Vascular Dementia

That's the name they have put on Don, to explain what's going on in his brain. Here is the information I have been reading.   This diagnosis hit Ella hard.

When I arrived today she was in her PJ's and robe, which is absolutely unlike her. She didn't want lunch. She was almost snippy with me, which is also very much not like her. I think the stress of this situation is breaking her down as quickly as Don is failing.

Don, however, was quite cheery and happy to see me. He had just had a shower, and was looking fresh and bright sitting in his recliner. We chatted for a while and he was very lucid. Ella seemed to want to fuss about this, which was strange. She showed me what she wanted me to do today. It was 100% housework. I'm not a housekeeper. I'm a caregiver. But the normally very neat house was a disaster, and I was to correct that. There were beds to strip and re-do, kitchen cabinets to scrub inside and re-organize, vacuuming, dusting, floor care, laundry, ironing, and garbage and recycle, as well as cleaning both bathrooms. The whole house, in other words. We've got to have a talk!

I got it done, and had a little time to interact with Don. Ella is SO stressed out, that I think she panics him. She speaks quickly, and in staccato tones, rapid-fire. I think this overwhelms him. At every opportunity, Ella reminded me that Don was "not good". I want to correct her, and say this doesn't have to be so hard. She can relax.

It's true that Don requires constant supervision now. As soon as I arrived, he stood up and said that he wanted to go and get the lawn mower. I told him that, thankfully, the cold weather has slowed the growth of the lawn so he gets a break! "I need a break" he replied. True words, Don. We talked about the bird feeder, the aggressive Stellar's Jays, and how birdseed sprouts, before Ella interrupted us and made me go to work being a housekeeper.

Don has started to pace, nervously. He looks out the window, but doesn't know what he's looking for. If I were free to be the caregiver that I am, I would walk with him, and we would talk about what is out there.

When I was done with my huge list of "to do", I told Don I would be getting out of his hair now. He remembered that I had a lot of people coming for dinner on Thanksgiving, and commented on that. Then he said, unexpectedly, "Have you got a minute?"
"Sure, Don. What's up?"
"I'm supposed to give you something."
We walked into the mudroom, where their freezer is. He opened it and got out a little plastic dish of applesauce, that said "October, 2013". He smiled as he handed it to me. I thanked him profusely. This was very special.

Hugs all around, and then as I was walking toward the door Ella said "You know that's probably the last applesauce he will ever make." Yes.... wow. I almost didn't want to take it. But this tall, handsome, soft-spoken man offered me what he had to offer. Applesauce. We'll enjoy it during Thanksgiving, and think of him.
"Bye bye!" he called cheerfully. "Have a great Thanksgiving!"

I really think that those with this type of Dementia respond to stress by being confused. But I'm not a scientist. Just a caregiver. And, evidently, a housekeeper.