Who likes roller coasters? C’mon, be honest. The anticipation? The rush? Chugging slowly up and up ...and up and then plunging through a stomach-lurching drop? Getting bashed around as strangers laugh and scream all around you? Woo hooo! I used to love those few minutes of dignity-stripping humility.
So many of us have gladly paid good money for the privilege of reaching a state of blissful terror on The Beast, Prowler or Twisted Colossus! However, if you are like me, times have changed. I now question the sanity of those who surrender their cash, stand in line to board those little carts, and gleefully lower the safety bar.
The dementia roller coaster ride is not dissimilar.
The ride Mom and I are sharing is very much a roller coaster. We’ve had more than enough unexpected and frankly terrifying twists, bumps, and fast paced declines. I can’t see what’s ahead so I struggle to predict what's around the corner. As a result, I am too often unaware of and unprepared for what's coming next. Fear - and not the healthy kind - is constant. The ride, that was slow to get started, seems to gather momentum and move at break-neck speeds after each painful, anxiety-inducing climb. And, we can’t get off – no matter how badly we’d like to.
After every unexpected experience, which usually includes another devastating cognitive loss for Mom, I try to convince myself that I’m ready for what’s next. I tell myself I can handle whatever dementia throws at us because I am oh so brave, smart and strong. Ha! Haha! Lies! I'm not sure when I became delusional.
I am constantly caught off guard.
My first ride on the Dementia Demon with Dad did little to prepare me for this second trip. There are certainly similarities but the ride, for both of us, is unique. We know that we are probably, relatively safe and that the ride is going end -- but we don’t when or how or who we will be when we rattle over that finish line. I’m hoping Mom and I will be together, still able to laugh, lean into each other, and marvel at what a wonderful ride we've shared.
Lessons Learned:
No one chooses the dementia ride and exiting the line or getting off early are not options once the ride starts.
Buckle up because it will be a bumpy ride, and likely longer than expected.
It's ok to scream for help when you need it -- don't forget to throw your arms up when you do.
Someone is always beside us -- there are programs and a community of professionals, family and friends to help keep us safe and on the tracks.
There will be terrifying moments as well as flashes of exhilaration and joy.