A story of change

By Aileen Hay

Living in the countryside, far from other people, I often have a good old scream or shout; the sheep look up in bewilderment.

However, when it comes to write down my “disease” on paper it just about eludes me – here we go…

A few years ago I was sitting my final exam for my English Literature degree, desperately trying to remember the facts, viciously dragging my thoughts to the fore of my mind, thoughts that just didn’t exist.

Nothing was flowing as it had years before. NOTHING….

Just as at home trying to spell simple words such as “Biscuit”, came “biscucit”, “biscuit”, and so it went on and on, but I was determined not to use a dictionary, until at last I succeeded.

I knew something was not right, a visit to the doctor entertained various diagnosis until he finally sent me to see a Psychiatrist, then for a SPECT scan.

Passed on again to a Psychologist, and week after week undertook a number of tests.

Finally the results, although I couldn’t be told everything until the consultant had seen the final assessment.

Anyway, I had an intuition of what might be going on.

It was a shock to my family and close friends, but no one was to be dismal I told them.

I have care staff and come to the Grange where I have many kind friends.

A year later I went though more tests.

The results this time showed my processing speed, perceptual reasoning and working memory were decreasing along with concentration levels.

I cried.

The consultation discussed the option of medication to try to slow down these effects but he had to be careful as I already took medication for Epilepsy.

Unfortunately the side effects of the tablet were too aggressive and I had to stop taking it, which I found devastating.

Nearly twenty years ago I was involved in a serious car accident which left me with PTSD leading to clinical depression.

I learnt then to adapt….

Dwelling on life being pointless and useless will speed up the disease and trying to accept ignorant people’s ideas and values really hurts.

Along with incredible fatigue, forgetting what I am asked to do or what I am told.

Now I cannot read a full book so I read short stories instead.

I do not feel as clever, academic as I was.

It is like slipping down a rope that is hard to hang on too.

Unfortunately role reversal happens, and my daughter who I live with, has made it seem more like she is the mother and I am the child.

The best bits are, I did finish my degree and felt a million dollars at the graduating ceremony.

Although I may never take any more exams, I am still learning new skills such as pottery.

I have the most beautiful granddaughter, Zoe and very treasured pets. 

This is not the next phase of life I would have chose, “pre-Senile Alzheimer”, maybe it’s time for another good old shout….