It comes out of nowhere.
A jolt of lightning strikes your brain.
You’re suddenly taken where you don’t want to go.
A place you’ve been avoiding, blanking, hiding, camouflaging.
It’s emotional chaos for that little flash of the future.
So, that’s what is going to happen after all.
Dementia is a slow burn. Not for everyone I know, but mostly it takes years, even decades, to develop, or rather for
Your brain to stop working.
You live on, after diagnosis, mostly forgetting about it. You get on with your life.
Yes, you find it hard to get words sometimes, or to remember where and why you’re going somewhere.
You can’t always decipher what you hear first time…irritating those you live with.
You might start to shuffle a little, become unsteady on your feet, find steps a little tricky.
But it becomes the new norm.
Then out of nowhere…
We were talking about outbuildings, the future, renovations, flower arranging, live-in accommodation…
We mention a live-in carer in the future…
And suddenly I’m reminded that I will grind inevitably and inexorably to a confused, incoherent, shaky man who is alive but unable to live.
That’s a bit shitty really, and I’d rather not look over there.
The other side of the river. Across the mountain range. A deserted, foggy, chilling land of no hope.
So I return to my garden, to my greenhouse, to making my bread and walking my new companion dog.
I don’t know how fast I’ll decline, though I’m beginning to feel it more often.
I’ve planned for the future. We’ve done the financial and legal stuff.
But how do you do the emotional stuff, the head stuff.
I think you just have to get on and live and forget what comes next.
It’s the hardest thing in the world, leaving it.