I have been out of bed from 2.30 am this morning.  As always, with dementia the elephant in the room, there has been plenty on my mind and clothes sorting to complete.  An hour later and I have a system that is an improvement on the previous set up but is little more than a holding position.  However, it is a basis to move forward and detail is not necessary for blogging purposes this morning.  Something else is on my mind as I sort through the morass of clothes: how did we all miss that dementia was before our eyes well before stroke?

Any perusal through M’ s belongings indicates long standing chaos.  The evidence is so clear: no systems for anything; bits of paper with notes scribbled on;  important documents left in the open, and much more.  This chaos if from a woman who personified order throughout her life: ‘everything has a place and everything has its place’.

So why did we miss what was going on and not spot that fundamental changes were taking place in M’s behaviour?  I have already held me hand up and admitted I backed the ‘wrong horse’.  Making personality change my wager rather than the dodgy bet of dementia.  Extensive cover up on M’s behalf made it difficult for others, particularly those who only saw her occasionally, to spot the downward trend in her functional capacity.   In fact the cover up continues as M is still able to go into the ‘hostess mode’ particularly when family visit.  There were other things that were happening in M’s life that may have led us all down the wrong path.

In fact the five years proceeding stroke would have been sufficient to provoke serious reactions from an Olympic Gold Medalist.  The immediate family situation has been far from calm or simple: premature death; suicide attempts; divorce and remarriage having their impact.  So with so many things going on, and M’s age, it is not surprising that we took our eye off the ball.

On the other hand anyone under the stress that M has been under may have gone out and bought enough clothing to open a high class boutique; with over £200 worth unworn with labels still attached.  Shopping for clothing could have become almost an addiction to help manage stress.  One thing for sure is we will never know when dementia became the prominent thorn in M’s flesh rather than the trials of life life meant that things just got out if hand.

When I ponder over our reluctance to accept that M was suffering from dementia I often think of a dear friend of mine.  She put down changes in her husbands personality to the aging process.  Fortunately, an operation to remove a tumor,  the size of a tennis ball, close to his brain was successful.  He appeared to make a good recovery and returned to work and functioned reasonably well.  His wife struggled to accept how she had missed the signs that something was wrong: she is General Practitioner.

My immediate mission this morning is now clear on the clothing front.  To retain a few things in M’s wardrobe that might just entice her out of her favourite  blue joggers: limited choices might just do the trick.  Now she is down to one bra it might be easier to persuade her to warm to a replacement.

 I keep trying and if something doesn’t work I try something different.