Saturday, July 18, 1992
O. J. woke up about 5:15 and went to the bathroom. He came back to the bed to get me up. He complained of a bad toothache on the left side of his mouth and wanted me to get some pain killer and a cup of coffee. He lay back down and I went to the kitchen for coffee and aspirin.
I put water and coffee in the coffee maker and turned it on. Then I transferred the wet clothes washed at bedtime to the dryer and turned on the dryer. The coffee grounds and water began overflowing and running all over the counter. At the same time smoke began billowing from behind the dryer. After I stopped the dryer and fanned the smoke out I cleaned up the coffee the coffee mess and made a new pot of coffee. I was too frustrated by the mess to be spooked by all that was going on.
About 25 minutes after I left to make coffee I returned to O. J. with the hot coffee and placed it on a table by his bed about 14 inches from his face.
“Where’s my coffee? What took you so long? His speech was slurred as it often was when he first waked. I thought he was teasing .
“If it was a snake..." I teased.
“Damn it, where is the coffee?" he said growing angry.
He can’t see it.
“Here, O. J., let me help you sit up.” I helped him to an upright position with both feet on the floor and handed him the cup.
He made a grasping movement about 12 inches from the cup. I placed the cup in his right hand and guided his left to a steadying position.While he was drinking it I called Missy, our daughter, who lived next door. She dressed and hurried over.
By the time Missy arrived I had helped O. J. get his pants on and had tested his sight by holding up fingers in front of his eyes one at a time. We finished dressing him to go to the hospital and called Martha, the daughter with an RN, to meet us there.
With our help he walked to the pickup still complaining of a toothache and talked drowsily as we went to the hospital. He wanted to walk in but Martha and an orderly persuaded him to ride in the wheelchair while I parked the car.
O. j. was immediately checked by the triage nurse then sent into an examination room. A resident took more information from me and Martha with O. J. giving weak responses when asked direct questions. We related facts about a major stroke in June, 1977, and the increasing frequency of TIAS within the past 28 months. We listed occurrences and the time lapses before the recovery with small residual effects.
After a CAT scan it was documented that there had been a “significant stroke” possibly the beginning of a larger episode. O. J. was sent to the 7th floor to the stroke unit for care and observation.
Showing posts with label dementia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dementia. Show all posts
Friday, May 14, 2010
Going Down A Caregivers Recollection by Dorothy Graham Gast
In the vernacular of the rural South social interaction not only asks about the health of the second person, but also the mother, father, or other family leader. If that person’s health is failing, the response is that the person is “going down”. Of course the ultimate is death, but the question and its answer shows the preoccupation with the journey as well as the condition.
O. J. Gast turned 70 in 1989. He was vigorously farming, traveling, involved in many community and church events. And enjoying his retirement. People often thought him much younger than his actual age, because of his vigor and his youthful outlook on life. Then little things began n to happen. He was not forgetful as I have been all my life constantly losing things and forgetting occasions, but forgetful about generalized information. Telling time and counting money became more difficult. Because cataracts had developed, he had surgery to remedy that, then came to realize that something more was going on. Having 20/20 corrected vision did not improve his diminishing perceptions.
The cataloging of the steps in the failing process reminded me of pictures in old geography books showing the distribution of cotton farming. Dots showed number of instances. A few scattered dots in the fringe areas, going closer and thicker in coverage until the focus area would be completely covered. Small occasional instances perhaps twice a month accelerated in amount and severity until suddenly the facts could no longer be ignored. O.J. Gast was “going down”.
Letters and journals written during O. J.’s decline exposed a pattern I had never seen during the beginning months. These have been put together in a loose chronological order to show what mental incapacity does within a home and a family group. Alzheimer’s disease where the brain becomes less able to function normally because of chemical and/or physical changes and multi-infarct dementia where many continuing strokes, large and small gradually cut off oxygen to the brain and the affected part fails have basically the same symptoms. Only an autopsy IS conclusive.
This is the story of one man and his path through the maze while he was “going down.’ He agreed that we should be open and transparent as the disease progressed, never pretending that everything was alright. He laughed at the time nurses confused us and thought I was the patient. The staff from Home Health and later Hospice were wonderful and helped as much with our emotional health as his physical health.
As his wife, my writing is biased with the tender eyes of a family member, and I have no medical training to counterbalance it. Yet I spent more than 6 years in concentrated study with individualized instruction from many medical specialists. With apprehension, I open the records of our family life with all its weaknesses and difficulties to the world, hoping that to some there may be found in this increasing darkness rays of light. Most of the names are changed to protect privacy. The information is our personal experiences presented in my point of view. Sometimes brave, or wise, or funny, but mostly ordinary, or frightened, or discouraged, they are a record of a family’s efforts to face and come to grips with approaching death of a loved one.
Going Down is my tribute to the man who refused to let disability destroy his love of life and family, his sense of humor, or his dignity. I hope readers can see that the situation is filled with moments of joy and fun as well as the long corridor of darkness often portrayed. We have no right to say someone is dying until the last breath is drawn.
Can love help you live longer? Find out now.
In the vernacular of the rural South social interaction not only asks about the health of the second person, but also the mother, father, or other family leader. If that person’s health is failing, the response is that the person is “going down”. Of course the ultimate is death, but the question and its answer shows the preoccupation with the journey as well as the condition.
O. J. Gast turned 70 in 1989. He was vigorously farming, traveling, involved in many community and church events. And enjoying his retirement. People often thought him much younger than his actual age, because of his vigor and his youthful outlook on life. Then little things began n to happen. He was not forgetful as I have been all my life constantly losing things and forgetting occasions, but forgetful about generalized information. Telling time and counting money became more difficult. Because cataracts had developed, he had surgery to remedy that, then came to realize that something more was going on. Having 20/20 corrected vision did not improve his diminishing perceptions.
The cataloging of the steps in the failing process reminded me of pictures in old geography books showing the distribution of cotton farming. Dots showed number of instances. A few scattered dots in the fringe areas, going closer and thicker in coverage until the focus area would be completely covered. Small occasional instances perhaps twice a month accelerated in amount and severity until suddenly the facts could no longer be ignored. O.J. Gast was “going down”.
Letters and journals written during O. J.’s decline exposed a pattern I had never seen during the beginning months. These have been put together in a loose chronological order to show what mental incapacity does within a home and a family group. Alzheimer’s disease where the brain becomes less able to function normally because of chemical and/or physical changes and multi-infarct dementia where many continuing strokes, large and small gradually cut off oxygen to the brain and the affected part fails have basically the same symptoms. Only an autopsy IS conclusive.
This is the story of one man and his path through the maze while he was “going down.’ He agreed that we should be open and transparent as the disease progressed, never pretending that everything was alright. He laughed at the time nurses confused us and thought I was the patient. The staff from Home Health and later Hospice were wonderful and helped as much with our emotional health as his physical health.
As his wife, my writing is biased with the tender eyes of a family member, and I have no medical training to counterbalance it. Yet I spent more than 6 years in concentrated study with individualized instruction from many medical specialists. With apprehension, I open the records of our family life with all its weaknesses and difficulties to the world, hoping that to some there may be found in this increasing darkness rays of light. Most of the names are changed to protect privacy. The information is our personal experiences presented in my point of view. Sometimes brave, or wise, or funny, but mostly ordinary, or frightened, or discouraged, they are a record of a family’s efforts to face and come to grips with approaching death of a loved one.
Going Down is my tribute to the man who refused to let disability destroy his love of life and family, his sense of humor, or his dignity. I hope readers can see that the situation is filled with moments of joy and fun as well as the long corridor of darkness often portrayed. We have no right to say someone is dying until the last breath is drawn.
Can love help you live longer? Find out now.
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