish I was anticipating. The tears came from good memories. From fun and funny times. From love. Love for my husband, love for my family. I realized it was not the house that gave me bad memories, but FTD. Home-Heart

FTD was the bad guy, not my home. Not the place where we laughed with friends, played with our grandchildren, relaxed in our pajamas and laughed at the stupid things that noone else would ever find funny.

FTD was the destroyer of all that, not the house. There are no do-overs with FTD. It’s done now, no going back.

But I can go back to the place where I feel at home.

Oh yes, it needs a little makeover and a new hairdo, but that’s good. When it’s done, it will look different. It will be different. A little like me. Changed forever but with the essence of what it is still intact.  My home.

My husband loved our house.  When we relaxed out by the pool, for a long time we had a favorite CD – Crowded House Greatest Hits. Our favorite track was “Don’t Dream It’s Over”. As I drove away from the house on Saturday it came on the radio.

Whatever you believe, the final decision was made and confirmed…..

HeartHome

FTD – R and D? Finally! Happy New Year Arnold!

So here we are. 2015. Happy New Year! I hope that FTD is kinder to you this year. It seems like we are finally seeing a little money being made available for research into defeating the invader into our lives – FTD. Check out this link to further details:

http://www.healthline.com/health-news/nih-grants-30-million-to-study-frontotemporal-dementia-011015#1

Arnold Pick2As you may know, Arnold Pick is arguably the most famous person to describe a premature kind of dementia that we now know as FTD. He called it Dementia praecox” In 1891, Dr. Pick described rapid cognitive disintegration, often beginning in the late teens or early adulthood.  Nowadays, frontotemporal degeneration refers to a group of conditions. But at the end of the nineteenth century, work was just beginning on discovering more about this group of disorders, which originally were thought to be psychiatric in nature.

There had been many other physicians, neurologists and psychiatrists all the way back to 50 B.C.E, when a man called Lucretius used the term  “dementia” to describe “being out of one’s mind”.

LucretiusSo, after two thousand and sixty-five years, it’s probably about time for some some money to be put into research, since so much is still unknown about this demon that we battle every day. We hear about Alzheimer’s Disease ad nauseum. I truly understand that caring for anyone with any kind of cognitive disorder is draining,  deflating, soul-destroying. Believe me I know. But the powers that be really need to wake up to the fact that the vast majority of people who develop Alzheimer’s Disease are elderly and require a completely different kind of care to those amongst us who have three children under the age of ten, or teenagers who are grappling with the fact that their parent is not their parent anymore.

Awareness is paramount to the cause of those young men and women who are the partners, wives, brothers and sisters of those afflicted by the bastard disease. Those people who have had their lives snatched away, chewed up and spit out so that their loved one is now an infantile version of their former self. Those beloved ones who are thirty-some, forty-some and fifty-some years old and who will never again understand their role in life. It’s not as rare as one might think or be led to believe by the article above.

Lucretius knew. Arnold knew. They just didn’t really know what they knew then. I would love for them to be spirited to the here and now and see how epidemic their discoveries have become. Of how millions of lives are affected. I wonder what they would think of the vast array of technologies and advances available to us now and despite our knowing much more than they did then, we still don’t know enough to make it go away. Maybe we would know more if we dedicated more time and resources. If we threw everything we had at the bastard disease. If politicians were less concerned about where their next “business’ trip is coming from (or going to). If big pharma were less focused on making money selling their wares and more focused on finding cures. If governments (and not just ours) were dedicated as if it were their own spouse that needed the help.

The zeitgeist needs to change. If you have loved or even just met someone for whom FTD is a reality, you know that social perception and awareness is light years behind the reality.

FTD is occurring globally on an ever-increasing scale. Social media groups are popping up all over the place, with more and more new members seeking support from one another. There are scant resources to help them. They only have each other. The lack of knowledge, the guilt, the resentment, the love. It’s all there. People don’t know which way to turn. There are people who gladly share their knowledge or experience, but sometimes it all seems so futile, Is this what it was like for those people who experienced those things of which we are now so accepting but were the FTD of their day? HIV/AIDS?  Unwed mothers? Homosexuality? I realize that those things also carried (carry?) social stigmas, but FTD can do that too.

Friends, or those we once thought were friends, shy away, not calling or coming to visit. Making excuses not to go out together. It all comes down to fear. Fear of the unknown, of the “I don’t know what to say”. Of feeling embarrassed.

Sometimes I wish someone famous would develop FTD. Then maybe people would sit up and listen. Not that I would actually wish the bastard disease on my worst enemy of course, but anything that would bring a huge public eye-opening about what is happening would be a major breakthrough.

We’ve all heard of Arnold Pick, but most people have not. If he were here now, more glamorous and in a position of power, people would really sit up and listen, right? Right, dream on. I guess there are too many people and groups with vested interests in too many other things.

I always think it’s sad that money dictates how much attention, time and resources are dedicated to one thing or another. If we are humanists, shouldn’t we be doing these things for the greater good? Of course, the researchers all have families to feed too, so I can’t begrudge them that. Just don’t want to line any fat cats already-bulging pockets. Anyway, not to be ungrateful, I think it’s wonderful that $30 million is dedicated to our cause.

To end on a lighter note,  here’s a little dementia humor…….

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