Reflections On Receiving Your Report...

Oh the report? The report hit me like a ton of bricks.

It was so different, before the report than it is now...and I am not sure if I can even describe it anymore. I'll try. Before, when you were aware of your loss in function...and you were telling people of your struggles, and they minimize it, and you had the glorious luxury of wondering if it was all just in your head and you were really fine. Before, I thought I had a good handle on what I was struggling with (task wise)...but thought that others saw me as more able.

Then there was the day you get the report. The first few moments there is a relief *phew* it really wasn't all in my head. And then you think, *crap*....I really DO have this. It really IS going to be progressive. It is as if aspects of this dementia issue appear that were not there before...and a lull comes over you as you face your coming death in a way you haven't before...because now it is real. And there is fear too because now you can no longer hide it (not that I was hiding it as well as I thought I was to begin with).

But after a while, as the sun rises a few more times and life around you continues to go on...the grass still grows, the birds still sing, the dog wags his tail...and life is like you never got the report...you realize that you really ARE ok, and the sun really WILL continue to rise...and your life CAN go on. And it can go on in a way it hadn't before.

Now that you have a diagnosis, and thanks to the diagnosis, you can begin to take charge of things, especially of your future. A sense of empowerment comes over you. And you can move on because you are no longer trying to get the doctors to believe you and you no longer have to fight for a diagnosis. Now you can get books, start an exercise program, a diet, and getting out and socializing more.

Later comes the realization that things in the dementia world are not nearly as good as they should be. And gravely different than it is in the cancer world where people "get" that you are suffering. They say it like they "get it" in the dementia world, but really it means that everyone sees your caregiver as suffering...people don't really see you anymore. And no one cares what you have to say anymore. It is as if you went from human one day to a door stop the next.