It is so very difficult to describe the various "symptoms" of this cruel disorder. Does it make any sense that in some ways it feels like a slow progression and, in others, it feels like everything is happening at lightning speed?
A few years ago, we received (from my parents) a box of Christmas packages in the mail. They appeared to have been wrapped by a young child. The tape was on the wrong side of the package, loosely attached. The wrapping paper was coming loose. This may not seem like a big deal - but my mom has ALWAYS wrapped a beautiful, tightly sealed, crisp at the corners present. I can picture her at the dining room table. All of the various wrapping papers are out, the scissors are at the ready, the box of different colored ribbons and bows at hand. Afterwards, these supplies are placed back in a neatly organized rollaway box which slides under the bed.
"Consistent with this neurological damage are slowly developing difficulties with visual tasks such as... difficulty manuevering, identifying, and using tools or common objects." (Alzheimer's Association)
So often in life, it is in the small details where we find the most sentiment and longing and nostalgia. That box of messy Christmas packages triggered great sadness for me. It sounds so trivial, but it was a HUGE sign to me that something wasn't right. Another clue.
.............
We only received the official diagnosis of Posterior Cortical Atrophy for my mom in May of this year. I am not sure how long - or how slowly - this has been progressing. I am trying so hard to think back; to scour through the "clues." Ten years? 8 years? So many clues - which I only now recognize as clues - over a long period of time: new dings or scratches on the car (don't worry - she hasn't been driving now for several years); increasing confusion and concern about time...and now an inability to read the time on a clock or watch; a change in handwriting; increased anxiety.
..............
Back to those Christmas presents: I give great credit to my Dad (more on their amazing partnership in a future post) for letting my mom continue to try to do the tasks she used to love - no matter what the outcome. He could see the packages were not wrapped very well, but he did not secretly try to re-wrap them. He didn't tell her what a mess she had made of the packages. He didn't do it for her. At this point, my mom is not capable of many of those important independent skills. My dad is having to take over a lot for her. But, he's done this gradually - when it is clear she can no longer handle the task at hand. Dignity. Humanity. Love.
A few years ago, we received (from my parents) a box of Christmas packages in the mail. They appeared to have been wrapped by a young child. The tape was on the wrong side of the package, loosely attached. The wrapping paper was coming loose. This may not seem like a big deal - but my mom has ALWAYS wrapped a beautiful, tightly sealed, crisp at the corners present. I can picture her at the dining room table. All of the various wrapping papers are out, the scissors are at the ready, the box of different colored ribbons and bows at hand. Afterwards, these supplies are placed back in a neatly organized rollaway box which slides under the bed.
"Consistent with this neurological damage are slowly developing difficulties with visual tasks such as... difficulty manuevering, identifying, and using tools or common objects." (Alzheimer's Association)
So often in life, it is in the small details where we find the most sentiment and longing and nostalgia. That box of messy Christmas packages triggered great sadness for me. It sounds so trivial, but it was a HUGE sign to me that something wasn't right. Another clue.
.............
We only received the official diagnosis of Posterior Cortical Atrophy for my mom in May of this year. I am not sure how long - or how slowly - this has been progressing. I am trying so hard to think back; to scour through the "clues." Ten years? 8 years? So many clues - which I only now recognize as clues - over a long period of time: new dings or scratches on the car (don't worry - she hasn't been driving now for several years); increasing confusion and concern about time...and now an inability to read the time on a clock or watch; a change in handwriting; increased anxiety...............
Back to those Christmas presents: I give great credit to my Dad (more on their amazing partnership in a future post) for letting my mom continue to try to do the tasks she used to love - no matter what the outcome. He could see the packages were not wrapped very well, but he did not secretly try to re-wrap them. He didn't tell her what a mess she had made of the packages. He didn't do it for her. At this point, my mom is not capable of many of those important independent skills. My dad is having to take over a lot for her. But, he's done this gradually - when it is clear she can no longer handle the task at hand. Dignity. Humanity. Love.
Powerful. Amazing. Poignant. Moving.
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