Dementia Support Quotes

And while a bald head and a looped ribbon were seen as badges of courage and hope, her reluctant vocabulary and vanishing memories advertised mental instability and impending insanity. Those with cancer could expect to be supported by their community. Alice expected to be an outcast.

Static cackled from the cafeteria speaker. A bored female voice come on. “Victoria Brennan, please report to the headmaster's office. Victoria Brennan to the headmaster's office.” Classmates glanced our way. Whispers sprang up around me. “Not good.” Shelton was reaching for his earlobe. “Tell them you have amnesia,” Hi said. “Or dementia. Pretend you're Joan of Arc.” “Thanks for the support, guys. If I'm not back for class, look for my body in the harbor.” Hiram's hand flew up. “I call her iTunes collection. Shelton can have the mutt.” “Nice.

While no one can change the outcome of dementia or Alzheimer's, with the right support you can change the journey.

I am a wife, mother, and friend, and soon to be grandmother, I still feel, understand, and am worthy of the love and joy in those relationships. I am still an active participant in society. My brain no longer works well, but I use my ears for unconditional listening, my shoulders for crying on, and my arms for hugging others with dementia. Through an early stage support group...by talking to you today, I am helping others with dementia live better with dementia. I am not someone dying. I am someone living with Alzheimer's. I want to do that as well as I possibly can.

Many caregivers share that they often feel alone, isolated, and unappreciated. Mindfulness can offer renewed hope for finding support and value for your role as a caregiver…It is an approach that everyone can use. It can help slow you down some so you can make the best possible decisions for your care recipient. It also helps bring more balance and ease while navigating the caregiving journey.

Wandering has long been seen as part of the pathology of dementia. Doctors, carers, and relatives often try to stop patients from venturing out alone, out of concern they will injure themselves, or won’t remember the way back. When a person without dementia goes for a walk, it is called going for a stroll, getting some fresh air, or exercising, anthropologist Maggie Graham observes in her recent paper. When a person with dementia goes for a walk beyond prescribed parameters, it is typically called wandering, exit-seeking, or elopement. Yet wandering may not be so much a part of the disease as a therapeutic response to it. Even though dementia and Alzheimer’s in particular can cause severe disorientation, Graham says the desire to walk should be desire to be alive and to grow, as opposed to as a product of disease and deterioration. Many in the care profession share her view. The Alzheimer’s Society, the UK’s biggest dementia supportive research charity, considers wandering an unhelpful description, because it suggests aimlessness, whereas the walking often has a purpose. The charity lists several possible reasons why a person might feel compelled to move. They may be continuing the habit of a lifetime; they may be bored, restless, or agitated; they may be searching for a place or a person from their past that they believe to be close by; or maybe they started with a goal in mind, forgot about it, and just kept going. It is also possible that they are walking to stay alive. Sat in a chair in a room they don’t recognise, with a past they can’t access, it can be a struggle to know who they are. But when they move they are once again wayfinders, engaging in one of the oldest human endeavours, and anything is possible.

As the Harvard Gazette summarized in 2017: Close relationships, more than money or fame, are what keep people happy throughout their lives. . . . Those ties protect people from life’s discontents, help to delay mental and physical decline, and are better predictors of long and happy lives than social class, IQ, or even genes. That finding proved true across the board among both the Harvard men and the inner-city participants.[7] Men who’d had warm childhood relationships with their parents earned more as adults than men whose parent-child bonds were more strained. They were also happier and less likely to suffer dementia in old age. People with strong marriages suffered less physical pain and emotional distress over the course of their lives. Individuals’ close friendships were more accurate predictors of healthy aging than their cholesterol levels. Social support and connections to a community helped insulate people against disease and depression. Meanwhile, loneliness and disconnection, in some cases, were fatal.

Imagine being able to tweak your gut microbial profile to help you effortlessly lose weight, terminate type 2 diabetes, reduce your risk for depression, dementia, and cancer, and support skin health. Similarly, imagine shifting the skin’s microbial characteristics to thwart acne outbreaks, block UV rays and prevent skin cancer, deflect mosquitoes (indeed, new research shows that the microbes on our skin affect whether or not we are bitten), and usher in that coveted healthy glow. That’s the promise that this exciting field of medicine has to offer. Time to get ready for it.

I believe that when a loved one has dementia, you experience many layers of grief. The first wave of grief comes with the diagnosis. The realisation that the person who has supported you all your life, will no longer be able to do so, no matter how hard they try. Grief the first time they struggle to remember your name or your relationship to each other. Grief when you have to accept that you can no longer keep them at home. Grief as they lose the ability to communicate, as another piece of the jigsaw is lost. Grief every time they are afraid, agitated or confused. So much grief you don't think you can cope with anymore. And then the overwhelming tidal wave of grief when they pass, when you would give anything to go back to the first wave of grief.

The losses caused by dementia aren’t as clear as a loss by death. When someone dies, we know when it happened. We know how it happened. We take part in certain rituals to mark the event. Our sorrow is understood by others who offer condolences and support. Those things don’t happen with the slow but inevitable losses of dementia. What we experience is called ambiguous loss. Ambiguous loss and the subsequent grief can come from two scenarios. Either someone is physically absent but emotionally present or they’re physically present but emotionally absent. They’re here, but they aren’t here.

Is Alzheimer’s a Vascular Disorder? In 1901, a woman named Auguste was taken to an insane asylum in Frankfurt, Germany, by her husband. She was described as a delusional, forgetful, disoriented woman who “could not carry out her homemaking duties.”66 She was seen by a Dr. Alzheimer and was to become the subject of the case that made Alzheimer a household name. On autopsy, Alzheimer described the plaques and tangles in her brain that would go on to characterize the disease. But lost in the excitement of discovering a new disease, a clue may have been overlooked. He wrote, “Die größeren Hirngefäße sind arteriosklerotisch verändert,” which translates to “The larger cerebral vessels show arteriosclerotic change.” He was describing the hardening of arteries inside his patient’s brain.67 We generally think of atherosclerosis as a condition of the heart, but it’s been described as “an omnipresent pathology that involves virtually the entire human organism.”68 You have blood vessels in every one of your organs, including your brain. The concept of “cardiogenic dementia,” first proposed in the 1970s, suggested that because the aging brain is highly sensitive to a lack of oxygen, lack of adequate blood flow may lead to cognitive decline.69 Today, we have a substantial body of evidence strongly associating atherosclerotic arteries with Alzheimer’s disease.70 Autopsies have shown repeatedly that Alzheimer’s patients tend to have significantly more atherosclerotic plaque buildup and narrowing of the arteries within the brain.71,72,73 Normal resting cerebral blood flow—the amount of blood circulating to the brain—is typically about a quart per minute. Starting in adulthood, people appear to naturally lose about half a percent of blood flow per year. By age sixty-five, this circulating capacity could be down by as much as 20 percent.74 While such a drop alone may not be sufficient to impair brain function, it can put you close to the edge. The clogging of the arteries inside, and leading to, the brain with cholesterol-filled plaque can drastically reduce the amount of blood—and therefore oxygen—your brain receives. Supporting this theory, autopsies have demonstrated that Alzheimer’s patients had particularly significant arterial blockage in the arteries leading to the memory centers of their brains.75 In light of such findings, some experts have even suggested that Alzheimer’s be reclassified as a vascular disorder.76

Medicine and society have entered into a folie a deaux regarding medicine's importance in gigantic population ills. We believe that genetics and pills and enzymes bring us health. We wait for the dementia cure (the obesity cure, the diabetes cure) rather than changing our society to decrease incidence and severity. We slash social welfare programs and access to GPs and ignore the downstream effect this will have on future generations. To reduce non-communicable disease, the actions we need to take are societal: make it easier for people to move and eat well, strengthen education, promote community participation and meaningful work. Our collective delusion is that we can have all the benefits such a society would bring without the structural supports necessary to bring it into being, that we can attain health by inventing and buying drugs. It is hard to know which is the more utopian vision: magic pills or a society serious about prevention.

Estradiol—Estradiol is the strongest estrogen; it helps you think clearly. It is produced in the ovaries and has many protective effects, including maintaining bone density, improving growth hormone production and cardiovascular function, keeping your blood from getting “sticky,” supporting cognitive function and mood, assisting in growth hormone release, and improving your lipids profile. Too much estradiol can be associated with estrogen-related cancers, but deficiencies can lead to osteoporosis, heart disease, dementia, and other diseases of aging. Estradiol keeps you looking and feeling young and vibrant. It also provides antiaging protection for the skin. And it even helps prevent weight gain. Researchers at Yale University have found that estradiol suppresses appetite using the same pathways in the brain as leptin, which is one of the hormones that regulate appetite.

The essence of deep and profound suffering, as articulated through the lens of individuals grappling with akathisia, reveals a universal truth about human resilience and the quest for meaning amidst adversity. Suffering, in its most unbearable forms, strips away the superficial layers of our existence, confronting us with the rawest facets of our being. It is in this crucible of despair that the depth of human strength is truly tested, and paradoxically, where the seeds of hope are sown. Throughout history, philosophers, poets, and survivors of great hardship have all echoed a similar sentiment: there is a profound transformation that occurs in the heart of suffering. It is not merely an ordeal to be endured but a powerful catalyst for growth and self-discovery. The pain that once seemed to diminish us eventually serves to expand our empathy, deepen our understanding of life's fragility, and enhance our appreciation for moments of joy and connection. In the narrative of overcoming akathisia, the raw and relentless nature of such suffering becomes a testament to the indomitable human spirit. This condition, characterized by an inner restlessness that can torment the mind and body, becomes a battleground upon which the battle for mental and emotional freedom is fought. The victory, hard-won, lies not in eradicating the condition but in mastering the art of resilience, in discovering that hope is not obliterated by despair but made more precious by it. To conclude, deep and profound suffering is an unyielding force, capable of either crushing the human spirit or refining it into something stronger and more beautiful. The choice of which direction we turn depends largely on our ability to find meaning in our pain, to reach out for support, and to believe in the possibility of regeneration. Like the phoenix rising from its ashes, individuals who traverse the dark night of the soul can emerge transformed, bearing the scars of their battles as badges of honor. These experiences whisper to us of the extraordinary resilience that resides within, urging us to keep moving forward, even when every step seems impossible. The power of the human spirit to transcend suffering reminds us that even in our darkest moments, there is always a path leading towards the light.

My name is Mary, an Occupational Therapist here in Austin, TX. I’ve been working as an OT for over 9 years, and I decided to create my own OT consulting company here in Texas. Over these past 9 years, I’ve worked in nearly every OT setting and my passion has always been helping those with dementia, along with providing caregiver help & support.

I have seen a husband adapt honestly and courageously while his wife descended into terminal dementia. He made the necessary adjustments, step by step. He accepted help when he needed it. He refused to deny her sad deterioration and in that manner adapted gracefully to it. I saw the family of that same woman come together in a supporting and sustaining manner as she lay dying, and gain newfound connections with each other—brother, sisters, grandchildren and father—as partial but genuine compensation for their loss. I have seen my teenage daughter live through the destruction of her hip and her ankle and survive two years of continual, intense pain and emerge with her spirit intact. I watched her younger brother voluntarily and without resentment sacrifice many opportunities for friendship and social engagement to stand by her and us while she suffered. With love, encouragement, and character intact, a human being can be resilient beyond imagining. What cannot be borne, however, is the absolute ruin produced by tragedy and deception.

Stage 7: Very severe cognitive decline (severe or late-stage Alzheimer’s disease) In the final stage of this disease, individuals lose the ability to respond to their environment, to carry on a conversation, and, eventually, to control their movements. They may still say words or phrases. At this stage, individuals need help with much of their daily personal care, including eating or using the toilet. They may also lose the ability to smile, to sit without support, and to hold their heads up. Reflexes become abnormal. Muscles grow rigid. Swallowing is impaired.

They don't want to see me lose my home. They want me to come to my senses before it's too late. I need a better way to cope with my feelings of loss and guilt. I need bereavement therapy. Here are some names. I should think about medication. Here's what worked for them. There are books. There are websites. There are support groups. Healing won't come from withdrawing into a fantasy world, isolating myself, spending all my time with a dog. There is such a thing as pathological grief. There is the magical thinking of pathological grief, which is a kind of dementia. Which in their collective opinion is what I have.

Supporters of U.S. English argued that foreign languages are like flotation devices, preventing immigrants from entering American waters unassisted. In reality, they buoy not only the prospects of their speakers—scientists have found that bilinguals enjoy a number of advantages, among them enhanced cognitive skills and lower rates of dementia—but also the ideals of the nation.

Feeling all alone in your caregiving journey? See LBDA.COM now to find a support group near you. We can help each other.