A slightly flattering image of the Bard, methinks!
a quote from "All the World's a Stage...."
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Since dementia came to live with us, I have thought often of these lines, learnt but not understood, whilst at school. But the old chap was quite right, especially when you consider the last two lines - he could well be describing this blight that is upon the 21st century, when so many other ailments can be cured in the developed world.
The anomalies that dementia brings are enough to confound the cleverest of us. This thing called 'Hosting' - it sounds so friendly and social. But what it really means is the the PWD ( Person With Dementia) can, for some short time, appear to be normal and without problem. It is really confounding for the carer.
Someone calls by the house for a cuppa, or even supper, and the PWD acts perfectly normally. The visitor goes away, thinking that the household is functioning perfectly well and there is not much to be fussed about with this 'dementia' - it's just a few lost memories.....
Meanwhile...the PWD has gone into complete meltdown, unable to sustain the 'hosting' mode, is exhausted, unintelligible, incomprehensible. The carer, if there is one, is frustrated and upset, and wonders why the PWD can't 'behave' themselves all the time.....
Or 'hosting' mode when seeing the consultant, doctor, social worker - equal annoyance to the carer, who sometimes thinks it is them that has it all wrong, and could even be imagining that there is something amiss with their loved one.
Anasgosnia - I think that is correct, sounds more like a Russian socialite from the days of the Czar - but in reality is this really awful side of dementia. It means that the PWD actually, genuinely, really, thinks there is absolutely nothing wrong with them. This means, in their head, they have no need to go to the Day Centre where all the old people sing and dance and so on, because they 'are not like that.' It means they will not go for respite care because they ' are not like those old people.' It means that PWD simply cannot understand why he has lost his driving license - that he has had for 55 years, because ' I haven't got dementia at all.'
It means more ducking and diving for the unfortunate carer who has to smooth over all these brick bats, trying not to upset PWD, but no matter how many hours are spent trying to explain, the carer knows, that by the time PWD has walked into the next room he has forgotten all about it.....
All the world is a stage, and we all have our parts to play, but this is one tragedy I would rather not take part in.
Spike Milligan - what about him...? The words of a song....
"I'm walking backwards for Christmas,
Across the Irish Sea,
I'm walking backwards for Christmas,
It's the only thing for me...."
and one wonders, is every person with dementia walking backwards towards something long gone?
