A personal blog...

...chronicling the dementia adventures of...

...Girl and

The Other Girl...

...sharing hilarious and 

heartbreaking moments

of life...


...with our mom who has vascular dementia.


"Winning The Most Birthdays!" Game

She's still in the running! Mom added to her "Winning The Most Birthdays!" Game score this month by turning another year older. Of course, she's got a ways to go before she's a real threat to Kane Tanaka; at 116 years of age, Ms. Tanaka is the current reigning champion. Still, Mom is kicking it hard - out birthday'ing approximately 6,900,000,000 other people on the planet! I'd say that's a def spot in the Winner's Circle for Mom. Kane Tanaka, age 116, World Champion "Winning The Most Birthdays!" Game, slurping down a big bowl of "Suck it, 'ya losers!" We celebrated Mom's special day with a delicious dinner made by Ridiculously Tall Grandson Number Two. Followed by a "blow-out the candle, Mo

Dementia Oscars!

Mission (almost) Impossible The days of Mom sitting 2-hours for any type of entertainment are, sadly, coming to an end. We still occasionally get through an entire concert, play, movie, but more often than not Mom's got about an hour of engagement in her, and then she's off. Where to? No preference, just out and about - not where she was. And when you get her out and about? Well, then she wants to be out and about elsewhere - not where she was there either. <sigh> So, this made our preparation for picking this year's Dementia Oscars! challenging, but... So, with Mom movie-going dubious, and me movie-going adamant, we slogged through the best picture nominees. Our sole criteria for Mom's pick

Dementia damsels in distress.

New strategies! New meds! New care partner! Slight success. When we last left our heroines they were in a pretty precarious predicament. Villainy reigned supreme leaving Girl, The Other Girl, and Mom hog-tied to a railroad track while the Dementia Express accelerated its murderous momentum, bearing down on those poor, helpless creatures as they begged for salvation. Who you calling helpless? We're not helpless. We're CAREGIVERS! If something ain't working we fix it. So we're trying. To fix it. Mom's psych doctor recommended giving Mom a low dose of Seroquel daily for relief from the rage and hallucinations (generic: quetiapine). I had done my research and was resistant to the use of anti-psy

How to bathe a Beast.

Does your dementia loved one turn tiger-by-the-tail on you when bath time looms? Ours does. But after a week of Mom looking and smelling fouler every day, we saw an opportunity and pounced. Amidst the thrashing, scratching, and screaming we showered the crap out of her. Here's the method no one in their right mind has ever recommended, but in desperation we did it anyway. Prepare: Have a second person with you. Do not attempt this on your own. The Beast will destroy you! There is safety in a pack of two. Also, use extreme gentle force, firm but soft. It's the opposite of extreme brute force 'cause, you know, she's old and brittle, and things will just break and fall right off old Beasts if y

Anywhere but here...

Failure is not falling down, but refusing to get up. - Chinese proverb She looks at me with hatred in her eyes. I think that's a little harsh since all I'm doing is attempting to gently curl her fingers around her toothbrush so she can brush her teeth. She accompanies the hateful glare with the word "No!", hissed out fast like a balloon deflating backwards across a room. She tosses the toothbrush to the side of the sink. She shuffles away. In an instance I have ceased to exist for her, and will not resurface until I once again put my face in front of hers. And I want to be anywhere but here. She won't get out of the van. Pulls the door shut in answer to my coaxing. Looks at me through the pa

Dementia: Fifty shades of sh*tty.

"Well hello there, Ms. Glitz! How are you?" "Why I'm fifty shades of shitty, pard'ner. And yourself?" Spoiler Alert: There is nothing the least bit sexy in this post. Last Friday Mom fell in the shower. My sister had succeeded in getting her in (the last shower we've been able to accomplish) only to have her fall when getting out. The Other Girl knew she was going down, but couldn't keep her upright so she held onto her as best she could to minimize the impact. Mom still hit her head on the shower wall. 911 was called immediately. As we waited my sister remained crouched on the cold bathroom tile, cradling Mom's head and shoulders as she lay on the shower floor, reassuring her, coaxing her t

Stumped Town Dementia

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