How We Got A Diagnosis: "The Dad Card"
The summer of 2007 is indeed when mom's symptoms became stranger. Having her sing Happy Birthday to me four times in very quick succession, each because she had just forgotten we'd done it, was frightening. That was not grief over the loss of my father, something was very wrong. And I had no idea what to do.
I was scared, sad and really lost knowing that I suddenly was responsible for taking care of her - she felt nothing was wrong. Her health otherwise was good and she certainly did not want to be fussed over. I now had a secret - something was wrong with her and she wouldn't acknowledge it or let me help. CRAP.
One day several months later I confessed my secret to a co-worker over lunch. The weight was too much to bear and I didn't have a clue what was wrong. She recommended a Geriatric Clinic located in the best hospital in town for testing. I knew mom would NEVER go to a place named a Geriatric Clinic, at 67 she didn't think of herself as old let alone GERIATRIC....so how do I get her to go...
...the concern of a daughter....and "The Dad Card". I hated even thinking of using my father's death as a way of getting her to this clinic, but I did it. I tried every other way I knew how to persuade her to go and we ended up fighting. I calmed down, and started to cry for a million reasons. I told her that I promised dad before he died that I would take care of her. "Please, please do this for dad" I begged. Alright, she'd go. But she was NOT happy about it.
There were three appointments involved in the process: nurse's appointment to assess overall health, a doctor's appointment and a family meeting to discuss the results. Persuasion times three - that was rough, but she went.
On the drive over once she sang with the radio..."Sexual Healing"...omg was that awkward and funny.
We had several more visits than originally planned: neuropsych, two CT scans and an MRI. They knew something was wrong, couldn't pinpoint it right away. Final diagnosis: Frontotemporal Dementia. I felt relieved in a way - it had a name and something was wrong. No cure or treatment though. And we caught it early...
Now what?