It feels almost like a lifetime since I last put my dearest ‘pen to paper’ as I was in mid-flight telling you about our holidays in Mallorca, way back in September. During my daily bulletins, somewhere written in the background, was a vignette, a short distract from the main event, so to speak.
However, this is a vignette to my life story, regrettably, this is true.
Returning from our break we were sadly dropped into a black hole, everything we were used to, including our three homes, our aging puppies and our daily routines were up-ended and to quote a well-known and often used phrase …. ‘all hell literally broke loose’
I guess we are both lucky to be where we are in life, as many of our dear contemporaries have already expired at an early age and we too are not that far off of our own sell by dates.
There is no doubting that the ‘elephant in the room’ cannot be ignored, its onslaught and mass destruction is never-ending, wondering how that person is going to wake up in the morning, be it as normal as once used to be, a frightened child after a nightmare or something angry and confused. Trying to reassure is as easy as not wanting to walk on ice or hot coals, and almost as bad as treading on egg shells or sticking ones head in the lions mouth without something kicking off. The terrible fact is that, this disorder is uncontrollable, no medication can halt or suppress its continued progress of destruction at this point, nor can it be cured, well, not yet at least.
This behaviour is not classified as a disease in medical terms, although not contagious, or even proved hereditary it wraps its invisible cloak like a spider does with its black web over all involved, taking away every scrap of dignity with it, removing all souvenirs just like an eraser whilst lacrimation continues to erode our cheeks like dried up rivers, draining all emotions, memories, words and senses with each tear as they fall into oblivion and beyond, never to be retrieved.
Every single part of us, every atom of life as once known, and all who are being consumed, unable to escape the gravity which this loathsome sink hole of life has become. It tags the carer and everyone else who supports within. This situation is volatile and busy, often in a way that we find very unpleasant, confusing and annoying, annoying to the point that we cannot do a damned thing about it …. One can only hope that during this rancid destruction, ones own soul has the sense to free itself before it’s too late.
We are asked to believe at an early age, and although belief and faith can be strong elements, recently I am seriously beginning to doubt, however I am not giving up.
Dementia, In one word …. SUCKS.