My Dada and Dementia
Lahore, 16th June: Imagine waking up and finding that your entire world has been turned upside down and lost. That’s how I felt when this whole charade took place. I have always addressed my grandfather as “Dada”, I mean the world to him and he to me.
This is my story, a 12-year-old girl, of seeing my active, friendly and fun-loving grandfather fall into a void of depression and dementia.
Dementia is caused due to damage to brain cells. Dementia means that the person affected will lose all short-term (recent) memories. Slowly as it progresses, the patient will not remember close relations, time, and then finally who they themselves are.
My grandfather has always been a role model for me. He was one of the most well-dressed people I have ever met. When I was younger he’d take me to the park in front of our house or a shop nearby or to his friend’s house who lived across the street from us.
He always woke up early in the morning, prepared tea and during school days would wait to see us off and have breakfast with us. Always he’d be ready early morning, smiling at me and my brother.
One of my fondest memories is when the two of us would sit upon the terrace and we watched the sparrows he fed, fly all around and the flowers on a creeping hedge bloom. He’d tell me to look far into the horizon, look at the green trees surrounding us, telling me stories and giving me life lessons.
He’d play games with us, teach us different balling techniques for cricket and was always very active. Up until a few years ago he even picked us up from school and when he did he would take us to a shop to buy some chocolates or chips or marshmallows. He was always there, the support, the everything. I am his favorite, out of all my cousins, me. And I love it.
A few years back my dada began experiencing memory loss. He had forgotten something said to him about an hour or two ago. This kept on happening and worsening. Every time, the time span of the forgotten things decreased. He refused to go outside, although he had loved walking and sitting outside some time ago.
A year went by and he’d sometimes ask where his mother was, who had long ago passed away. He’d ask where his brothers and sisters were, who had also long ago left the world. Once we answered his question with the truth, that they had died. The pain in his eyes was so immense as if he had just discovered this, that we decided not to tell him that anymore. We’d tell him that they were sleeping in another room or gone shopping or were in another city.
Another year. He stopped going outside altogether. He forgot all his relations, his wife, children everyone. But one name and person he recognized ME. He remembers who I am. He doesn’t know the relationship but he knows my name, who I am and that I am his favorite.
He has no control over himself. A few horrifying times he couldn’t move or do anything. He sat on the ground saying that I am standing up.
Recently, the most terrifying thing happened. His heart rate dropped, his pulse was slow. His oxygen saturation was so low, we had to get him a canister of oxygen. He was on his bed, breathing through a mask. All I wanted to was sit there beside him and cry. My parents took him to the hospital. After a few days, he recovered from this sudden drop. That does not, by all means, mean that he is cured of dementia. This is a disease that no one can cure. Though I deeply wish it could. Unfortunately, it worsened.
I mentioned that he was active, attentive and always dressed up and ready. Now he lies on a couch the entire day, hardly waking up for some food or to use the restroom. He does not shower as he does not have enough energy to stand for long.
Sometimes he thinks he is still a soldier, still fighting, still defending. He says we should go home. This is our home. I’ve lost my entire world in two short, painful years. But he still remembers me and my brother.
The one time I felt that all was lost was when he called one of my cousins by my name. I felt as if that was it. He had forgotten everyone. The pain hit me hard, so hard I actually felt weak.
My grandfather has gone from active and strong to weak. I still love him but I feel that there is a part of him missing. A part of his I will never get back. I miss him and love him. He makes my home a home.
So, dear reader, if you or anyone you know is going through this my heart is with you and so are my prayers.
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