Some say cancer is the cruelest disease, and they all would have a valid point. Some would say other diseases like heart disease, COPD, etc. would be the cruelest disease, and they all would have valid points as well. There’s really no right or wrong answer as to which disease is the worst. In my opinion, dementia is the worst disease.
I’ve heard that dementia is a disease that causes the person who has it to die in slow motion, and boy, that’s exactly right! It’s a disease that starts in one area of the brain and slowly spreads to other areas like a cancer. Short-term memory is usually the first thing to go. They start forgetting recent events and how to do simple tasks.
As the disease progresses, the person becomes increasingly dependent. They need assistance with daily activities dealing with hygiene as well as feeding. Walking becomes increasingly difficult as well, and eventually becomes unable to walk at all. Finally, dementia takes away their ability to verbally communicate.
My mom has dementia. It’s heartbreaking to see the person who raised you revert back to a child knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it because there’s no cure. When I look at my mom, so many memories come rushing back.
Mom spent many hours helping me do homework. She stayed up as late as she had to and never complained once. If I had to go to the library to do research on the weekends, all weekend chores were put on hold. There were nights in my high school years when I had so much homework that if I had to read a few chapters of a novel for English class, she would read them to me so I could get to bed.
Mom also helped me exercise when I was growing up. We made many laps in our pool and threw the nerf ball around. She really didn’t care what I did in the pool because anything I did was exercise.
Mom stayed all day at college and just sat in the van waiting for me. Being an Information Systems major often required me to spend many hours in the computer lab working on programming assignments. I closed the lab on many of those nights, and we’re talking midnight! Again, she never complained.
Mom grew up going to singing conventions, which is where you sit and you sing in four-part harmony all day. Granddaddy played piano at these sings and told Mom and my aunt if he couldn’t hear them singing, he was going to wear them out. She, along with my aunt, belted it out whether the song required it or not!
When Mom and I started singing together, her volume became the source of very interesting rehearsals. She would sing so loud I couldn’t hear the music. I had to teach her how to blend.
Mom had the ability to pick out harmony on any song, and that’s what made our duets great. Mom gained that ability by going to all those sings growing up. We sang duets a lot over the years, and we sang until her dementia got severe enough to where she just couldn’t do it anymore. Now I just do those songs solo because nobody can replace Mom.
After those memories fade and I come back to reality, I look at Mom and just want to cry because the Mom I knew is gone. She watched me graduate from high school and college, be ordained as a deacon, sing more times than I can count, and marry the love of my life. Now she remembers none of it. That’s ok though. I know what she did for me and how God used her.
Now the roles are reversed. When we go see my parents, we help all we can. It feels strange to tell your parent what to do. However, there comes a point I have to not think about that and do what needs doing.
I call every chance I get, and most times she doesn’t speak. It doesn’t bother me much because I know she loves me. She’s in God’s hands now, and knowing that is what gets me through.
I love you, Mom!