Masked Faces

Cell phone pictures 

can be chronicles 

of life and death.

How often we                                                                            

"put on a face" in life. 

Smile for the camera!

We see the surprise, love,                                                                                               caring, passing of time 

on her face.

I just went through 

pictures of Mom.

In boxes & on my phone.                                                                                     Snapshots from 

the years of her life, 

our life together.

In later years 

so many pictures of Mom 

"daydreaming".

Appearing to be 

somewhere within her mind. 

With us sometimes briefly 

and sometimes deeply.

Her eye focus changed.

I see that now.

 

Her facial expressions lessened.

Smiling, reacting, common reactions 

faded slowly -- at first.

After her last birthday, 

we noticed she was losing                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     the ability to remember 

common actions.

She didn't understand 

how to take the wrapping paper 

off a present and couldn't open 

the untaped box with new clothes. 

Mom always tried to 

open packages with great care.                                                      trying to "keep the paper intact --

to use again".         

Valuing, knowing the end of time

comes without warning.

Being prepared meant survival.

A child of very little means growing up. 

A young woman during the Depression.

 

She taught us to "use it up, repair it, 

make do or do without".                              

Lessons for survival 

providing more 

than we'd ever expected.

I remember her ability to communicate 

and even seem to be cognizant 

to one degree or another 

up until about two weeks 

prior to her passing. 

No one prepares you 

for this major capability change.

My first blog entry was  

"When the Child Becomes The Mother" 

As I re-read this and other entries

I know the time has passed.

It just doesn't seem possible 

it's more than a decade.

I had no idea then it would be 

less than a year after that date 

Mom would leave this life. 

Looking back, 

reversing roles 

started long before that date;  

many adjustments 

to ensure her safety, 

her personal well being.

Subtle messages 

of what was to come. 

Trying to survive, work, 

visit her every day, 

we didn't clearly see 

what was happening 

before our eyes. 

Life moves 

in multiple directions 

all at one time.

LBD is a MASK 

like those worn for 

Carnival or Halloween.  

(Today, I can also reference 

masks we wore during COVID.)

Face coverings with a stick 

someone puts in front of their face 

meant to hold it in place 

or it can be removed to see 

the "real" person underneath.

Later, it appears to be

the kind that are put on

and have a ribbon 

to tie in the back 

you can lossen 

to drop down or remove.

As time passes, 

the MASK becomes 

the type with a stretchy band 

around your head or ears.

It's always there 

sometimes slipping down 

or confusing others, 

who you see & who you don't.

With LBD it goes 

down the front of your face

and remains around your neck.

Then, the MASK changes completely

and it's painted on the face;

always there, always prominent.

We had no roadmap to guide us, 

no specifics as to this disease's 

progression in behaviours.

We were constantly guessing 

as to what to do, how to act.

We had decisions to make 

to ensure we provided for 

and protected Mom -- 

from herself and often f

rom the acts of others 

who simply did not care 

to find out about Dementia. 

And, because no one 

ever counseled us or 

provided any information 

about Dementia, 

we wandered through this time 

as though in a fog 

looking for the Sun and a little light.

We took pictures and videos. 

At the time, many, to try to 

understand and explain to my son, 

who couldn't be with us, 

his Grandmother's actions 

and behaviors on any given day.

Often, especially in the beginning 

of her "last" months, she had the ability to talk 

and "fake" responses through common 

comments and even through appropriate 

responses (son:  Love you Grandma! Mom: Love you, too!) caused him to still question his grandmother's deteriorating health and the effects of the LBD.)

We took pictures to chronicle the numerous challenges we faced with Mom's Skilled Nursing Facility.

Highly recommend anyone with a loved one in a facility take advantage of the ability to chronicle/document what few people see, hear about, or realize.

Lewy Body Dementia doesn't just place masks on those whose bodies it invades, it puts masks on SNC staff and everyone who attends the men and women who live there.

(The above was originally written March 14, 2014) 

Very little has changed and this is January, 2025. 

Darkness surrounds Dementia of all types.

I continue my journey shining light as I go. 

Attending conferences, meetings online and in person.

I want to raise funding. My pockets are not deep. 

Advocating, Raising Awareness.

Encouraging others to seek counsel.

Support their walk with loved ones

Pointing the way to resources I share.

Amazed these words are being seen around the world.

Realizing we share concern for one another.

Grateful to see I am not alone and my words can give hope to others as I continue this journey I feel I've been given for a reason and a purpose.