It blows into your life like an autumn breeze
...you suddenly notice it
you don't want it
or need it
you certainly didn't ask for it
and like Autumn
it comes heralding change
it doesn't ring ahead and let you know it's coming
authorities don't warn you about it's presence in your area
there are no adverts in newspapers
warnings on television
daily ministerial updates
you can't wear a mask to prevent 'catching' it
or have a jab
or get boosted
and staying 2 meters apart won't prevent it - it just turns up!
then when it does
...you can't take a pill
or put a plaster over it
or rest it for awhile
or rub it better!
it creeps up on you like old age itself
you can't immediately see it
but it's there in the eyes of your loved one
you realize they are drifting away
you realize they know nothing of it
as they look right through you
a life-time is erased
all memories deleted
...it's a car crash - in slow motion!
it's no respecter of age
sex
gender
race
it's not even the privilege of the very old
look into their frightened eyes
their stumbling actions
their blank looks
their inability to keep up with conversations
all the madness within this madness
...you see they're drifting away
decaying
disconnecting with the world around them
eventually you have to search for them
all those things you had together - gone
and one day you'll find yourself thinking;
"it's me - why don't you recognize me?"
then the questions start...
"Have I got it,
is my forgetfulness - my forgetting what I went into the kitchen for - dementia?
my not recognizing someone I meet in the street?
I'm of that age - do I have it?"
and what of the effects on everyone else
the extended family
the dependants
partners - all notice the plodding decline
the slow departure
the imperceptible crumble to an inevitable end
all the stresses and strains it brings
the accepting the inevitable respite time
the heavy sense of failure that brings
the pain felt
all that professional help
the need for 24 hour support
the sense of loss
the sense of hurt
and the giant hole that's left when the end finally comes
"could I not have done more?"
...a hole that cannot be filled
but a hole that needs to be filled to cure the blight
that is
...dementia
(I dedicate this poem to my Mum, Dorothy who died in her early 50's from Altzheimers over 20 years ago)
