I wasn’t sure whether I would publish this article or not. But after letting it sit for a while, I decided I’d go ahead and do so.
It’s short. And the subject isn’t pleasant.
But IMO it’s important.
. . .
I “lost” someone very close recently. With one exception, I’m not going to discuss that loss further.
The exception: I say “lost” because for all intents and purposes, the individual had been gone in all but body for a long time. They had dementia. That damnable, cursed malady plus some other physical complications related to same and/or old age finally claimed their body. Their essence – that which made them “them” – left long ago.
My point here isn’t to garner sympathy. I’m doing OK. I’ve said my goodbyes – both in person when their body passed, as well as when their mind left long ago. They were well cared for, physically, until they passed; during most of their decline, they seemed happy. They’d lived a long, good life. And even before dementia, they’d had a long and happy life.
My point is this. If you’re reading this . . . you have people in your life that you care about. If you care about someone, tell them. Don’t assume they know; ensure they do.
Because l can say this with certainty: it hurts when you want to tell someone how much they mean to you and they’re no longer around. When they’re gone, you’ll realize you didn’t tell them you loved them often enough.
However: though that’s bad, it’s also normal. We all feel that way after losing someone close. No matter how many times you tell someone close you love them, after they’re gone you realize it wasn’t enough.
But there’s at least one thing that’s worse.
What’s worse is when you tell someone you care about that you love them – then look them in the eye and realize that they very likely don’t recognize you, and may never again know who you are. That really hurts like hell.
If and when that happens, there are only two things you can do. And I can guarantee you’ll do both.
You will hurt – badly. And you’ll kick yourself for not telling them more often how much you loved them . . . while they still knew who you were.
. . .
Make it a point to tell those you care about how much they mean to you, and do it frequently. Daily isn’t too often.
There is much truth in your words, Hondo. Thanks for sharing such an important bit of advice.
Would only add that is still important to tell the one you care about that you care about them even when it appears that they no longer understand who you are or what you mean. What we don’t know about what’s going on between those seemingly not hearing/understanding ears is greater than what we think we know about it. Does it cost us anything to talk with our loved one as normally as possible even when they don’t seem to respond to it appropriately? What if they really do hear us, and the short circuit is in formulating a response?
No, I have no idea what goes on/went on in the mind/s of my love ones with various forms of dementia. What I do know is that it harms no one to talk with them normally. And if I am wrong about the “them” I knew being gone, perhaps treating them normally is somehow providing them some comfort.
Word
Damn pollen…could be critter dander…possibly the heat making my eyes sweat. Had a starring role in a life’s experience just like this…several times.
Heed Hondo’s words.
Life’s journey is never easy as one passes through it whether you are the one traveling it or the one watching it happening to another, those of us that have witnessed others going through it can just know inside that they have gone to a better place.
“I Love You”.
A very powerful and important statement that is never overarrated or exaggerated that sometimes may be taken for granted.
Yes, there are situations where we may not always be on the receiving end to hear those words repeated back to us from others, especially from love ones who suffer from dementia.
Despite those circumstances, that should never stop us from ensuring our love ones know they are truly loved.
Thank You for opening up and sharing your personal experiences with us Hondo…and for passing valuable guidance and another important lesson in life to learn.
Prayers to you Hondo, on the loss of someone you loved. My Mother passed away 4 days ago from COPD/pneumonia and I feel much the way you do. My Dad and brother and I had just left the hospital when we got a call to come back, and Mom passed away alone, which hurts me. Tell the people you love what they mean to you while you can.
Condolences and prayers to you and your family, Valerie, on the loss of your Mom.
Thank you Pat, God Bless you and your family.
I’m sorry to hear of your loss, Valerie. Even when expected, losing someone that close hurts.
Condolences, Hondo, and thank you for the wisdom.
About two months ago, I got into a spat with my Dad over a misunderstanding. We worked it out, but one thing that surprised me was his reaction when I told him that I always have and always will look up to him. He was at a loss for words for a moment and almost moved to tears. This surprised me because I have a pretty good relationship with him and my Mom. I tell them I love them (and mean it) all the time. I regularly seek his advice on issues at work (it helps that I pursued the same career as him) and at home. I would’ve thought he already knew that, as my Dad, his is still my hero, yet somehow that still came as a surprise to him. So I’m glad I told him specifically that he is just as much my hero now that I’m 35 as he was when I was 5, and will still be so if I live to be 95.
My Dad’s in good health; at 58 he’s still able to smoke me on any hike. But you never know what could happen. He’s had to adopt a diet that would make me suicidal due to multiple pre-cancerous conditions the family doc has identified. 43 years in the fire service will do that to you. And I’m by no means certain that he won’t outlive me, as I’ve been experiencing some unpleasant symptoms myself over the last couple of years. Either way, I’m glad I laid that all out for my Dad, just in case.
I could not imagine the suffering of dementia. Being told “goodbye” by your loved ones while you are still lucid enough to understand they are wishing you farewell and why they are doing it while able to understand you will live for potentially years after the farewells.
Unimaginable to lose everything you are and lose everyone you know. Slowly. Over months and years. Knowing the path you are on until you fade into a form of oblivion but still live on.
Frightening disease.
My condolences to everyone* who is on that path or knows someone who is.
I am truly sorry.
They say that 10% of those over 65, 15% of those over 75, and nearly 50% of those over 85 have some form of dementia. Overall 1/3 of seniors will die with some form of dementia.
This is a silent emergency. We have one of the largest generations in human history on the precipice of a national crisis and we are not ready.
We do not have the systems in place to handle the cognitive decline of a significant percentage of our population. It takes more than 18 billion hours of care to manage the current population of effected Americans. And that number will nearly double. Essentially a half a trillion dollars per year of care hours contributed by friends, family, loved ones, civic groups, responders, and the health care community.
Thanks Hondo. Peace.
Thanks Hondo … so true.
As an anecdote of how unprepared we are for this crisis;
When I was a cop I found an elderly man parked on the side of the freeway in a van. He had approximately mid stage dementia and his van broke down. He and his dog were there in that van for two days on the side of the road in the desert before I saw the van and took him to a hospital.
While trying to find help for him it was clear he was unsure of where he was from and where he was going. I used some mail that was in the van to track down his identity and last known address.
Over two days I learned he had recently been evicted for not paying his rent.
Once evicted he loaded the few things he carried out of his home, and his dog into the van and drove toward Texas to his son and daughter in-laws home. It was on that trip he broke down in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico.
I reconstructed the past 30 days by calling any contact I could reach I based on his address name and other clues in the few pieces of mail in the van.
He was getting social security and a small military pension but he had lost the ability to manage his finances.
His landlord evicted him, he failed to file a response or pay, and sheriff deputies ultimately removed him. This is in California. He could have fought it and received assistance but he simply did not know how.
The landlord had no remorse and while he had the man’s stuff in a storage unit there was only two weeks left on the unit before he would dispose of the property.
The hospital I had dropped him off said he was going to be discharged the next morning. He was only authorized 72 hours of care. Actually 24 but they made an exception when I explained that they were releasing him under unsafe circumstances during high temperatures and I would put that in my report and testify to it if something were to happen to him. They would not budge beyond 72 hours.
I was able to contact his son in Texas. His son wanted nothing to do with him. I explained his circumstances but his son seemed unconcerned for him. I was able to convince him to at least be there to pick him up if I were able to get him to Texas.
I arranged a bus ride though Grey Hound and got special approval for his dog to accompany him.
The country shelter was unwilling to release the dog and intended to euthanize it because he did not have the money to pay the 3 days of sheltering and re-adoption fee. Literally kill his dog for being broke. I was able to get them to waive some of the fees and paid the rest. Even the sheriff was unwilling to let the county eat the cost of the dog’s care ( sheriff office ran the shelter).
I have no idea what happened to the guy after he got on that bus with the dog. My attempt to reach out to his son a week later did not get a response.
I think the initial mistake was the California deputies that removed him from the him and did not understand or have sense of duty to realize that simply evicting him and letting him drive off in a van was not the way to handle the eviction notice.
Responders in all communities need to by tied into organizations and programs that intercede in cases like this. His eviction should have been delayed and someone who helps manage the finances of those suffering from dementia and other impairment should have been brought in to help keep him in his home or help arrange affordable housing. Additional nursing/assistance visits should also have been made available.
I was struck by how little anyone at the hospital or the county was willing to help. It came down to dollars. Nobody had the resources or authorization to do anything for him and the local and county level.
Even the attitude of my sheriff made it clear he felt it was not the responsibility of his deputies to help “every” needy or indigent person or “stray” dog that found themself stranded off I-10 while passing though his county. He let me do what I could but the take away he wanted me to learn was that it was not the county’s responsibility and we did not have the funds to be doing it. And ultimately it probably made little difference.
Thanks for all of that Commissar. It is always interesting to see what goes on behind the curtain. Also thanks for having a heart.
no, the initial mistake was an uncaring family.
Everything after that are effects.
Their lack of concern for their own father is the sole cause of this tragedy.
This attitude does not really address the issue of millions of potential elderly with dementia and “uncaring” families.
First, America generally does not have a culture of strong family bonds. We moved to a nuclear family model generations ago. Most people are not we’ll connected to extended family. Most elderly have no surviving parents and if they do their parents are often in poor health with few resources. Not all elderly have children and not all children are close to their parents.
Second, we have a strong cultural emphasis on “self reliance”. While upper middle class and wealthy parents tend to find their children through college and give them a stable start the majority of middle class families have an expectation their children make their own way once they reach adulthood. This is not always the case but is a common theme in the narrative of this country.
The result of families with children who are expected to make their way at 18 is that children and their parents tend to live in different communities or states and no longer have strong family bonds since they stopped struggling and overcoming obstacles as a family and started doing it as individuals decades ago.
Imagine a military unit where soldiers had little expectation that anyone in their unit would help them overcome a challenge and everyone was expected to make it on their own. Unit cohesion would fracture and after the struggling soldiers washed out you would have a group of relatively high performing individuals but no functioning operational element. It would take another year of team training to get those remaining individuals to function as a team.
However, families rarely have the chance to reestablish the bonds of cohesive cooperation once they are fractured and families are separated by time and distance.
Third, some families have dark pasts. Alcoholism and other abuse. Physical and mental abuse. Contested divorces. Betrayals. Perceived wrongs. Some children have nothing to do with their parents or the family has been fractured into disputing and resentful factions.
You can say that none of this is the responsibility of the state or anyone else. It is their problem.
But we will still have millions of elderly with dimension and of those hundreds of thousands without family or family support.
In the case I described the man had the income (social security and pension) to stay in his home. He just lost the capacity to manage his finances due to dementia and mental confusion. Those deputies, instead of removing him from the home, could have been trained to recognize his circumstances and contacted agencies or civil groups that could provide the kind of services that would keep him houses under his own income.
Those programs exist in california. People who visit elderly weekly and make sure they are doing ok. Often with the legal authority to make payments for rent, utility, food, and healthcare out of their personal accounts if their dementia or condition has progressed to the extent they are unable to manage to do so reliably.
This may not be the optimal solution in a perfect world of individual responsibility where everyone has friend and loved ones that would care for them when they are unable to do so until they take their last breath in the living company of those close to them…
But that is not the world we live in.
I hope your friends, family, and loved ones will always feel as much responsibility toward you as you seem to expect they should.
Now that’s going above and beyond, Commissar. Thank you for assisting one in their time of need. I have little (make that ‘no’) respect for a child who would abandon a parent.
I remember how surprised and disappointed I was when a good friend and fellow veteran was diagnosed with Alzheimers and/or Senile Dementia (I forget which), and was locked up.
I regularly visited him and another veteran, and gave one of them a Christmas tree and a gift, and sang for him, although he didn’t know who I was, or that it was Christmas, and his gift was stolen by an employee.
They both managed to briefly escape, with one in a wheelchair intercepted almost immediately.
We thought my other friend had frozen to death, with his body yet to be discovered.
But, he had caught a Greyhound bus to South Carolina to visit his relatives, who eventually returned him to the Armed Forces Retirement Home in Washington, D.C., where he was once again locked up until he passed away.
As I get older (I’m now seventy-three), I have fewer and fewer friends still alive, and even kinfolk are dying off.
If I talk about the war (which is rare), hardly anybody knows what I’m talking about, and nobody is even interested, for it’s now ancient history, and I’m just another old man.
Currently, I’m totally disabled, no longer able to attend church services, or ever leave my apartment, except when being transported to a medical appointment, and my physical health continues to deteriorate, which is a very disappointing experience, as I contemplate all the things I used to be able to do, and not so long ago.
Several weeks ago, the Priesthood brethren from my local ward in The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter-day Saints brought a handful of boys to my apartment to visit, and that was a very pleasant and positive experience.
For you see, my experience in the old Republic of Viet Nam was not only about the war, but also about the establishment, growth, and history of The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter-day Saints, which today, is now recognized and accepted by the Communist government, with numerous converts, and my young visitors enjoyed being informed of that.
It’s an odd sort of thing, but when I was in Viet Nam, surrounded by other American soldiers, it seemed as if everyone in the United States was there with me.
But, now, I feel utterly alone, as if I am the only man who went to Viet Nam.
Visited the old neighborhood while passing through the area. My former across the road neighbor was checking his mailbox and I drove up to say hello. He did not recognize me and It took a while to get it out of him that he had been diagnosed with Dementia.
His wife was in Hospice with Parkinsons and his son in jail.
I was not going to leave until I was certain that he knew me. It took a while.
I fear that fate. Lost to all but those who hold on to your memories for you.
Don’t be afraid to ask someone to keep an eye on you.
I am going to add one thing this discussion if ya’ll don’t mind……
“Love is a verb.”
My father died of cancer and for seven long years my mom and I took care of him.
That meant my mom cleaning out a wound that exposed my dad’s jawbone and shoulder twice a day. For me, it meant sitting and talking with dad, arguing about cases as we watched “The People’s Court,” and me feeding him and maintaining the machines at home that we had for his care. Waking up at 3:00 AM to put Ensure in a feeding pump was normal and three other times a day was normal. Keeping track of supplies and ordering was part of the division of labor that my mom and I had. We never discussed it. We loved my father and it just got done.
Through 17 operations I did not visit only 7 days. (Out of town for work.) My mom worked in a bank, so she wasn’t able to visit on Friday’s, but she was there all the time too.
My sister was different. She never got her hands dirty. She would stop by once in awhile and chat for 10-15 minutes or so, but that was it.
The last “family meal” we had was when my mom cooked for Thanksgiving and we waited for my sister and her husband to show up. When they did they told my parents they had already eaten and needed to go to the home of his parents for dinner. The fire and anger in my father’s eyes was visible.
I got a call at work on the Friday before the NCAA Basketball Finals that they were taking dad to a hospice. He had pulled out his NG tube again and there was no point in going on. I rushed home to where he was and walked into the bedroom and gave a sad smile. He held out his hand and shook mine. “Thanks” he mouthed.
“Love ya Pop,” is all I could say.
He nodded.
By the time we got to the hospice, he was less lucid, but still there. My sister and her husband came in and my sister rushed over to him and shouted “we love you….”
Dad just looked at her. Then smiled at my mom. Then smiled at me.
He was gone the next day.
At the viewing people came up to my mom and I and said they marveled at what we had done in caring for him. Nurses who had known him came and said they loved my dad because of his attitude and how he had a good wife and son that he spoke of.
He never mentioned my sister and her husband, apparently.
I am not typing this to say how great my mom was or anything like that. Millions of people in this world would have done the same. Millions of people are like my sister and her POS husband.
It is one thing to say “I love you,” and another to show people that you love them.
As an example, if you are telling your significant other on Valentine’s Day that you love and getting a box of chocolates on that day and that day alone, you’re doing it wrong.
Loving someone is something that is more than words, it is actions. It is 24/7/365.
Love is a verb.
Thank you, gitarcarver. Truer words …
One of the most moving articles I’ve read and its appearance here comes at an important juncture in my life. Thank you so much …
Thanks for the post, Hondo. Dementia/Alzheimer’s is such a horrible disease.
Not sure if anyone read this about Tom Seaver last month – broke my heart hearing about it. Tom Terrific was an idol of mine growing up.
https://nypost.com/2019/03/07/mets-legend-tom-seaver-has-dementia/
Here’s the roster of pitchers for the 1969 Mets – Nolan Ryan was also on the staff:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1969_New_York_Mets_season#Pitching
I saw that too. About time the Mets got off their ass and put a statute of the man in front of CitiField.
It should have been done years ago…
Nothing is worse than going to visit an aging parent in a nursing home and being asked ‘Who are you, dear?’, and when you answer, your mother’s response is ‘I don’t recall having a daughter.’
Both of my grandmothers were quite lucid and aware right up to the last moment, even if my maternal grandmother had functional short-term memory loss. She could remember making donuts in her kitchen with me, but not what I said 5 minutes earlier. She was 94. My other grandmother was 96. She did not slip into the nothing and fade.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning, they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
— Dylan Thomas
Worked nights for the USPS … when a 3 day weekend came up or I had the opportunity to take few days off I would fly from Seattle to St Louis to visit my dad in the Illinois Veterans Home @ Quincy, IL.
Dad was always happy to see me and would introduce me to everybody in the ward as his brother. That was good enough for me.
Lost my mother to Alzheimer’s. I understand what you are saying.
I have experienced this with family and life long friends.
I couldn’t add anything to Hondo’s or the others who have posted.
Thank God for memories, memories of good people are a blessing.
My mother was slipping into dementia when she became ill and passed away back in 2016. She lived in Wisconsin with my sister; my brother and I lived in Georgia (and still do). We were able to make two trips north to see her during that winter when she was dying, but were not able to be there when she passed away. (We were both teachers and our school systems would not approve the extra time off.)
During my last visit with Mom, while she was being accepted into Hospice, she looked at me – her oldest – and said, “Who are you?”
I said, “Mom, I’m your son. Number One Son, remember?”
Mom said, “Are you sure?”
I had to go into the hall so she wouldn’t see me start to cry.
Dementia is the devil’s disease.
Hondo, my deepest condolences, amigo. If there’s anything I can do …
As many of you posted, I too, have been through this. My wife and I dealt with each of our mothers getting dementia before they passed on. It is such a horrendous disease for what it does to family and friends,and those afflicted with it.
My wife’s mom dealt with dementia for 5+ years, The last 2-3 years she had no idea who anyone was. My mother dealt with it for 18 months, or so, where the dementia/Alzheimer’s was pronounced, but I suspect that she had it for much longer than that.
Martin’s mama has dementia and was able to have a lucid moment when he passed away. Leaving to go home, she held her pinky and thumb out to her ear as if it were a phone receiver. She said, “if you want to talk, call me on that thing…I love you.” I kissed her, and said I love you…knowing she would never be back in our home. She fell and broke her hip and now does not recognize anyone but still lights up when children are around. I knew the last time I saw two of my grandparents, it would be the last and they know I loved them. It is hard. And I’m very sorry for everyone who deals with watching their loved ones become a vessel of their former selves.
I turn 60 this year and one of my biggest fears is getting dementia and becoming a burden on my family. My dad (WWII marine) lived to a few days short of 93 and was mentally alert till the end. My mom died of dementia at 89, she had it for about a year and a half. So, I figure I have a 50-50 chance of being ok. But, sometimes especially lately, I get a strange sense of dread, that I will never live to see retirement. Maybe it’s just getting old.
JimmyB, you’re lettin’ the Old Man in.
Stop it.
You’ll live as long as you’re supposed to. Enjoy every day of it, but don’t let the Old Man in.
My job has me leaving the house at an unseemly hour. Before I leave, I would go to the bed, give my wife a kiss and tell her I love her. She would tell me to be safe. Just before Christmas I returned home to find that she had never reawakened. It is important to tell them you love them. My daughter now tells me that at least once a day.
Very nice article Mr. Hondo. Unfortunately I, too, know someone going that way. As a guy I used to work for used to say half jokingly, “Makes you want to move the shotgun a little closer to the bed”. “Growing old ain’t for sissies” is another good one.
Another older friend of mine (all my friends seem to be ‘older’ these days) teaches skydiving and is quite the proponent. That would let the problem sort itself out, sort of and go out with a bang, not a whimper. If you are as acrophobic as I am, you wouldn’t need to forget to pull the ripcord, the massive dose of adrenalin would do the job.
Damn, this is a depressing subject. Think I’ll take another anti-depressant. Jameson DihydrogenOxide. (Out of Bushmill’s,dammit).
Each one of these could easily fit an MRE and then some.