We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, and constellations.
-Anais Nin-

On this day we remember all who have passed, rejoice in their lives and how they touched our hearts. We share a moment of silence for the souls we miss terribly.

Today was one of the most heart-wrenching days I have had. I little background on my sadness:
The cost to stay in an assisted living facility that focuses on dementia is appx. $3,000 to $4,000 a month in the midwest... give or take. That includes everything but pharmacy bills.
The elderly people needing these types of services usually sell their homes, liquidate all of their assests, put it all in an account for their family to manage for them. A Power Of Attorney.
They may have only a bed, dresser, and few trinkets to show for their lifetime of hard work, sacrifices, and struggles, but they will get quality personalized care.
A person with Alzheimer's disease can live from 3-10 years.. we'll say 6 years for an average.
That is $288,000! Over a quarter of a million dollars!!
Then... they are out of cash, what next, what about the elderly that may beat the averages and the odds and live to the 10 years or even past.
The facility will say, "thank you very much for your quarter of a million but we have no available beds for poor people." Even if the facility still is the most appropriate placement, even if moving them may set them back, confuse them, cause them great anxiety.
THEN... to move to another facility you have to have at least a few months of private pay before they will accept you, another $12,000 and that is being kind, most require 18 months to 2 years private pay.

I understand business, I know that we all have to earn a living. It pains me to feel as if vulernable souls, our elderly, can be so disposable.

Today, I am not so proud of what I do.

As a nurse, part of my job is to educate. I am always amazed at families who are taking care of loved ones with dementia but are not quite sure what that all means.

Dementia is NOT a diagnosis. It is a clinical term, a group of symptoms associated with the loss of brain function as a side affect of mental of physical illness. Example: If you go to the Doctor because you hurt, your symptom would be pain. Pain is not a diagnosis and you would not leave his office until you knew the cause of the pain, and more importantly, how to treat it. With dementia there is a cause and some types can be treated. Most are "managed" with medication to slow the disease process.

Less than 10% of dementias are reversible. Dementia resulting from depression, low levels of thyroid hormone, niacin and vitamin B12 deficiencies can often be reversed.

Alzheimer's disease is the most common cause of dementia followed by vascular or multi-infarct dementia.

Alois Alzheimer was born June 14th, 1864 in Germany. In 1901 he studied a 51 year old woman Auguste D. who he cared for for 4 years in the asylum in Frankfurt am Main where he was a medical officer. When Auguste D. died in 1905 an autopsy of her brain found threadlike spindle-shaped objects, her brain had shriveled, and the neurons had disappeared. In 1906 he gave a lecture about his findings which he identified an unusual disease of the cerebral cortex. Surprisingly, diagnosis today is generally based on the same methods used in 1906. Dr. Alzheimer died December 19th, 1915 of endocarditis (heart valve infection) and kidney failure at the age of 51. Odd trivia: Dr. Alzheimer's doctoral thesis was done on earwax glands.

My Grandfather died of Alzheimer's Disease a few years ago. He worked into his 80's ushering people into the stadium in Milwaulkee, Wisconsin. Baseball was his passion, he didn't need to work but he saw all the games for free and was always a very social man. The first sign, he was taking longer and longer to get home from the ball park, sometimes up to 3 hours. He was getting lost. My Father and Aunt decided that they needed placement for him for safety. My Grandfather was also a diabetic which he could not control on his own any longer. He was moved to a facility in northern Wisconsin near my Aunt. Within the first month he eloped, a term that means escaped in nursing home lingo. He was not found until the next day in a wooded area near the facility. It was late fall with night temperatures in the 20's. When he was found his blood sugar was in the teens. He survived. He was placed in a secure unit where for the next few years he thought he was at the airport and announced flights as people strolled by. He was in a wheelchair, incontinent, and totally dependent for all his needs. I remember my Grandfather as a strong, stern man that demanded respect. In my heart I felt he would have been o.k. leaving on his own terms in a small patch of woods in northern Wisconsin. End stage Alzheimer's Disease is ugly. It is full circle, inability to walk, talk, feed yourself, like the first days you arrive in the world. 50% of all people over the age of 85 suffer from some type of dementia. There are 70-80 types, some are treatable.

I am a nurse. I deal daily with emotions, sickness, devastation, and the reality of incurable diseases of the brain. It is a slow decline of a persons mind and personality. Family members are on-lookers as the disease takes their mom or dad or sister or aunt and turns them into someone that they do not recognize, and the irony is...their mom or dad or sister or aunt no longer recognizes them, literally.

In these days of dementia there are shining moments, "Window Moments," when out of blue, a person suffering from Alzheimer's or some form of dementia will return for a brief moment and share a memory or a feeling. These moments are amazing. Years ago, I sat bedside of a frail woman named Olga suffering from end stage Alzheimer's Disease. Olga was awake, she was so thin. She had not spoken a lot in the past few months and her body was tired. I brought her vanilla ice cream and begin to slowly feed her tiny bites. I was a night shift nurse it had to be 2a.m. Olga began to speak, "I loved to dance," she said, "I was so beautiful and I was happy." "We danced every Saturday night, remember?" I listened to Olga relive her youth she smiled and giggled as a young girl would. Olga's "Window Moment," lasted nearly 1 hour. I was honored to have shared it with her. Olga passed away less than a month after our 2 a.m. ice cream. I felt she was dancing again and she left me with a sense of serenity. I will always remember her.