The Game of Treasure Hunt at My House

Early onset dementia here, translated…

Since my mother, who’s not yet sixty was diagnosed with an early onset of dementia, our household was, turned, upside down.  We’d always felt, that my mother had been very unfocused, would not pay enough attention to what we were saying to her, and asked us the same questions over, and over, and over again a lot, and, it’d made us, her family members, who’d explained the matter to her again and again, confused.  But when we realized that my mother was acting like this because she’s ill, the tensed up atmosphere at the house switched to a more relaxed feel, with tolerance now; toward this condition that can’t be treated, we can only, learn to adjust our minds in the various situations, and slowly, coming to acceptance, of my mother’s change.

The situations we come across from day to day are varied in sizes, from the total number of times my mother needed to take out the trash, to forgetting how long it’s been since she’d last washed her hair, to even, not knowing how many meals she’d had a day.  All of these, small, miniscule matters had, added a ton of chaos to our life.  We’d felt bad about my mother’s deterioration, and we’d all understood, that we needed to, learn to cope with her condition with humor, that it would help us, as well as, mom more.

picture from the papers…

Recently, we’d started playing the game of “treasure hunt” at home.  In order to get my mother to have an established routine, we’d allowed her to handle the matters that we see no danger, for instance, folding up the laundry.  At first, we’d not noticed any problems, but, slowly, the clothes in all our drawers are, reduced by the numbers.  We’d originally thought, that it was, how long it took, the washed clothes to dry outside, but when the supplies of our underwear were reduced greatly by the numbers, we’d all become, treasure hunters, and started, finding our separate clothes all around the house.

There are, mostly girls at the house, and, we’d often traded our underwear, this, sounded, reasonable, but in actuality, all our sizes are quite different, and, we’d had our separate tastes in what we wear too; so, when I take out the middle-aged women’s underwear from my closets, those crows started to, circle over my head uncontrollably, and my older sister would often, bring by my clothes back to my room, to trade.

One day, I’d realized, that my yoga pants were missing, and, used the ratios to deduct, I’d walked from my sister’s room, all the way, into my mom’s closets, nothing, and so, I’d, gone through the laundry baskets in the house, tracked down that line, all the way, to the lanai, to seek out any possibly location that my yoga pants may get replaced in.  And, in the very end, I’d discovered, my pink yoga pants, hung, in the midst of my father’s dark-colored dress pants, like a wildflower, growing from a field of brown, I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry about it.

Slippers are, among one of the items that turned up missing too, the slippers we’d placed by our bedside, our outside the door would often, gone missing, and, we couldn’t, grill my mother, the primary suspect, and so, we can only, check the pair she was wearing at the time, if the time of the incident was just a short while ago, then, we’d usually, find our slippers quickly.  But, if the time passed too much, then, there are, multiple abandon sites, the lanai, the front door, the bathrooms are all, possible second “scenes of the crime”; and, even if we managed to, track down ALL of our separate slippers, the mission was still, not yet over, because my mother’s slippers still hadn’t returned back to her yet.  We’d had to, put the shoes, back, with their rightful owners, then, the game of finding the missing shoes would end.

Although, we’d gone through, many battles in this treasure hunt, we’d not necessarily find everything that’s gone missing, and now, there are, still, a ton of items on my list of missing items; I’d, wrecked my brains, searched every corner of our house, still, no signs of them.  Thanks to my mother’s “magical touch”, adding to the difficulty level of this game we’re currently, engaged in.

In dealing with an illness such as dementia, there would be, inconveniences of life, if we can’t get past the fact, that inconveniences are, a part of our lives, then, we will never be able to provide the patient with a warm environment to live in.  as my mother’s closest loved ones, we’d slowly replaced the blames with the humors instead, I mean, it’s, already happened, just, humor ourselves a bit then!  And now, when things turned up missing, we’d all hollered to one another, “Game’s on!”, and, this game would start up again at our house.

This would be, how the family adapted, to the mother’s dementia, because, there are, a ton of things that can happen that are, unexpected, and, if you don’t use your sense of humor, then, it would NOT only be hard on you, but also, it would, hurt the ones you loved, so, this family had, adapted very well, the members of the family were able to, adjust their mindsets, to look at the constant mishaps that their mother are causing, with a light heart.