Talk with the psychologist

Your friend may have been dealing with depression, that’s true. But the memory loss and cognitive decline are due to dementia.

Depression that can be mistaken for dementia is a different pattern. He would have a difficult time answering the questions, but he would come up with more correct answers than he has.

This assessment was not what I was hoping to hear.

My initial reaction was calm. Perhaps I was halfway expecting this diagnosis. Perhaps I had been living with denial, when I hoped that the diagnosis would be depression. I think I was more alarmed that the psychologist would use the word “dementia” in front of Carl.

My calm lasted for two days. Looking at my journal, the day after the psychologist visit was filled with distraction — some useful work — but nothing that had to do with the diagnosis.

The following day started with more distracting and useful work. Then I started worrying what to say to Mother, in my weekly note to her. Mother is pretty much house bound, so I shared my life with her in weekly, chatty notes. I was worrying how candid I ought to be about Carl’s diagnosis.

That afternoon, after mailing Mother’s note, Carl and I went for a walk in a nearby park. I was quiet, and Carl asked several times whether there was something wrong. As we walked, every two minutes, I would seize up, surging close to convulsing into tears. In the background, I wondered whether I was feeling sorry for myself, or for my dearest friend of thirty-three years.

At the same time, I worried that I needed to conceal the reason for my distress, if not necessarily the distress itself, from Carl.

The next two days were busy with appointments and errands and distractions. The bird that flew into the house through a gap in the screen was certainly a disagreeable distraction.

It was during these two days that an idea started to form in my mind. This was an idea of how to move myself from impotent and ignorant grief and fury — toward me exerting the most effective effort I can to make the best I can of this unhappy situation — for me — and for Carl.

I will do my best to become well educated on the subject of dementia in general — and about what Carl is dealing with in particular. I’m not in a position to become a professional in some dementia related discipline, but I can become a knowledgeable amateur. I can research and explore resources on the Internet. I can seek out the best books on Amazon. I can find other resources and people to work with and to learn from. And I can share what I find — I can share my journey — through this blog.

My research — and the understanding I will discover — may help me deal with the situation. They may help me deal with my anger, my grief, and with who knows what else.

As well, they may enable me to be more helpful to Carl, and to make his life better.

I don’t know what I will find. And I don’t know how much help I can be.
But I will find my path beyond the tears.