Dementia is a funny thing. One can’t see it or feel it. And you really wouldn’t know you had it until something happens out of the ordinary and then you know.
I call my dementia the alien sometimes or the black entity other times. You know the horror film when you don’t want to go into the cellar in case the black mass gets you, well that is how I see my dementia.
Most times I forget I have it, and then most times when I feel tired I know but ignore it. I feel its waiting to say, ‘Im Here’ horrid thing.
Changes that happen are subtle as if my alien does things that I wouldn’t realise but I know. I know my body and mind.
I have eaten apples every day for 20 years, loved them. Gala Apples are my favourite as they are crisp and juicy. Now I don’t like them – strange I know. I don’t like biting into them, the texture against my mouth, the crunch I don’t like. I buy them out of habit and then they go off. If I cut them into wedges and into smaller amounts then that is fine.
There is a poem called ‘Apples’ in the book ‘To Forget With Grace’ by Jacqui Peedell and Jo Davies. Jacqui lives very well with her dementia and wrote this book of poems which I bought from her when we met at the Alzheimer’s Show. I understand where she is coming from, when I read her poems. Her book is available on Amazon on 20th June.
The same with carrots. I used to love raw carrots but against don’t like them now and if I cook them they have to be really cooked whereas in the old days I used to like a bit of crunch to them cooked.
I don’t like the smell of raw meat now. Last time I did a chicken casserole, I felt sick preparing it. Never had that problem before. After I cooked it, I threw most of it away as the smell was still up my nose.
Colours are getting more and more confusing. If I am playing a game against the computer where you shoot the balloons down, colours change in front of my eyes and its frustrating to say the least. I have just found out that I can change the colour of the keyboard on my phone. So it’s now blue with white letters and I can see it better.
I have also taken the predictive text off the phone and I am less stressed now, which is strange cause I used to love the predictive text before the alien took over my brain. Words get muddly as it is without adding to it. I get frustrated when the grammer police get on my case whether a word is spelt correctly, or the right or wrong word is used in the right category. Does it matter?
The English language is complex as it is. Which, witch, bare, bear, i before e except after c is the only thing I remember. Those versus they. I always think its a bit like the French language, la versus le, is something feminine over masculine. What makes a book le livre masculine. Yet La Chemise – feminine. Language is complex indeed.
No wonder we have trouble with our speech and language. When we have dementia.
Yet, despite all the weirdness my alien tries to fool me with I love my life. So I obviously am still beating that little horror. Every day is a blessing