Dana, best of luck with the surgery and recovery.

Dementia can bite me. We cared for my dad, reduced by both Parkinson's and dementia, at home for eight years. He was terrified of "the poorhouse" and nothing could convince him that "the home" was any different. My mom was equally adamant that he not be cared for outside the home, so H and I took shifts. Mom was supposedly his caregiver during the day, but basically she talked to him and fed him lunch. H got up with him at 5AM every morning, bathed him, dressed him, got him in his chair, fed him breakfast, then stripped his bed and washed the sheets, his night clothes and the clothes from the day before. I got home from work, got him out of the chair and to the bed, stripped him, bathed him, got him settled in bed, and then went up to our apartment. The kids occasionally helped me lift him or shift him if I needed help. H worked second shift and was coming home when Dad was waking. H and I didn't see much of each other. For eight years.

Mom was worse than we realized--she was having vivid auditory hallucinations, being argumentative and eventually combative. But it wasn't until she fell, bent her walker, and we couldn't get her up between three of us that we had her hospitalized, and she went from the hospital to a rehab center. While she was there we did a whirlwind tour of local assisted living homes, and found one that was clean, bright, and well-run. She was moved without her input, and soon settled into the routine. She loved it. Everyone thought she was adorable, she had constant attention from the kind and attentive staff, and she was a shameless flirt. It probably was the best year of the last twenty of her life.

But she didn't know us when we walked in the room, and she didn't remember or try to remember her life before the present.

It is what it is, but dementia sucks dead hairy bears, and I will always hate and resent it.

Good lord. My mom just had the appointment with her cardiologist to schedule the surgery. The whole reason the aneurysm was found is that she needs a valve replaced, so she had a CT scan. The cardiologist told her initially that since she's asymptomatic for the valve, she didn't need to have the valve replaced immediately. But then they found the aortic aneurysm, and that needs to be repaired soon, so they're going to go ahead and replace the valve at the same time.

But to do both procedures, they're going to crack her open, which never stops freaking me out. It freaked me out when my dad had quadruple bypass years and years ago and they cracked him open, and it's freaking me out now. That is not fucking around, man.

It'll be the first week of June, then she stays in the hospital for 5-7 days, then 12 weeks of recuperation. She is going to be SO BORED. She never sits still. She'd better get a Netflix subscription or something.

Steph, I can't reassure you about the cracking open thing. I can't even watch phlebotomists poke around for veins. Best I can offer is "hell yeah, you're freaked, me too." All I can do is sit in the freaked corner with you.

Hil - how frustrating about the wheelchair! I am glad that you were able to enjoy your day despite that setback.

Teppy - thank goodness they found that aneurysm!

Teppy - thank goodness they found that aneurysm!

That is definitely true! So much better to find it and repair it, because if it burst, odds of dying are above 50%. Surgery is better, even if it's major surgery and freaky as shit.

(I have taken Ativan and a walk and a shower -- not in that order -- and I'm much calmer.)

Yes, I'd find the idea of cracking someone open disturbing, too. Much surgery~ and recovery~ma to your mom, Steph.

My paternal grandmother died in a nursing home. She was the daughter of Finnish immigrants. She grew up on an Upper Peninsula farm, went to a "normal school" (basically, the 1910s version of a teaching college), and taught in MI and MN before marrying grandpa and having dad. And then, unusually for the time, went back to teaching in a one-room schoolhouse. I have the skiis she used to get there hanging on my living room wall. By all accounts she was a brilliant, vibrant woman who could hold her own in verbal debate or in hunting deer. She knew every tree, shrub, and plant in the UP and could tell you what each one was good for. She was Dad's biggest influence, and the reason he went to college and became a teacher.

My only memory of her is of a speechless old woman attempting to reach a fetal position in a wheel chair, drooling. Dementia took her from the family 10 years before she died. God, I wish I'd had a chance to know her.

Dementia is indeed cruel, and they are having progress. I have considered becoming involved in the research because that would mean better monitoring and prevention, and they really want and need volunteers. They are getting pretty good at detecting people inclined to have issues long before they have symptoms. And if I did have the genes then best to know sooner. From the Alz.org site -

If you are interested in participating in a current clinical trial, use Alzheimer's Association TrialMatch®, a free individualized service that matches volunteers with trials based on certain criteria, such as stage of disease, current treatments and location. A lack of volunteers for Alzheimer's clinical trials is one of the greatest obstacles slowing the progress of potential new treatments.

Calli, that's so sad. Sounds like she was amazing.

Laura, thanks for that info.

Lots of ~ma for your mom, Steph. Glad they caught it.

Vignette from life with my roommate, who is a social worker, but not mine:

Me: Okay, I just need to complain for a second, I'm not looking for solutions or anything - I think one of my ribs is dislocated, and it hurts and it's annoying.

Him: [several stupid questions] I know I always say this, but you should really try tai chi.

Him: [several stupid questions] I know I always say this, but you should really try tai chi.

May you should try Karate, or Krav Maga on his ass. ijs