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.


Dementia Perspective: Loss and Grief

I'm grieving 'cause I've lost my mom. Oh, no, wait, found her! She's right there, peeing on the carpet! Throughout Mom's dementia journey, I've wrassled my thoughts and feelings into dementia perspectives that sometimes differ from the majority. I write them out so I can understand my own mind better, and connect with others who are also thinking dementia-different. One of my most oft used tools in my caregiver bag of tricks is accessing the advice, support, and compassion of others in the dementia community through social media. I am grateful for instant access to their stories, both dementia victories and defeats. They prop me up and keep me going and I'm thankful for the daily reminders t

A date with death.

Turns out, she's really good company. Right after Nurse Apple uttered the words "I'm sorry, your mother's not ready for hospice," she tossed a consolation prize onto the table, "but you might consider a death doula." I replied with my usual scintillating intelligence and wit, "Uh... a what?" A Death Doula! Can anything be more perfect for a dementia caregiver to poke her nose into at Halloween? We spend every day of the year flailing about underwater in an end-of-life flood, but 'tis the season when the rest of the world joins us in celebrating the macabre. So, equally terrified and fascinated by the visions I spun in my head of an Eyes Wide Shut-like sisterhood of spectral spinsters, I made

Forced Dancing: Viva la Mexicana!

Is there any better way to celebrate Day of the Dead than force dancing your dementia loved one? I don't think so! I woke up the other morning with a song in my head that turned out to be a jingle that turned out to be racist, but my "Ai-yi-yi!" made Mom smile so, my apologies in advance to my fellow human beings of Latino decent. I sure hope the "Hanker for a Hunk of Cheese" guy wasn't a bigoted schmuck too. That would blow my whole childhood out of the water. Can't get enough of me torturing my mother through dance? I gotchoo' covered! Forced Dancing Forced Dancing 2: Riverdance! #dementiahumor #october2019

Double, double toil and trouble!

Tormenting Mom with a dementia double date in Halloweentown. When a long-time Stumped Town Dementia reader who I'll call "Deb" (you know... because that's her name), discovered that we live a mini-road trip away from each other she and her husband invited us to spooky fall fun in their hometown of St. Helens, Oregon - also known as Halloweentown! Ever since Disney and Debbie Reynolds showed up on the steps of their little burg to make the Halloweentown movie in the late 90's, and the Twilight people knocked out some exterior shots at several local hovels in 2008, the denizens of St. Helens have been celebrating all things unnatural the entire month of October. Well! Since I too like to celeb

Choice of Words Matters in Dementia

I rolled out of bed way too early last Saturday morning, readying myself for a flight to Denver to hang with one of my best girls. I was attempting to light a get-to-the-airport-on-time fire under my ass with a cup of joe when I came across the latest Ro & Steve blog post that hit full-on to the core of how I feel as Mom's caregiver. So much so that I wanted to share it with everyone. (I also wanted to pretend I wrote it, but as the actual writer is a subscriber to Stumped Town Dementia I figured he'd prolly notice and then there'd be a big online fight with cyber beer bottles being thrown, virtual noses being broken, and interweb saloon doors flying open as bodies were chucked out. As fun a

What do we say to the God of Dementia?

Not today. Last week dementia reduced me to nothing more than primal rage; spitting bitterness, hissing hatred, flinging frustration at any who dared come near - hoping to infect all within my sphere in some twisted effort to decrease my suffering by increasing everyone else's. I'd say that's an epic dementia fail. Hell, that's an epic humanity fail. But I'm not built for constant anguish. My temperament is not compatible with days awash in tragedy; grieving for Mom, for myself. My nature wants to nurture my hopes and dreams; comfort Mom's misery and fears, not be chained deep down in a dungeon of mourning for what was but can no longer be - for her or I. Mom wants to be dementia free. Not g

Stumped Town Dementia

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