Category Archives: Dementiaville

mother is losing her memory.

Protected: Dementiaville_15

Posted on April 25, 2013 by janet

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#dementiaville 14. An Easter Visit

Posted on April 5, 2013 by janet

#Dementiaville 14 Some relatives ponder whether it is painful for a loved one to have dementia. Are those afflicted ‘content’ in their confusion and loss of memory, since they don’t remember things anyhow? Last week I saw a show where … Continue reading →

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Dementiaville_13

Posted on February 20, 2013 by janet

The nurse has ordered mom pressure stockings, as her ankles have swollen (she sleeps sitting up in the tv lounge, instead of in her bed). I don’t think she realizes yet where she is, and which room is hers. When … Continue reading →

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Protected: Dementiaville_12

Posted on January 23, 2013 by janet

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Dementiaville_11

Posted on December 30, 2012 by janet

Is it dream or imagination? Here I am, walking through a cavern filled with towers of disintegrating black moss stretched upward into dark infinity. Or are they columns of cobwebs? It is mom’s brain I am dwelling in, and nothing … Continue reading →

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Dementiaville_10

Posted on December 4, 2012 by janet

Mom stands at 5’ and weighs around 110 pounds. Her back has rounded and, when she walks nowadays, she embodies the swaggering primate propelled by arms that in old age have grown long for her body.  She used to be … Continue reading →

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Protected: Dementiaville_9

Posted on November 22, 2012 by janet

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Dementiaville_8

Posted on November 11, 2012 by janet

A live-in caregiver (Annie) has arrived, and none too soon. On the morning (two weeks ago) when I returned to Wisconsin to prepare for Annie, Mom had made coffee out of powdered cloves, and had watered her plastic flowers. As … Continue reading →

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Protected: Dementiaville_7

Posted on October 13, 2012 by janet

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Dementiaville_6

Posted on September 28, 2012 by janet

Calling mom can feel like walking barefoot on a morning’s first cold snow. Silent, deliberate, a hint of the treacherous afoot, and then, with each ring the ache of brain freeze rushes in. Monday, Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday . . . … Continue reading →

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