For those concerned about dementia and caregiving in India

The poor state of dementia awareness and caregiver support in India continues to alarm me, but I also fear that many persons who can improve things are not doing so because they think that the required actions will be taken by others at some grand, country-wide level, often by the government or major NGOs.

I think that is wishful thinking and not dependable.

Choosing to make one area a national priority means choosing to pay less importance to some other area. Realistically speaking, not everything can be a priority. In a country like India, struggling with multiple basic problems in areas like health, education, law and order, infrastructure, etcetera, I have no basis to expect that dementia will be made a “national priority”. Surely child mortality, primary health care, basic sanitation, farmer support, poverty eradication, reducing school drop outs, and many, many basic causes are already contending for, and deserve more national attention, funds, and priority.

I keep encountering persons who expect the government to solve the problems faced by dementia caregivers. They expect the government to ensure hospital care and better diagnosis, set up multiple respite cares and day cares and memory clinics, have special wards in hospitals, etc. Alas, it’s not going to happen in a hurry. Dementia activists may talk themselves hoarse labelling dementia as an “epidemic” but I’m sure activists in other domains–domains like AIDS, cancer, diabetes, heart problems, child prostitution, malnutrition, and so many others–have their own catchy phrases which are as alarming or more. They, too, have compelling and visible statistics to support the use of such phrases–and often have more persuasive pictures, case studies, and statistics than what dementia experts can churn out.

In my opinion, it may be reasonable to expect and lobby for some basics that facilitate dementia diagnosis and care, like including dementia-related criteria in guidelines/ checklists for senior citizen related services/ homes, including dementia in curriculums of professions like medicine, nursing, adding dementia in illnesses for which concessions are available, subsidizing adult diapers.

But it seems unrealistic to expect the government to set up special, well-equipped day care and respite care centres for dementia when girl students are dropping out of school because schools have no basic safety or even toilets. And someone even suggested to me that the Government should set up “dementia villages” of the sort shown in these articles: Inside an Amazing Village and Wikipedia entry on Hogewey. Well, I can’t even begin to explain how unrealistic and unfair that expectation is…

So to me, this means that for anything beyond broad directives/ policies related to dementia, we have to depend on NGOs and on what we, as individuals and corporates can do. And we need to acknowledge that the number of persons willing to do work is very low, and therefore being effective and focused in our efforts becomes very important. My contention remains that the root to improvement is awareness. Ideally, I’d have liked some large, funded and committed organization to work on a well-designed awareness campaign, but I don’t want to succumb to the temptation of abdicating responsibility and waiting for the “they” to do this. Let’s all do our bit anyway. Maybe things will pick up.

Another thing that worries me is the danger of expending effort in areas that are not yet relevant in India.

The problem is that some of us, even those who know ground realities, get very attracted by discussions in esoteric circles of dementia activists from developed countries. We forget how much foundational work needs to be done in India before we can afford lofty dreams. We forget that, in India, we have yet to establish a foundational understanding of dementia, and our overall quality of life and social support and welfare schemes is not good. How can we justify aiming for a quality of life of dementia-affected families that is grander than what is normally found around us?

Sure, concepts like “dementia villages” and “dementia-friendly communities” are progressive, the “in” thing, and provide a more satisfying area of work compared to mundane problems like drafting caregiver material and making it available in multiple Indian languages. But can already-scarce experts afford to spend time and effort on serious and detailed discussions on such advanced topics when we have not yet discussed how to ensure that doctors know how to diagnose dementia?

Persons discussing futuristic and currently-inapplicable-in-India concepts often point out that the discussions will also result in more awareness and after some initial discussions, they will adapt the concepts for India and their work will include awareness type of basic areas. My concern is that most initiatives lose steam and run out of funds very soon. We therefore cannot squander initial momentum on discussions that will not result in improvements to those suffering from the pathetic state of affairs.

From what I have seen, this digression into currently-irrelevant concepts is a consequence of three factors:

  • Volunteers/ experts are often part of a vibrant world-wide community that discusses advanced applications and ideal situations with impressive and inspiring quality-of-life criteria, and hence these volunteers/ experts get drawn into professionally enriching dialogs and heart-warming concepts
  • They don’t pause to think that taking up one project of this sort also means not being able to take up some other project they could have done instead, and
  • They do not have sufficient, day-to-day contact with actual caregivers and patients and therefore are not personally inconvenienced by the ground-realities. They don’t, at an inner, emotional level, appreciate the day-to-day struggles of families coping with dementia. This distance means they do not experience an urgency to tackle the most pressing and immediately relevant aspects first.

Awareness is so poor that there is no way to tap the bulk of actual, hands-on caregivers. Besides, caregivers come in various stripes; the ones who most need help are not visible, not tapped, not participating in most dialogues. Patients who need the most help are the ones locked up in houses because of social stigma, or who remain undiagnosed or are labelled as crazy and shunned. So where are their voices, their concerns, their perspectives on what they need most and fastest? Where can we find persons diagnosed early enough to have insight into their dementia who may share their realities so that we can know what “friendliness” means to someone who actually has dementia? Don’t their opinions matter?

Yet I am not sure that locating persons with dementia and their hands-on family caregivers, and then listening to them, is considered as something to do before deciding what needs to be done first. I’m not even sure it gets due importance while actually working on grander projects.

Here’s what I feel: we need to get real about the situation in India if we want changes to benefit persons who need help.

We need to accept what we can expect from the government. We also need to accept that many things are pointless and unfair to expect. We need to honestly acknowledge the real status of families touched by dementia, across all economic and social status, across all geographical locations–not just upper middle class English-speaking families living in larger cities in some states.

Furthermore, we need to set aside expectations driven by international conventions and not let our priorities get warped.

Let me get this right: I am not saying there is anything intrinsically wrong about working on advanced concepts. I am saying, when resources are so scarce, then anything we pick up has an opportunity cost: something else that those resources (experts, time, corporate funds and goodwill) could have been used for remains undone. That is why we have to be careful in what we choose. If we had more volunteers, more experts and abundant resources we could have taken on projects of all sorts–both for providing basic dementia support, and for discussing advanced concepts that are not currently usable. But we have a severe shortage of people and resources in the dementia domain. We don’t have the foundation for advanced and ambitious projects like a “dementia-friendly community.”

Let’s at least reach a state when, if a family approaches a doctor, odds are that they get appropriate guidance. Or when a patient is taken to an emergency room, staff understands how unnerving this all must be to someone with dementia and knows how to be considerate. Let’s make information available in Indian languages. The list of such basics is a long one.

There’s another aspect: each contribution can help.

With so much that needs to be done, surely each concerned person can find some way to contribute? Especially as we know that there is no “they” who will wave a magic wand. Even as individuals, we can help others and add to the overall betterment of the dementia care environment. For example, we can help a caregiver by running some errands or providing a respite. We can talk more openly about dementia and improve awareness, making dementia and its care challenges visible. We can generally be more proactive and participative when sharing information and ideas. And maybe some of us have the time and energy to take up larger projects, work more visibly, share thoughts and ideas and aim for making a bigger difference.

So if you are concerned about dementia and caregiving in India, please think of what you can do for people whose lives have been, or may be touched by dementia. They will have a smoother ride because of your actions. And it’s not as if you are safe from dementia in the future; your life may be touched by it again. Actions you take today based on your concern could even help you in the future.

Related post: I had shared my thoughts on the importance of dementia awareness earlier, here: Need for well-designed dementia awareness campaigns

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Caring for someone with dementia

In November last year, a friend asked me to write a 700 word article on dementia caregiving for a souvenir. Though I’ve written extensively about dementia and related caregiving, the imposed word-limit forced me to weigh each sentence, each word. What should I include? What to exclude? While I didn’t manage to say all I wanted, I realized that a one-pager overview of a vast topic can be a relief after the rambling posts I typically make on this blog. So here’s the article, unchanged (I confess that I was sorely tempted to expand it, but I desisted 🙂 ). Note that the article was written assuming very poor dementia awareness, as the intended readers were based in India.


Caring for someone with dementia

by Swapna Kishore

Family members, friends, and colleagues often want to support persons with dementia, but are unsure how to proceed. Below is a brief overview of dementia caregiving.

The first step is to understand the difficulties dementia patients face.

Most people don’t appreciate how much dementia affects the patient because they think it is normal for elders to have reduced brain functionality and memory loss. They think dementia problems are similar to the way most elders misplace keys or get slower at calculations.

The fact is, because of the cognitive decline in dementia, patients find it difficult to do even normal, simple activities. Amma skips lunch because she doesn’t remember how to heat the meal her daughter left for her. Grandfather gets cheated of his lifetime savings because he no longer understands financial transactions. Papa gets lost because he can’t remember where he lives. Grandmother has no idea how to open the bathroom tap. But family members assume such behaviour is laziness or carelessness because they don’t realise these problems are caused by dementia. When Amma withdraws, they say she is ‘giving up’ and any frustration or agitation is considered meanness.

However, once people understand how dementia affects the patient, they can find ways to help the patients.

Realistic expectations are essential for effective caregiving.

Families often hope treatment will make patients recover completely from dementia, and do not understand the limitations of medicines. They also think that if patients try harder, they will become normal.

Such unrealistic expectations create problems.

For example, family members insist that patients should remember things correctly and work faster. They ‘correct’ mistakes, criticise, get angry, or show disappointment. This confuses and distresses patients who are facing genuine problems and already trying their best. They become slower or may get agitated, which, in turn, upsets family members even more. This unhappy circle ends only when families accept the dementia reality and adjust their care approach based on realistic expectations.

Caregivers can look for ways to improve patient safety and fulfilment.

Once caregivers appreciate the realities of dementia, they are able to find suitable caregiving approaches.

Consider problems of communicating with the patient. Dementia patients may forget where they are and not even recognise family members. They get distracted easily. If caregivers understand these problems, they’ll know that typical communication tips can help: face the patient while talking, use eye-to-eye contact, use simple words and short sentences, speak clearly and calmly, and avoid complicated questions. If names confuse patients, point out objects. These and other suggestions can vastly improve communication.

Or consider ways to change the home. Signs pointing to the bathroom can help confused patients. Patients may feel safer walking around if clutter and hanging wires are removed. Grab bars may help. Suitable home adaptations make it easier for patients to do their tasks.

Better dementia understanding can also explain sudden changes, like the patient becoming inactive one day. If caregivers know that patients often can’t explain when they are unwell, they may notice the patient’s fever or sprained ankle.

Basically, patient behaviour provides clues that can be used to find solutions.

For dementia patients, every day is full of difficult tasks, and a predictable daily routine reduces stress. But like everyone, they like fun and want to feel useful. Caregivers who add suitable games and simple chores to the patient’s daily routine often find that patients are more cheerful and willing to do things.

Care has to be person-centric

Though there are similarities across patients, dementia affects individuals differently in terms of type and severity of damage in the brain, and how this worsens over time. Care must be adjusted according to the patient’s changing abilities, personality, past history, health, likes and dislikes, skills, interests, family, social environment, etc.

Dementia care involves heavy responsibility and hard work. Also, it is heart-breaking to see someone decline. Caregivers get exhausted, make mistakes, and may feel guilty, resentful, or depressed. Yet they do experience joy, especially when focusing on what patients can still do. Those fulfilling moments give caregivers the energy to do the work and accept the inevitable decline.


If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Voluntary body donation: some thoughts in response to queries I get

These last few days I’ve been updating my FAQ page on body/ brain/ organ donation and I thought it’s perhaps time to also share my thoughts and observations based on the my conversations with prospective donors.

One thing I notice repeatedly is a significant communication gap between the person who wants to donate his/ her body and the family members who will actually have to do the required donation and sign the consent forms.

One example of a gap is when the prospective donor does not want the family to decide how to dispose the body after death. These donors believe that if they have signed up for donor programs, family members will be obliged to respect their wishes. Some such donors even consider a donation enrolment as equivalent of a “will.” Alas, they are mistaken. There is no legal obligation on the family members to donate a body just because the donor wanted this to be done. The next-of-kin decide how the body may be disposed; they select the way (cremation, burial, donation) and rituals depending on what they want (unless the death is “unnatural”, which then involves police and autopsies and stuff).

A couple of persons I talked to were not even on talking terms with immediate family members. They would not inform them of their travel plans or health problems or anything else, and had not told them about their desire to donate their bodies. They were so sure that their intention to donate was good enough to ensure donation happens that they hadn’t paused to think that it was this alienated family that would handle their body disposal after they died. The dead person does not exist any more, and cannot dispose off his own body.

Some donors tell the family what they want, but the family is not convinced. The topic is not discussed much, because everyone is uncomfortable talking about it. Even if the immediate family is almost convinced, the topic is not broached with the larger familial or social circle. Donors don’t realize that this is likely to result in a failure to donate, because once they die, their immediate family members will face social pressure and pressure from relatives, and may find it easier to just opt for traditional modes of body disposal.

One amazing thing I noticed is that in many families, the elderly person is keen to donate, but faces a lot of protest from the children, even children who are scientists and doctors and who theoretically accept that body donation is good. These children cannot imagine Appa or Amma’s body being donated; they see it as disrespect (students cutting a body of a loved one) or hurtful (imagine taking out the eyes), but have no problem with seeing the body being buried or being burned on a pyre. This emotional barrier to donation makes discussion difficult. In some cases, the prospective donors persist till family members come around and agree that they will donate. In other instances, when the children get emotional and agitated, the parents stop talking about the donation.

I recently attended a function organized by one hospital for its registered voluntary body donors. The hall was full of elderly persons who had signed up as donors, but I saw hardly any middle-aged children who would probably have to coordinate/ perform the actual donation. I wondered why these elders were not accompanied by the children if the commitment to donate was a family commitment. It was a Sunday, so attending should not have been a problem. Were these elders living away from their children (empty nests are common now), or were the children not involved enough to come along, or did the elders not even inform them about the function? Wouldn’t this affect the probability of the donation actually happening?

Another thing I have noticed when talking to many prospective donors is that they (and their families) have not spent much time figuring out the nitty-gritties that have to be done to actually donate the body. They remain unclear about who has to be contacted after death, how to get the required certificate from the doctor in time, etc. It’s a morbid topic, sure. Somehow they assume (or hope?) that getting a donor card means the donation will be easy to do and don’t figure out the procedure to be followed as soon as the death occurs (or as soon as the family realizes the person is dead). The confusion and distress that kicks in when someone dies is not factored into the planning. Most donors and their families assume that the hospitals or doctors will guide the family through the donation process when the time comes. They don’t realize that body donation is so rare that most doctors don’t have much experience in it and will not be able to help. It was realization of such information gaps that had led me to create the FAQ page last year (this is the page I have now updated to improve clarity).

Thinking about and planning for body donation takes effort and commitment, because in our current setting, it is far simpler to use the conventional modes of cremation or burial. So a prospective donor’s efforts cannot stop after registering as a donor. Much needs to be done to make sure that this intention converts into an actual donation after death occurs. This includes ensuring that family members are convinced about the donation, and so are persons in the relatives/ social circles. Family members will need to act promptly after the death to coordinate the body donation, which means they need to be very conversant with the procedure and also have the required information readily accessible. Their commitment to actually donate the body must be reinforced periodically, so that it is not forgotten when the need arises. And additionally, planning may require steps like involving the family doctor and securing their commitment, and so on.

Oh, and my updated FAQ page is here: FAQ on Organ/ Body/ Brain/ Eye Donation. It is rather long, but hopefully it covers all areas where people need information. Do let me know if you have any suggestions.

P.S.: In the post above, the discussion on post-death procedures is in the context of normal death (cardiac death). For the other form of death, brain death, the person is already under the care of the team of doctors who declare the person brain dead and will guide the family through the process of organ donation. In brain death cases, organs can be donated if the family is comfortable donating organs of a person who is still on some sort of life support; the procedure is not the challenge as the person is already being tended to in a hospital that is equipped for accepting organs for transplant.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Need for well-designed dementia awareness campaigns

I am convinced that increasing the level of dementia awareness is essential to improve the quality of life of persons with dementia and their families and caregivers, and I’ve often blogged about this. I also mentioned this in my caregiver story that I wrote for the Alzheimer’s Disease International’s March 2014 newsletter, titled “Better dementia awareness will make a difference” (available on page 8 of this downloadable PDF file). I have also been discussing possible priorities with some volunteers. I think it is time to write a somewhat more structured blog entry on the importance of well-designed dementia awareness campaigns. (Though structured, this is an opinion piece, not some expert evaluation/ study report)

Dementia awareness is pathetic in India, a situation confounded further by misinformation and stigma related to the symptoms and to words like dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease. This results in multiple problems for affected persons, and my contention is that spreading dementia awareness is the key to improving the situation, and the fastest way to change things in the Indian society. For the purpose of this discussion, I look at the following broad areas:

Benefits of increased awareness

Awareness of dementia is a foundational requirement for any work in supporting persons with dementia and their caregivers. For example, without sufficiently correct and widespread awareness of dementia, you cannot create a dementia friendly society. Yet several benefits of higher levels of awareness are not obvious. Here’s a list of some salient benefits:

  • Early diagnosis and better medical support will be possible: With higher awareness levels, a person’s symptoms will be recognized as possible signs of dementia earlier by the persons suffering from them and/ or others who interact with this person. Persons with dementia may seek help earlier, and so may their families. Physicians and specialists may go through the diagnosis process (instead of dismissing concerns as old age or personality changes, etc.). Diagnosis may happen at the early stage itself, and a suitable mix of advice and medical support can improve the quality of life of the person.
  • Societal support for families coping with dementia will increase: An overall societal acceptance/ understanding of the realities of dementia will make it easier for families to explain their specific situation and ask for help. An open, stigma-free recognition of dementia will mean that persons with dementia and their caregivers can ask for and receive appropriate help and support from persons around them, such as from friends, relatives, colleagues, etc. Persons around a family coping with dementia will be more understanding and supportive, and not mock at the person’s symptoms or suspect the caregivers’ motives/ actions.
  • Dementia and care situations, experiences and tips will become part of normal public conversations: With dementia and care challenges out in the public discourse, dementia will increasingly be incorporated in various arts and productions. More movies, stories, etc., will include dementia situations. When some people start opening up about their personal experiences of dementia, others will, too. Experiences and tips will be shared, creating a supportive community. This will be very different from the current scenario where each family goes through its own learning curve in isolation and gets overwhelmed.
  • Dementia and care topics may become part of educational systems. So students may be better educated on this, thus adding to overall societal awareness levels.
  • Dementia related professions and careers may become viable/ attractive options: Persons considering career options may want to work in dementia research, or in offering dementia services.
  • Entrepreneurs may be attracted to set up ventures: When entrepreneurs realize the growing need for dementia-related products and services, they may invest in them. This can further be facilitated if nodal bodies also create guidelines and standard project reports for potential services that such entrepreneurs can use as starting points.
  • Corporates may include dementia projects in CSR initiatives: When a cause becomes prominent, it can attract the attention of corporate CSRs and other such entities, who may then take the awareness campaign forward some more steps by actively working for it. Or they may design products and services or sponsor research or help conduct studies, such as epidemiological studies, or fund the research required for preparing reports, and so on. They may even decide to adopt a city/ town/ locality and make it dementia friendly!
  • Misinformation can be removed by the availability of abundant, authentic information: Currently, many myths and misinformation campaigns exist around dementia, including misleading “miracle” products and services that make tall claims about what they can achieve. These are able to thrive because genuine information is not available. Good levels of dementia awareness will squash such misinformation/ exploitation.
  • Overall willingness of persons to participate in the dementia cause will increase: This may be in terms of willingness to take part in clinical trials and other studies, do volunteer work, etc.

Essentially, as dementia awareness grows, the advantage is not just the increased quality of life and support for persons with dementia and their families. There is a high likelihood of a multiplier effect as more and more persons get drawn into the cause and participate as advocates, volunteers, professionals, product/ service providers, and so on. Often when thinking of how awareness can help, volunteers do not give enough weight to the way awareness can snowball to create a movement. Yet awareness is not just the foundation required for more work on dementia and caregiving; awareness is also the motivator that can make some persons concerned and involved enough.

In my opinion, awareness has the potential to create a transformative movement to address this serious area.

Awareness campaigns are an effective use of limited resources

Let’s face it; we just don’t have enough funds and persons to do all that needs to be done for the dementia cause. Therefore, we must use these limited resources available for the dementia cause by choosing projects carefully, after duly evaluating the trade-offs. For example, if we focus on and spend effort on creating a “dementia village” or a superb respite care, or making one city meet the criteria of a “dementia friendly community”, that may mean that we have to drop some other project.

Given this need to choose what is the best use of resources, I favour giving priority to spreading dementia awareness through a region/ state/ even entire India using well-designed campaigns, as compared to taking up projects that aspire for far better dementia support in some localized pocket. Reasons:

  • Whatever initiative is chosen, dementia awareness is a foundation, and everyone involved in that initiative will anyway need very good levels of sensitization to dementia realities and also skills for supporting dementia. So an awareness campaign is anyway an integral part of any project. Running such a campaign in a well-designed, effective way is therefore unavoidable; the only aspect to debate is on the scope of such a campaign–should it be just one city/ facility, or a state/ region/ nation? Scalability may be a factor worth examining.
  • We have no justifiable basis for deciding that only a particular city should benefit from the deployment of common resources. The estimated persons with dementia in India in 2010 were 37 lakh (3.7 million), and if we think of the family members and close associates trying to support dementia, the number of affected persons is even higher. This number is increasing every day. To focus scarce resources on just one city means ignoring other cities, other states, other regions. Focusing on big or medium cities ignores smaller cities, villages, tribal areas, and so on. How can such selective focus be justified? Surely any nodal body approach needs to embrace diverse populations first.
  • The number of persons who may benefit from a local, focused effort is very low. A local effort may benefit dementia-affected persons in a local populace. On the other hand, the number of persons who may benefit from widespread awareness campaigns is much higher. Awareness campaigns can reach distant corners and a wide range of persons in ways that focused-location efforts cannot. They are more inclusive.
  • Awareness is an effective approach when resources are scarce, because when awareness increases, there is a multiplier effect and more people are drawn to the cause. More people get concerned and may take initiative and pick up the skills that will further improve the situation. Awareness can create a far more widespread self-sustaining model of citizen involvement than a localized effort may.
  • Some types of focused initiatives don’t create any advocates at all. One contender for time/ effort of volunteers is setting up services like respite care. A lot of investment goes into setting up a good facility that may benefit a few people, maybe 10 or 20, maybe somewhat more. Yet once the person with dementia passes on, the families do not necessarily contribute back their time and effort to the cause. They may not become advocates either; most of them have used this service because they were overwhelmed and later, they “move on.” While we definitely need respite cares, we have to appreciate that these cannot replace the priority we need to give awareness campaigns.

So yes, we need models of good dementia care, we need centres of excellence, etc. Focused efforts for ideal respite care, ideal dementia friendly city, and so on, can create nodal points that demonstrate and disseminate best practices. But again, we have to weigh the resources required and see the trade-offs.

My contention is that the potential gratification of creating a small but visible centre of excellence should not overshadow the broader and more inclusive benefits possible by spreading awareness. We may need solid work for such awareness campaigns, but we must not forget that a well-designed awareness campaign can create a paradigm shift.

Sustained, well-designed campaigns should be used to make a lasting difference

We have already got some sporadic efforts to increase dementia awareness. These typically include:

  • Efforts by persons who talk about their dementia-related experiences at an individual level in private circles: This is not very common in India as most caregivers do not talk of their experiences at all, or only talk to close friends. While important and good when it happens, it is much, much below the levels when it could make a transformative difference in either visibility or information. Also, as many caregivers have remained overwhelmed and less-informed through their dementia care journey, what they share is often more focused on problems faced and may lack any effective tips/ suggestions or reliable understanding of dementia.
  • Efforts by volunteers/ concerned persons/ caregiver alumnus who are informed and articulate: Unfortunately, such dissemination is very local in scope, and again, not sustained and intense enough to be transformative beyond the immediate circles. Also, persons working on spreading awareness like this often have other projects, too, and the awareness aspect does not get their ongoing, uninterrupted attention and does not pick up momentum or coverage.
  • Efforts put in across the nation for the few days corresponding to World Alzheimer’s Day or some such event: For a few days a year, dementia gets some space in newspapers and some visibility as “walks” and “talks” because there is an event that triggers it. Even in this, newspaper reports, often written in a hurry, contain inaccuracies. Coverage remains shallow, and not informative enough, but yes, for a few days, there seems a chance that awareness is being worked on. Then the event passes, and the momentum fizzles out. Worse, initiatives that were announced or facilities that were inaugurated may fall to the side.

I see several non-optimal aspects in this current awareness-spreading scenario:

  • All these efforts are too sporadic and scattered to add together and create the momentum we need.
  • Many events/ talks organized can only reach local persons and will only be noticed by persons already somewhat aware of dementia. Persons who know nothing about dementia (or feel it does not concern them) are not targeted sufficiently
  • There is no centralized database that volunteers can draw upon for material that can help (like slides in various languages, videos, etc.), so individuals trying to spread awareness essentially duplicate quite a bit of effort. Also, some information they disseminate is loosely worded or even incorrect, adding to misinformation. There is no validation of the quality of information spread by volunteers.
  • There is no framework wherein individuals can contribute smaller packets of effort towards the awareness campaigns. So many persons who may have spoken up (if they had the encouragement and a framework to fit into) do nothing.
  • There is no check on mistakes made in media reports, which sometimes, written in a hurry and eager to be captivating, end up making mistakes. No corrections are printed.

In my opinion, the current efforts to spread awareness fall woefully short to what we in India need as a nation likely to face increasing numbers of dementia cases.

I am not aware of (and I’d be happy to be corrected) any sustained, well-designed, nation-wide campaign for spreading dementia awareness. Let me, however, describe what I think can be useful.

  • The campaign should be designed for the diversities seen in Indian culture, including regional cultures in multiple Indian languages
  • The campaign design should be made suitable for low-literacy/ illiterate audiences, possibly by exploiting audio and video media, TV, plays, etc.
  • The content included should address dementia symptoms and progression, practical examples of impact of dementia on the life of the person and family, and general tips on how to interact with the person and empower them. The content should not in any way imply that Alzheimer’s is the only cause of dementia, or that memory loss is the only/ main symptoms, or that it happens only to old persons.
  • The campaign presentation should be easy to understand and remember and make dementia more immediate to the target audience. It should convey that dementia can happen to anyone, and also that anyone can be thrust into the role of a caregiver. The presentation should not be alarmist/ negative in its portrayal.
  • The campaign should make it clear that caregiving is tough and exhausting, and is well beyond the normal tensions of supporting mentally alert elders. It should make it clear that caregivers need support, not criticism.
  • The campaign can be powerful and effective by suitably integrating relevant social psychology concepts. It should be well-designed, and be carried out on a sustained basis. The message/ concepts will not stick in the minds of the audience in the first instance; the messages need to be repeated in various ways.
  • The campaign should negate myths and misinformation. It could use society role model/ celebrity interviews or other such means to remove stigma or negativity or secrecy attached to dementia. It should also remove any stigma/ societal judgment related to caregivers feeling overwhelmed or stressed.
  • Supplementation of campaigns with authentic information available in multiple Indian languages.
  • Supplementation of campaigns with information centres/ helplines that provide more information and clarifications.

Of course, this is far from enough when it comes to what the dementia cause needs. We need more products and services. We need support systems. We need financial support. Yet I feel that awareness is how one can kick-start the process, because once more people understand that dementia can happen to anyone, that anyone can be a caregiver, that current medication cannot prevent or cure, more people will be concerned. They will put pressure on the government for resources. They may volunteer. They may set up services. So much needs to be done that we need every helping hand. We cannot get the momentum and energy we need for the cause if we don’t improve awareness. Without more awareness, we will just continue to have a handful of persons, working for an ever-growing population of families coping with dementia.

Do share your comments below. I look forward to reading what you have to say (you can post anonymously if you wish)

Edited to add: If you are concerned about dementia/ care in India and are a volunteer/ potential volunteer/ just want to know more, please do check out this page: Resources: If you want to help caregivers/ spread dementia awareness. This page includes links to several discussions on areas that individuals (or groups/ corporates) can consider for contributing their own bit for this cause. There are also several resources/ documents that can be viewed/ downloaded in this section.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

A personal update: two years after my mother’s death

It is two years since my mother’s death; I guess it is time for a personal update.

When, for years, I was immersed in caregiving, I’d not considered what would happen after my mother’s death–on how I would feel, and how I would adjust to the loss and my changed role and situation. I hadn’t expected the process to be so slow and fraught with confusion. Over these last two years, I have gone through various phases of emotional upheaval and readjustment. The process of adjustment continues.

Two years later, my mother is still a presence in my mind every day. Even if I am not actively thinking of her, I have a faint, dull awareness of her, a sort of feeling something’s missing in my life, a feeling that has taken me time to get used to, but which I accept.

I end up thinking more specifically about her quite often, too. I remember things she did for me, or arguments we had, or things we shared, and it has an air of reminiscence, gentle, sometimes amusing or heart-warming, sometimes mildly sad. These memories are reasonably matter-of-fact, and while not always easy, they seem a part of my past and my personality like many other things.

But sometimes I get yanked into memories that plunge me into a sharp sense of loss. It’s like a sore spot touched suddenly, a spot a splinter lies buried under, unknown to me. The emotion leaves me gasping, exhausted. It takes an effort to emerge from, spanning for several minutes, even hours, and often, though I know the feeling will subside, I still have to ride the wave and cannot rush the pace at which it subsides. These emotional plunges, though declining in intensity and duration, occur often enough for me to dread them.

I am aware now of the sort of events that trigger these disorienting episodes.

Meeting my mother’s peer group, for example, still reminds me of my loss and of the loss she suffered because of her dementia. Sure, life deals out different fates to different people, everyone has problems and setbacks, and even if she hadn’t got dementia, other problems would have happened. Yet I need several deep breaths to compose myself again.

The major trigger for such plunges is related to my continued work for dementia caregivers.

A significant part of my work involves maintaining my online resources for dementia caregivers in India (I have websites/ videos at Dementia Care Notes , Dementia Hindi, youtube videos on dementia and caregiving, and caregiving-related personal interviews). For this work, I keep myself up-to-date with recent discussions and studies on dementia care and also stay on the lookout for India-specific services and facilities. Many caregivers and other concerned persons contact me through my sites or this blog, and I try to share my experiences and ideas with them. During all this work, I am actively thinking of dementia and how it impacts the person and families, and naturally, this is emotionally and mentally tied with my experiences as both caregiver and volunteer.

For most part, while doing such volunteer work, I have sufficient insight and distance to productively use what I have experienced and studied. But sometimes a sentence/ factoid I read or an incident someone relates connects me a hurtful memory or emotion inside me and disturbs me with an unexpected intensity. Some days ago, I was talking to another caregiver alumnus who tries to help other caregivers and spread awareness by sharing personal caregiving anecdotes, and she told me that she experiences similar plunges and pain.

Here’s the thing: caregiver conversations are needed. It is only by openly talking about such things that we can spread awareness and improve the situation for persons with dementia and their carers. For the large part, at least in India, dementia is untalked about and invisible, and caregiver stories remain unspoken and unheard. Dementia awareness remains poor, misinformation remains rampant, and support systems remain non-existent. The number of people who need help is growing faster than sporadic attempts to add support services. This overall status saddens me on some days, and frustrates and angers me on others. It makes me want to withdraw on some days, while on other days, it energizes me to do what I can. I know that sharing my caregiving experiences can be helpful to others — my mother’s death does not mean that my caregiver experiences have become irrelevant — and I wish I were not hampered by hurtful memories.

I continue to search for the optimal level of involvement in dementia care, hoping to find a level where I am effective and productive, and also safe from burnout or depression. It would definitely be easier to do what I want to do if my mother’s memories were by-and-large peaceful, benignly swinging between my experiencing a gentle nostalgia and sensing her supportive and affectionate presence. It seems, though, that time heals rather slowly, and part of the delay is because I continue work in this domain (thus extending and reinforcing my identification with a caregiver identity and related experiences and memories).

When I was a caregiver, my work was determined by factors beyond my control and I knew an end would come. But in volunteer work, I have to set the pace and take the decisions.

Regarding other fronts: I continue to extend myself, experiment, and redefine my understanding of what I want to do with respect to non-dementia-related areas. This adds to some variety and enrichment (and fatigue 🙂 ) I have already realized that travel and sightseeing are pleasurable to me only in small doses. For most part, I prefer simple long walks or curling up with my Kindle. I have resumed professional writing but not yet attempted any ambitious creative writing that requires a larger mental canvas; this will have to wait till I become better at juggling time.

I’ve shared on this blog that I find it difficult to resume a social life, given that I am, anyway, an introvert. In the past few months, I’ve attempted some degree of socializing. I’ve peeped out of my shell and started saying hello, and risking mistakes on this front.

I could say I’m progressing one smile at a time 🙂

And I have been learning some new topics.

I’ve always been a curious person. For the last several months, I’ve been enrolling in free online courses (MOOCs) on a diverse range of topics. I felt like this kid let loose in a candy store, and I sort of overdid it, completing around 20 courses in nine months, and peeking in and attending parts of many more. I enjoyed the concentration and rigor some of the courses required, but yeah, the courses do require time and energy and I am whittling down the courses to a less obsessed level.

So yes, this is where I am two years down the line after my mother passed on: taking moderate steps of venturing out into the unknown, trying to find a sane place between integrating and drawing upon memories of my mother while not getting sucked into them. Looking for peace. Looking for balance. Still figuring out how to pace my dementia care support work so that I can sustain it without draining myself. I suspect this is not too different in essence from folks around me, because everyone has to do some such balancing act, for whatever situations and challenges life throws to them.

And BTW, I have not been posting as regularly to this blog as I used to earlier; this blog already has over 200 entries, and while I have many ideas for new blog entries, actual writing may be sporadic as I balance other work/ commitments, including ongoing dementia care work. You can always contact me if you want.

My online dementia resources (in addition to this blog)

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Creating Dementia Friendly Communities: some thoughts

I first heard of “dementia-friendly community” because of the work of Norman McNamara (more popularly known as Norm Mac, or just Norm). Norm was diagnosed with dementia some years ago and has, in addition with coping with his dementia problems, worked tirelessly to spread awareness of dementia and to make sure that inputs from persons with dementia are heard and valued by policy makers and others working in the field of dementia. He has also been working to make Torbay, UK, a dementia-friendly community.

It seems obvious (once one pauses to think of it) that persons with dementia must be treated as major stakeholders in decisions and actions that will impact them. The best way to support persons with dementia is to ensure that the community around them is dementia aware, friendly, safe, and empowering so that they can live as normal and fulfilling a life as possible. But creating dementia-friendly communities requires work on multiple fronts, and implementation has been low. The U.K. is in the forefront of this work, with some other countries getting more active recently.

In August 2013, Alzheimer’s Society released a very interesting report, that can be downloaded: Building dementia-friendly communities: A priority for everyone. This defines a dementia-friendly community as follows:

A dementia-friendly community is one in which people with dementia are empowered to have high aspirations and feel confident, knowing they can contribute and participate in activities that are meaningful to them.

This report provides data from surveys of persons with dementia, describing their experience of living with dementia and the difficulties they face. It suggests actions that can help create a dementia-friendly community. Information is also available on their website here. There are many websites where concerned organizations discuss related concepts and provide data from surveys and on projects they have undertaken, for example Creating Dementia Friendly Communities (Ireland)

From what I understand, the concept of dementia-friendly communities is still evolving, and definitions, interpretations and approaches vary from culture to culture. The concept fascinates me, and I’ve been thinking about it and how it would work in the culture and setting I am most familiar with, namely, India.

I think one essential component of a dementia-friendly community is having enough awareness and support to ensure early diagnosis so that the environment and support around the persons can be tuned to help them remain independent and retain their quality of life in spite of cognitive decline. The systems and people they interact with should be dementia aware. There should be no stigma attached to a dementia diagnosis. People should know how to interact with someone who may be disadvantaged sometimes because of dementia.

Creating a dementia-friendly environment is likely to require redesigning various services and facilities so that persons with dementia can avail them without facing problems. This is not just for medical services, but for all activities persons may engage in, whether it be dining out or shopping or interacting with tax officials or using public transport or walking in a park. For persons living independently, we need products and services so that they can continue to live independently and enjoy a good quality of life while also remaining safe.

And, of course, a dementia-friendly community also has to be friendly and supportive to the caregivers helping the person with dementia.

The wide-sweeping levels of understanding required to create a dementia-friendly community makes my mind boggle. I’ve been trying to imagine this sort of scenario in India, where awareness is so low and stigma so high that most patients are unable to have a life outside their homes because of the comments and criticism they or their families face. Typically, systems are so unfriendly that the spaces outside home are rendered inaccessible to persons who have dementia. In our country, where even caregivers hide, how often do policy makers and organizations seek the opinion of persons with dementia to understand their experience and needs? Even diagnosis is uncommon in early stages.

I’ve often found our community having large numbers of dementia-deniers, dementia-criticisers, or dementia-indifferent. The move to make a community dementia-friendly seems a major transformation; I’d be happy enough if the community around us becomes sufficiently dementia-aware. Awareness of dementia and its impact (and removal of stigma) are, to my mind, foundational elements and achieving this would itself create major improvements. We would have earlier diagnosis. Caregivers and patients would be more willing to speak up about their situation and problems, and seek assistance and support. The process of change would start.

It is interesting to note in this context that some pilot work on dementia-friendly communities has been done in India. The ARDSI National Office took up the challenge of making Cochin a dementia-friendly city, and their project won the first ADI MetLife award for the best dementia education project.

Babu Varghese of the ARDSI National Office shared information on this project at ARDSICON2013 (18th National Conference of Alzheimer’s and Related Disorders of India) in Guwahati, November 2013, where he talked of what they did and the way forward, hoping that such projects will be undertaken in more cities. Below are some slides from his presentation (reproduced with his permission):

slide showing awareness project objectivesslide showing awareness project components
slide showing strategy to build dementia friendly communitiesslide showing outcome of the dementia friendly project activities

(To view larger images of the slides, click on a slide to open the image a new window)

I’m sure anyone whose life has been touched by dementia would like to see our community become more dementia aware, more friendly, and more supportive. But major changes like this need ideas and contributions from across the board. The slides above may get us started on generating more ideas on activities to undertake and concerns to address. Let’s share them.

Another important aspect is how to create dementia-friendly environments faster. Time, effort, and resources are limited, and we need to use them effectively. Some actions affect the persons we educate/ train/ help–such actions are helpful and productive, and desirable. But some actions are more effective because they have a multiplier effect; these are actions where the persons we educate/ sensitise/ train go on to become advocates in their own right, thus helping us spread the message more rapidly. Given the massive levels of ignorance and the sheer amount of work required to overcome them, we may be best served if we focus our initial efforts on areas that help us spread awareness much more rapidly, pulling in more and more people into the cause.

Please do share any ideas or concerns as comments below (remember, you can share your thoughts anonymously if you prefer).

Edited to add: If you are concerned about dementia/ care in India and are a volunteer/ potential volunteer/ just want to know more, please do check out this page: Resources: If you want to help caregivers/ spread dementia awareness. This page includes links to several discussions on areas that individuals (or groups/ corporates) can consider for contributing their own bit for this cause. There are also several resources/ documents that can be viewed/ downloaded in this section.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Dementia caregivers: some thoughts

Some months ago, I found myself wondering about how the term dementia caregivers is often used for the entire range of experiences and needs of caregivers trying to support persons with dementia. We have caregiver manuals, caregiver trainings, and many other resources aimed at this entity: dementia caregiver. But are all persons helping dementia patients called dementia caregivers? Are their situations and needs similar enough for the same caregiver training to benefit them all? What are the pros and cons of this label?

I’ve met a range of persons who consider themselves dementia caregivers. Some are busy with caregiving chores 36 hours a day. Some are more like supervisors for a team of hired attendants and support staff, managing the care and handling the responsibility, but not doing much of the hands-on work. Some are family members of the patient, living in the same house but not participating in the care unless there is a crisis (care is handled by a primary caregiver, and these persons are secondary caregivers). Some are long-distance caregivers living in a different city, but they make daily phone calls to talk to the person with dementia or the live-in sibling caregivers. There are male caregivers and female caregivers, caregivers who are teenagers, middle-aged, or elderly. And so on. The range of type of care and responsibility across “dementia caregivers” is wide. I’ve even met persons whose relative is living in a respite care, and they make weekly or fortnightly trips to meet them for a few hours, and they, too, consider themselves caregivers.

On the other hand, I’ve also met persons who are supporting someone with dementia for some hours a day or even full-time, but dislike the word “caregiver.” They see themselves as “family” and find the caregiver label insulting.

I’m sure there are formal definitions of the word caregiver, though perhaps not as formal or easy to apply as the word “engineer” or “doctor” or as relationships like “son” or “sister”. But persons who consider themselves caregivers don’t know or apply these formal definitions. Typically, they are close to someone with dementia, and they feel their actions and decisions affect this person, and so they consider themselves caregivers.

How important, then, is it for persons involved in the care of a person with dementia to consider themselves “caregivers”? Does it matter at all?

The way I see it, persons involved in the care of someone with dementia can handle this role and responsibility better if they have:

  • A good understanding of dementia and the way it impacts the person
  • Knowledge of various caregiving tools and techniques, such as ways to communicate, to help the person, to handle challenging behaviour, to make home empowering and safe for the person, and so on
  • A supportive environment with sufficient dementia awareness and also enough facilities and services

Regardless of whether a person supporting a dementia patient identifies with the “caregiver” label, this person can handle caregiving more easily and effectively with the help of the three things listed above. Using the “caregiver” label helps because it may help us seek knowledge and skills and services designed for caregivers. It gives an identity and enables approached others in similar situations and getting company and support. When persons providing care think of themselves as supportive family members, they may reject any tools or advice carrying the “caregiver” label and not see them as beneficial. For example, they may assume that all they need to help the patient is love and consideration, and ignore the benefit of communication techniques and tips to assist in daily activities. They may not appreciate that communicating with someone who has dementia may be different (compared to how we communicate with cognitively alert elders). They may not avail the pool of knowledge and tips that other caregivers have gathered.

One problem in my opinion is that most caregiver material is prepared for some generic caregiver, and usually does not discuss how to selectively use the material given the profile/ situation of the caregiver. For example, the needs of a youth caregiver looking after an elder with dementia would be different from that of an elderly spouse of a person with dementia. Caregivers have to sift through a caregiver manual to see what is applicable for them, and they may dismiss all advice because the first few pages they read look totally irrelevant. Also, volunteers who are supporting caregivers have to tune their advice rather than just assume the general advice will fit everyone.

Caregiver advice is definitely not a “one size fits all” and material designed for caregivers cannot be directly applicable for all caregiving situations.

In November 2013, I had the opportunity to speak at the 18th National Conference of the Alzheimer’s and Related Society of India (ARDSI), held in Guwahati (Assam) in November, 2013. The topic was “Who are we: Introducing the caregivers”, and I discussed some of the aspects I mention above. I’ve uploaded my presentation to slideshare.net and included it below. (You can also view it directly on slideshare.net at this link)

I’d like to add that caregiver material must also be tuned to the culture and country. This topic is so big that it deserves its own blog post. We know that care environments and challenges would be very different in a village in Madhya Pradesh compared to, say, a suburb of London. We need material that is easy to adjust and apply in our settings. We need material that understands our way of life, and our culture and society. Examples and case studies should be relevant for us. We need material in our Indian languages, and often this is not just a matter of translation, but of rewriting. But as I said, this is a topic by itself…and one I have written about before and will probably write about again.

Meanwhile, do feel free to share your comments below (remember, you can share your thoughts anonymously if you prefer)

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Dementia day care centres: criteria caregivers use to avail such facilities

I’ve often bemoaned the fact that we have very few dementia-specific facilities in India, but it’s probably time to write about the flip side of the problem: that some dementia day care centres remain underutilized and volunteers from such centres say they don’t understand why families hesitate to use day care facilities.

Before I continue, in case you are unsure what a dementia day care facility in India may be like, here are some interviews I did a couple of years ago (the information may be different for other centres and may have changed even for the centre these interviews refer to): Care in a dementia day care centre: a social worker explains and Taking dementia patients for outings: a volunteer shares his experience.

I’m writing this post to gather input from caregivers in India about their thoughts on using dementia day care centre facilities for the persons they are caring for. My questions: What criteria have you used/ could you use to decide whether or not to use a dementia day care centre? What are the pros and cons as you see them? How would you evaluate a centre, or its suitability for the person you look after? Would the location matter? Would transport matter? What sort of facilities do you expect in the facility? What sort of things there would make you so uncomfortable that you won’t think of using it? how would you decide whether the facility would suit the person with dementia? What sort of payment would seem reasonable to you? Are there other factors (like comments by family/ neighbors, etc.) that may affect your decision?

And, at a more basic level, do you think a dementia day care centre can add any value to you and/ or the person with dementia who you care for?

(Of course, if you have used a day care and have comments on what helped and what didn’t, that would be great to know, too)

I must admit here that I did not use a day care facility for my mother; my decision was based on my mother’s needs and personality and not so much related to the facility I evaluated. On the other hand, I know families that have been very happy using day care centres. I also know families that withdrew the person after a while, for various reasons. I’ll probably write more about these in a later post; right now, I would like to gather more information from other caregivers on their opinions and thoughts about day care facilities.

We need to share thoughts and data on this because we want dementia-specific facilities. If we want day care centres, but existing centres are not good enough, our data may help improve existing services or set up more suitable ones. And even if the services we want are different (like respite care or caregiver training or supply of trained attendants), we must remember that if entrepreneurs get discouraged by the response to their day care centre, they may decide against offering other services which we want.

Looking forward to your comments (Remember, you can post anonymously. You can also write directly to me).

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Information, creativity, fictional imperatives, hope: Considerations while using movies to understand dementia

Last month, I had the opportunity to hear the renowned filmmaker, Jahnu Barua, talk about his film, Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara, a Hindi movie where Anupam Kher plays the role of a person showing dementia symptoms. (Jahnu Barua Wikipedia profile and his website). This talk was on the occasion of ARDSICON 2013, the 18th National Conference of Alzheimer’s and Related Disorders Society of India (ARDSI), held in Guwahati in November 2013.

In an earlier blog post I had commented on this film and said that I found the film to be an excellent depiction of dementia and its impact on the family, but also expressed discomfort about the final scenes and their implication. I was, therefore, very curious to hear Jahnu Baruah’s talk on his approach to the topic.

Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara is the story of a retired person (played by Anupam Kher) who starts behaving very strangely. He believes he has killed Gandhi and is currently imprisoned because of that crime, and shows a range of emotions like aggression, paranoia, withdrawal, wandering, while also failing to recognize family members. The distraught family consults a doctor and gets a diagnosis of dementia/ pseudodementia. The movie ends by showing a creative solution where Kher undergoes a trial in a rigged-up courtroom scenario to help him get rid of his obsession that he killed Gandhi, supposedly a major trigger for his situation. The solution is shown to work. This aspect (of such a solution being tried and its working so dramatically) had left me very uncomfortable, as I was unaware of any research or experimentation that supports possible efficacy of such solutions.

During his talk, Jahnu Baruah talked about how he got the idea for the film (he wrote the original screenplay and he directed the film). He shared some episodes where he unwittingly interacted with persons with dementia, including one who thought he was a murderer. Intrigued, he began learning about dementia and its impact on the person and family, and met many persons in this context. He did extensive research. As he then started thinking of a movie where the protagonist has dementia, and he decided to add a dramatic solution at the end. Some excerpts of what he said (yes, I took notes):

…I extended it with my wishful thinking that such cases have to be cured. Something, at least, to minimise the pain, and then I thought of creating something, a drama…

…whether it can happen, I don’t know, but it is only my wishful thinking and I always feel there should be a way.

Jahnu Barua also shared how, after the film, someone asked him, “Do you think it is possible?” (referring to the impact of the courtroom drama on the dementia symptoms). Jahnu Barua told us that he had answered: “I’m just a film maker, not a doctor, this is just my wishful thinking.” He had a positive feeling about the film he had made, and “whether it can be done or not, that is another aspect.” As I, too, had wondered about the movie’s end but hadn’t thought of trying to contact the movie’s director, I guess I was plain lucky to hear Jahnu Barua’s clarification, 🙂

In this context, I am reminded also of another excellent movie, Thanmathra (Malayalam, my detailed comments on it available here). This movie depicted early onset dementia, and is often quoted as a very instructive movie on dementia by doctors in Kerala. However, some doctors were unhappy at some aspects of the way dementia was depicted. The director, Blessy, responded to those comments in an interview, saying: This is not a documentary, so I am allowed to take certain liberties. (full interview here)

So true. We need to repeatedly remind ourselves that movies and stories are fiction, not documentaries. Movies are creative endeavours. They depict the world as envisaged by the script writers and directors, and explore “what if” scenarios.

Again and again I hear people say, we need more movies showing dementia, almost as if we can depend on movies to spread awareness. We forget that viewers of movies don’t know enough to distinguish factual aspects from creative extensions. Movies don’t come with detailed disclaimers and notes.

If we want to spread balanced awareness about various aspects of a condition, we cannot depend solely and undiscriminatingly on fiction. We don’t substitute physics and biology classes by sci-fi movies, do we? Movies may help spread information about some aspects, but not about all aspects. They may be incomplete, non-representative, or misleading if assumed to be gospel truth. To spread awareness of dementia, we need well-made documentaries, recordings of interviews, and documented case studies. We need easy-to-read validated informational booklets. We need celebrities sharing personal struggles. We can also have stories that are specifically designed just for spreading awareness, validated by professionals. And we may need a wide range of such stories because the dementia story is not a single story. Every patient, every family, every situation is different in some aspect, and a range is needed to give a completer picture.

Of course, people will still watch movies and assume that anything depicted in them is correct, even though the film makers do not claim their movie is a medically accurate depiction and very clearly state that they are using the media to express their creative needs. Watching a well-made movie is an emotional experience, and for the three hours we sit entranced, our world is the movie world, our reality the movie reality, and the intensity makes it difficult for us to later remember that part of what we saw is just a fictional extension, a creative exploration…

Because movies showing dementia may be seen as complete, correct, and representative depictions of dementia and care situations, I made an earlier blog post where I gave detailed comments on five Indian movies showing persons with dementia. I described areas where I found the movies reasonable in their depiction of dementia, and also where I felt the movies missed on some elements or could be misleading because of the drama/ fictional elements required by the plot. This post can be seen here (Indian movies depicting dementia: some comments) and includes detailed comments on the following five movies:

Another related post is: Poor awareness and the danger of very few representations.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Dementia: the journey of caring continues

September 2013, the month earmarked as World Alzheimer’s Month with the theme, “A Journey of Caring” has come to a close, but as caregivers know, the journey of caring continues at its 36-hours-a-day pace, day after day, month after month, year after year. As media moves over to other causes, and weary volunteers rest their hoarse throats and tired legs, let’s pause to think how deep and lasting the impact of those awareness drives and calls for supportive policies will prove to be.

Focused efforts to bring dementia and care into the limelight help, of course. Reports like the World Alzheimer’s Report 2013 may nudge some policy makers to pay more importance to dementia. Awareness talks have been held, and maybe some person will get diagnosed earlier because of them, or some relatives and friends will feel more deeply for the persons with dementia and their caregivers and extend support. Newspaper reports include lists of symptoms and names of doctors and organizations, and maybe some persons will now know whom to approach.

How long, though, does the impact of such campaigns last in the public mind? Every day is some sort of World Day, every month is some sort of World Month. Will alertness and awareness continue without sustained effort and momentum?

See, here’s the thing: if we want a paradigm shift in the status of dementia and caregiving in India, more people must understand how dementia impacts the person and the family. This understanding forms the base for any support work. Given that most people are not in cities where walks and talks were held, and that even if they were, they did not attend, all they have is a couple of paragraphs on dementia in a newspaper article once a year. Is that enough to give the public a transformative understanding of dementia (do people even read newspapers so carefully)? Will the benefits percolate enough to change the lives of caregivers? Well…

As a caregiver, I often felt isolated and misunderstood, and as a volunteer who helps other caregivers, I find many fellow dementia caregivers in India feel the same. While some lucky caregivers get a supportive environment, the vast majority do not. Here are examples of what many caregivers say about the people around them (relatives and friends and even volunteers and professionals):

  • These people, they’ve never been caregivers, they just don’t understand
  • All that advice is so impractical. It’s obvious they’ve never done any caregiving
  • I went to a doctor and he didn’t know about dementia
  • I won’t talk to volunteers any more. They just give lectures
  • Why don’t people know more? No one should have to face so much ignorance
  • “They” (“Someone”/ “The Government”) should do something about it. How can we handle all this much work without any support?

Yup, it is true that persons who have never been caregivers cannot grasp how tough caregiving is, how heart-breaking, how tiring. They do not know how isolated and unsupported many of us feel. Two paragraphs in a newspaper once a year don’t give a flash of cosmic insight.

I often chat with caregivers who feel more should be done, and even some caregivers who want to do something themselves. They are currently overwhelmed with their caregiving work, but hope to do something later.

But often other things come in the way “later”, when their care responsibilities are over. Burnout, for example. Depression. The need to move on, the expectations of their friends, relatives, and colleagues that they will put away the “negative” thoughts and “be normal.” Or just the deep sorrow associated with even the word, dementia, the face that pops up in the mind, the memories. Sometimes even crippling guilt, though there is no ground for it after such hard work for so many years. Then they also need to renew their careers and make up for the lost years. And they have to take up roles and responsibilities they had suspended–they have to be a parent, spouse, sibling, child. Resume other volunteer work they had committed to. Do that much-neglected health check-up. And they may hesitate to be seen as a dementia caregiver in a society that acknowledges neither dementia nor the role of caregiving. Family members may discourage, saying, why talk about private things? Can’t you let it alone now? They may lack the energy to work around all this or to contribute anonymously…

Some caregivers share, but often in sporadic ways, localized within safe circles of supportive friends and relatives. Sustained effort is difficult to put in. And seeing that the overall momentum is low, others who may have shared also hesitate to step forward.

As caregivers, most of us have felt that only other caregivers can understand our situation. Yet we also expect that somehow, others will start understanding us, and that some “they” should make this shift in understanding possible. But I wonder, how can we expect others to understand if we don’t talk about it? How can people grasp the challenges of caregiving if they have not experienced it and if caregivers don’t speak up and share their stories?

It’s not easy to stand up and share one’s personal experiences of being a caregiver. I know, I have done it–not just in online blogs but in face-to-face sessions with volunteers and while talking to reporters. I’ve done it again and again, and it has never been easy. I find it very hurtful to talk about some things. Sometimes I face scepticism or criticism, and that hurts. Sometimes listeners say I am “negative” without realizing that I don’t actually want to go back to those memories. A doctor once told me (in a workshop) that I was misleading people by describing the challenges of caregiving because taking care of elders was every family’s duty and people should do it without expecting anything from others. Families should not expect or need support, he told me and the audience. So yes, it hurts to talk openly, to admit to past mistakes and problems and emotional conflicts, but not speaking up seems worse because such silence could mean more caregivers will face the sort of problems I faced. And some people do listen, they ask questions, they try and understand, and that makes it worth it. Awareness grows in small steps…

I think that if more caregivers speak up, we may build the momentum needed to spread awareness. We cannot expect non-caregiver volunteers to fully explain what only we caregivers have experienced. We cannot expect others to understand if we have not opened our hearts and tried to make them understand.

One thing I have learned in these past years: there is no “they” who will set things right. We have to be the “they.” We have to say what it is like to be a caregiver.

September is over, the World Alzheimer’s Month is over. But the journey of caring continues day after day and our efforts to spread awareness must also continue.

Are you a caregiver? Have you ever felt people do not understand what it is like to be a caregiver? Maybe you’ve wished somehow that the situation would change, that non-caregivers would understand you better and know how to support you. Maybe you have wondered if you can do something to improve matters. Please use the comments below to write about what would enable caregivers like you to share your experiences, needs, and problems with non-caregivers. Maybe you can thinking of sharing that could be done in small, private circles of persons close to you. Or maybe you have some ideas on what would enable caregivers to share in public. Maybe you have faced some specific problems that stopped you from talking about your experiences. Please write about it below. You don’t need to give your name to add a comment; use your initials or use a pseudonym, whatever you feel comfortable. The comment form will ask for your email id, but the email id will not be visible to those who see your comment.

I’d love to read what you have to say.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

On work, identity, social interactions, and “moving on”: another personal update

Some days ago, I was asked a question by a well-meaning acquaintance, who was probably not looking for a detailed answer: So, have you resumed your work now? I didn’t really know what to say, but I think I mumbled something that satisfied the conversational need, and we moved on to other topics.

This is not the first instance (nor will it be the last) when people ask questions to gather data for what they consider the basics about the person they are meeting–anchors such as: where are you from or where do you live or what do you do… These questions are social conventions, found in most social interactions, and I often find people get very uncomfortable unless I stick to socially normal answers. Try telling someone that the concept of “where are you from” is possibly not so relevant nowadays, and neither is “where do you live”, and most people squirm or stare or seem to mentally tag you as a basket case.

But let me return to my discomfort with that simple social question: So, have you resumed your work now?. The context was clear. My mother died around eighteen months ago, and for several years before that, I had been reducing my professional work to clear time and energy for caregiving. This person, aware that I was no longer a caregiver, assumed I would have reverted to the “normal” state of existence of doing “work”, given my qualifications and all that baggage.

Here’s the thing: “Work” is used in conversations for work done outside the home in a setting that typically earns us money or can be called a job or business or career, whatever. Point one of discomfort: the question’s implication that years full of intense caregiving were not “work”. I did not get into a dialog about it, recognizing that this person was only using language conventionally and did not mean to offend, but the fact remains that such terminology negates all the work that goes on outside jobs/ careers/ business settings/ offices. We use the term homemakers but we don’t actually consider home-making work to be “real” work. We laud mothers for the effort it takes to transform nasty tykes into (hopefully) polite, productive and educated social assets, but we don’t consider that work. We say, oh, looking after an ill parent is tough, but we don’t consider that work. Those are just activities normal people do for their families. Grouping it with other things called “work” is considered uncultured, against family values, against “love.” Work, someone once told me, is what you do for outsiders.

Of course, some things change over time. Seventeen years ago, a credit card company rejected my application because I said I worked from home and showed the agent my laptop as my office; the agent didn’t even bother to subdue his snigger. He waved away my income tax returns which showed that I was earning enough and I would not be a risk to his bank. Things are somewhat different now, because working from home is more accepted as “work”, but even today, the definition of work is applied only to some types of work and professions. Sure, careers have also changed with time. People no longer frown at the word, “event managers” and accept it the same way (almost?) as engineers. And we accept that paid caregivers are doing “work”, because they are caregiving as part of a job. But the same work, or more, done by a family member is not work. I don’t really know how and when things will change, but I no longer bristle at such negation of what was my major role for years. I explain what caregiving involves to some people and don’t bother to do so for others.

From the query: So, have you resumed your work now? that was my first discomfort–should I point out that I am not quite emerging after an over-long vacation of sitting on a deck chair on a private beach, pina colada in hand, the latest bestseller on my lap. I am emerging from one of the most tense jobs I have ever done, a job recognized medically as one of the most stress-inducing jobs.

But over, now, to that other word, resume.

Years ago, when my mother’s dementia started affecting her more and more, I adjusted my work accordingly, both in quantity and in the profile of work. Some changes happened gradually and automatically, others were conscious decisions, like refusing software projects or assignments that couldn’t be handled over email. because I couldn’t go to meet clients. But it was not as if I flipped a switch and moved from working full-time on serious “work” (let’s call that Point A) to drop into the nothingness of non-work. It was more like I morphed from a relatively conventional work profile into another, not well-defined profile, with some components remaining similar, others changing a lot.

Suppose caregiving had not changed my life direction, where would I have been today, what would I be doing? I have no idea. Maybe I would have stayed at Point A. Maybe I would have moved ahead in the same career, become–I don’t know–better paid, more powerful, more influential, a sort of an A-PLUS. Or I may have slipped down, become more scattered and ineffective, deteriorating to an A-MINUS. Or maybe I’d have switched to something else, a different career path, reaching some Point B, either as a successful person or a failure or sort of middling between them. Many people change directions nowadays, when so many opportunities are available, and changing direction is generally more acceptable. We’re far away from the days when persons joining a job checked for retirement benefits because they expected to stay there all their working life.

What is “resuming your work”? Would “resuming” involve returning full-time to where I was before caregiving came into my life, or in that same career path but somewhat better or worse placed (say an A or A-PLUS or A-MINUS)? Or would it mean snapping magically to the alternate career path at some Point B where I may have been instead? In any case, why should my future be seen in terms of where I was years ago (before caregiving started impacting my choices and path)?

I’m fairly sure that the person who asked the question hadn’t spent so much thought on it–this is such a normal question. We need pegs to categorize persons, and “work” is one of them. Happens all the time in some form or the other. I don’t socialize much, but about a month ago, on a rare outing, I met someone who asked me what I “did.” I said well, this and that, it all depends, I’m rather laidback. She persisted till I finally attached a label to myself; I said I was a writer. She (naturally) asked, Which book have you written? I said I had written some books and some short stories, but she may not have heard of any of them. So then, what else do you do, she asked, her tone insistent. I told her I did some work for dementia caregivers and had set up online resources. But she seemed dissatisfied–perhaps what I had told her was so different from the norm that she was having problems accepting it and adjusting to it. Or perhaps I sounded evasive or my credentials seemed shaky.

A few years ago, such a conversation would have driven me back to a reclusive life or made me very defensive or angry, but this conversation felt so surreal it stirred no strong emotions. Seeing her intense need to make me describe work she could believe in or found worthwhile, I was somewhat bemused. Was it mere discomfort with the unusual? Or did she think I was a loser of sorts and was wondering whether I was even worth socializing with? Maybe her insistence was more about her identity and self-worth than mine. Or maybe she found me fascinating 🙂

But I also felt that this type of conversation could intimidate someone trying to redefine themselves after emerging from a bereavement, or from a role now rendered irrelevant, or from any other intense situation. It could be embarrassing and unpleasant for someone trying to find a new balance, a new direction, after surviving some very tough times.

After major changes happen in our lives and before we can decide on a new direction, we need room to play, time to not fit into any pegholes, time to experiment, make mistakes, change and change again. I don’t think identity-pegging social interactions allow slack for this. I guess many of us find some socially acceptable phrases to deflect the pressure and judgment we may perceive in such questions, however “normal” or well-meant the questions may be. I remember, just a week after my mother’s death, people expected me to know what I wanted to do with my life. To have a plan, a direction. I am sure that if I tell a casual acquaintance that I’m still not sure where I am headed, eighteen months later, I would appear wimpy or lazy or downright irresponsible.

So here’s the deal. Eighteen months have passed since my mother died, and I don’t have a clear, definitive answer to that “What are your plans?” question, not even a clear answer to “What do you do?” Funnily no one asks other questions which I think matter more, questions like “Who are your friends now?” or “How has caregiving changed you?” or “What sort of things interest you?” or, most important, “What areas are you experimenting with?”

I have changed a lot in the last 15 years or so. Yes, everyone changes over time, we change with every day we live, with every choice, every action–but I think my changes have been in a different direction from that of many of my peers, in terms of things I’m now passionate about or interested in, things I no longer find interesting, my perceptions about society changes or inertia, on priorities, and so on. These changes affect the way I interact with others and the interests I can share with them. Maybe some changes are temporary while other changes will stay–only time will tell–but meanwhile, I have to find directions and priorities based on my current self.

In terms of work I do and things I am involved in: I feel very involved and committed to the dementia and care cause. I am doing other things too, some related to the complicated task of simplifying life, some related to non-dementia professional work, some learning of new things, some playing around, but nothing substantial enough for me to use the label “work.” Mostly, I’m struggling to find a balance between all of these.

Regarding my dementia related work, I am trying to arrive at a sustainable pace so that I don’t attempt so much that I burn out and I don’t reduce involvement to a level that makes me feel frustrated and useless. One activity that takes time and energy is maintaining my online resources. I also try to stay informed about the dementia care domain through various sources, and to pour back what I learn as updates to my website. Caregivers continue to contact me, as do some volunteers, and to the extent I can, I share what I know. I had some ideas on additional projects, even prototyped some, but they did not seem sustainable and I dropped them.

As I work through my idea list related to the dementia cause, I’m especially wary about whether a new project I take up would lock up more time and energy in the future. My on-going work on my dementia site has shown me how time-consuming it is to keep online resources up-to-date, and I don’t want to start anything new that would soak up a lot of my time in the future, because I may want that time for other things.

I’m not yet very sure how to balance all the other (non-dementia) activities I want to experiment with, but I have started batching ideas and also cleaned up part of other personal responsibilities, in an attempt to simplify life and create spaces in my days.

Soon I expect I’ll be “normal” enough, that is, I’ll be as overwhelmed as normally-stressed persons who struggle to achieve the elusive work-life balance 🙂

BTW, I’m always amazed at how ambitious people sometimes get on my behalf, how confident they are of all that I should be doing either because it would be good for me or fun for me. And how much they think I can squeeze into my day. Stuff like: You must get back to work. You must write a novel. You must do more work on dementia. You must write a book on caregiving. You must write a memoir. You must travel and meet people. You must enjoy! Ah, if only I were that sort of productive juggler 🙂

One more thing: I still get yanked into memories of my mother at unexpected moments, sometimes very intense. I find it difficult to talk about some episodes of the past or to look at things she owned. But I am coming around to accepting that these surges, these gaps, are part of what is “normal” for me now, and I let the feeling flow till peace comes.

I do wish the day had more hours. I think I’m not alone in that wish.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Let’s share experiences on early symptoms of dementia

It’s been a while since I posted, mainly because I had several ideas and was not able to decide which one to pursue, but I’ve finally picked one idea to give a try, related to a major concern area I have: simple, effective ways to share experiences.

When I talk to caregivers, they often say they’d like to share their experiences, but don’t know how to. I’ve seen some Facebook forums that are excellent mutual support communities, but their contents are not visible to the public. Dedicated bulletin boards, too, are often private. What we also need are ways where caregivers can share publicly, even if they don’t want to reveal their identity.

So I’m trying my idea here to gather your experiences on one topic. If it works, I may repeat this for other topics.

I am inviting you, family members and friends of persons with dementia, to write a comment about some changed behavior shown by a person before he/ she was diagnosed with dementia. Perhaps this was something that made you contact a doctor. Or perhaps the behavior just felt odd, and it was only much later that you wondered whether that had been an early sign of dementia.

Add your comment to this blog post. It won’t take much time. Just describe an incident in a way such that someone reading your comment can picture it. So, instead of saying, “my mother’s behavior changed”, tell us something we can imagine, like: “My mother used to love socializing and also planning the menu for visitors. Then she stopped planning menus. She even began avoiding people. Maybe she had started facing dementia type of problems.”

I know many of you have hesitated sharing in some forums because of privacy concerns. Or you didn’t know an easy way to share. If so, posting a comment below may work for you, because you don’t have to give your real and full name; use a pseudonym or give part of your name or your initials. And your email id will not be visible when your comment goes live. Your privacy is ensured when your comment is visible.

So it’s over to you…

Please remember that every shared experience matters. The few minutes you take may help some other caregiver. It may help someone realize that the behavior they are seeing may need investigation.

Here’s all you need to do: Just scroll down a bit and you’ll find the place where you can leave a reply. Share any personal experience of changed behavior of a loved one before he/ she was diagnosed with dementia–the sort of behavior that, looking back, you think might have been an early warning sign of dementia. (And don’t worry about how well you write and all that, just write whatever comes from your heart 🙂 )

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Indian movies depicting dementia: some comments

I recently read a review of a movie where a main character has Alzheimer’s Disease, and the reviewer stated they were giving it a higher rating because it helped them know more about Alzheimer’s. That comment reminded me of my earlier blog post about how, when awareness about a disease is abysmal, any depiction (movie, book, whatever) is seen as authoritative and informative, and viewers/ readers assume that the patient shown is “typical.”

No single depiction, no single movie can give the range of possible presentations of dementia or its progression or its impact on the person, their family, and others. Placing the burden of such information on a single story is unfair. We cannot assume that a movie’s depiction of a disease is correct, complete, and representative. The movie industry is not making documentaries; they are trying to create an interesting (and believable) story with enough twists and turns in the plot.

Unfortunately, when people see movies centered around a disease, the images and actions stick to their minds; they even quote movies as an authoritative depiction 😦

This blog post contains my detailed comments on the movie depictions of dementia in some Indian movies. My comments are not on the movies/ storyline/ plot/ acting, but focus on whether (in my opinion) the situation depicted is realistic enough to be treated as one data point while trying to understand dementia and its impact.

From what I know, there are currently six Indian movies where a main character has dementia (Alzheimer’s, some other dementia, pseudo-dementia) and shows the symptoms. These are:

I haven’t managed to see Dhoosar yet, but below I give my comments on the other five. I’m only sharing my view on their depiction of a situation of dementia and the environment/ responses/ care around it. Again, I emphasize that I’m not looking at the acting or plot/ pacing/ photography and all that, but at whether (in my opinion) the movie may be useful for someone who expects some insight into dementia and its impact on the patient/ family/ others. While discussing this aspect below, I’m not trying to describe the movie in detail but I’m also not trying to hide the story, so if you have not viewed the movie yet, please be warned–there may be plot spoilers below.

Of the five movies I have seen, I consider three movies worth seeing for dementia/ care. None of the movies cover all aspects (onset, progression, problems/ conflicts created, and finding dignified approaches to cope), but they contain (in my opinion) a reasonable amount of material to give an idea of the challenges involved. Below are what I consider the strengths and gaps of these movies for this “dementia/ care understanding” scope.

Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara, starring Anupam Kher,(Wikipedia page here)

Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara is not a film focused on dementia. It is a film with a social message (though this “moral” is not obvious till near the end). The film has won awards and critical acclaim.

Though the film’s “message” is unrelated to dementia, the protagonist, Anupam Kher is shown as having dementia. The film does a tremendous job of depicting initial symptoms, a spurt in the symptoms, the problems the family faces, how the family rallies around and reaches out to him.

The movie starts by showing Kher as a loving father facing distinct cognitive problems. He retired some years ago, but he walks into a lecture room and talks to a science class about Hindi literature. At home he calls out to his wife, forgetting that she is dead. But he is able to remember his favourite poem and he has the energy and enthusiasm to take up the challenge of rolling out a perfectly round roti. We see the family, the love and affection between them. There are embarrassments, but they are minor, till one day something makes Kher deteriorate rapidly. Things keep getting worse. The daughter’s boyfriend leaves her, she has problems continuing her work. At home, things get increasingly challenging. The father sets fire to newspapers. He gets paranoid about poison and thinks he is in prison, keeping on protesting that he did not kill Gandhi. He wanders off. Doctors are consulted. Family members have some differing views, but they get together to cope. The daughter manages to remain connected with the father (in spite of his dementia) and he trusts her. Finally, a doctor, after studying him and his situation, suggests an experiment to rid Kher of his conviction that he’s in prison because he’s been found guilty of killing Gandhi. In this penultimate scene, a courtroom scene, Kher conveys the message that he has designed this film for. The film ends after this scene, showing Kher much more coherent and happy, able to recite the poem he used to recite earlier, when the film started.

I see this film as having two parts. The pre-courtroom scene shows dementia behavior, the impact on Kher and his family, and so on. All through this, the dementia depiction is excellent. But the film is ambiguous about how the courtroom scene impacts Kher. Does his condition just revert him to where he was earlier, in mild cognitive decline, having resolved the incident that made him deteriorate rapidly? Or is the film implying that he is now perfectly free of his cognitive problems and confusion? The film does not make this clear–and that is not the focus of the film–but for someone viewing the film to understand dementia, this ambiguity can be confusing. The viewer may carry an impression that dementia can be cured by such dramatic interventions, which is probably not what the makers intended, and is anyway erroneous.

The film is relatively non-committal about the diagnosis. The phrases used a few times are “dementia, pseudo-dementia, Alzheimer’s kind of dementia” but nothing more definite is said, and the diagnosis process is not shown in detail. However, the doctor does get involved in how the family members can interact with someone delusional/ difficult to communicate with; he even shows by example. (Pseudodementiais a term used by some doctors for situations where dementia symptoms are caused by some treatable underlying cause. The term is usually used for depressive pseudodementia, where treating the depression can remove the dementia symptoms: Wikipedia page here)

I think this film is excellent in the way Kher depicts dementia. It does a very good job of showcasing how dementia impacts the family members personally and socially. Most interestingly, it also shows how family members rally around to cope and how the daughter finds ways to calm her father and support him. If it weren’t for the vague treatment of the diagnosis and of the impact of the experiment on the overall condition, I’d unreservedly recommend this movie for understanding dementia. Even as it stands, though, I feel this is a great movie for dementia so long as viewers are cautioned not to assume that such drama is a “cure” for dementia.

(Note added in December 2013: I attended a talk by Jahnu Barua who wrote the original screen play and also directed the film. His talk confirmed that the “solution” shown is his wishful thinking, and that he doesn’t know whether it can happen. Read my blog post on it: Information, creativity, fictional imperatives, hope: Considerations while using movies to understand dementia)

Thanmathra (starring Mohan Lal) (Wikipedia page here)

Thanmathra is a Malayalam film available as a DVD with English subtitles. It is a critically acclaimed award-winning film.

Mohan Lal is a very intelligent and active person, very popular. He is an employee in a Govt. job, who had not managed to get into IAS and hopes his son will do so. The film shows him as an active person, and then shows him slipping and facing cognitive problems. Mohan Lal’s portrayal of the early symptoms and how they impact him is very sensitively done. We see his hesitation, his doubt, his increasing gaps in memory and his mistakes/ confusion. He even approaches a doctor, who assumes it is stress. But then he deteriorates further, and we see the diagnosis and the doctor’s advice on care, all very well done.

The movie, which is very detailed in its depiction of this early stage of the dementia, then rushes past while depicting the rest of the dementia journey. The main challenge, the main tragedy is what the disease does to the man. The acting is excellent.

The movie shows early onset Alzheimer’s, where a man still in his earning years, is now out of job, unable to earn, and needing care. The financial, social, and personal impact of someone so young getting dementia are shown, but are not emphasized on in ways that (in my opinion) would hit viewers hard enough to make them ponder. The main earner of the family stops earning, where will money come from for the family, the patient, everything? What of the children and their education? We see his young son having to take tuitions, and his ageing father having to work hard, but these impacts are relatively muted. The son goes on to achieve what his father wanted him to achieve. The daughter seems loving and reconciled to the situation. The loss/ diminishing of the father figure does not seem to have adversely impacted the children. Internal family insecurities/ conflicts/ major problems/ setbacks are not prominent.

The Thanmathra story is set in Kerala, where dementia awareness is probably the highest in the country (they have many “chapters” of ARDSI, for example). The movie includes a few incidents where people are insensitive/ unbelieving, but the overall sense conveyed is one of a supportive family and society. The relatively high degree of support from friends, colleagues, family, and relatives shown in the movie may be true in Kerala (I hope it is so), but is unfortunately not as true for most of India. Basically, Thanmathra shows a far more understanding and supportive environment than most families of early onset dementia are likely to encounter, and to that extent, we do not see some of the tough, heart-breaking situations such dementia often results in. Viewers need to keep that in mind.

Mai (starring Asha Bhosle) (Wikipedia page here)

Mai is a very recent film where Asha Bhosle plays a 65 year old mother of four who has Alzheimer’s. The movie is a family drama, and has not been received well at the box office or by critics, many of whom called it a mediocre story. Mai (the mother) was living with her son, though she had 3 daughters in the same city, but then the son says he cannot handle her as he has an assignment abroad, and Madhu, the eldest daughter, decides that Mai should not live in an old age home, and brings her to her home. The rest of the story is about the conflicts and drama around this decision, and Mai’s behavior/ deterioration.

The movie does a good job when considered from the point of view of understanding how Alzheimer’s may affect the patient and her behavior, and how such changed behavior is perceived by the family and how they respond. The way Bhosle hides things, accuses the maid, seems normal to the granddaughter’s friends, wanders off, gets disoriented about time, place, and people, all vividly depict how some patients behave. The medical angle is well done and fairly complete; we see the doctor asking her questions to diagnose, and also telling the daughter what to expect. There are a few short-cuts, of course, (I doubt any doctor will, based on one day’s confusion on how to wear a saree, declare that a patient’s Alzheimer’s has reached stage 6), but then this is not a detailed documentary 🙂

The film depends on conflict between family members and their resentment about care, and depicts the son-in-law and granddaughter resisting Mai’s presence. There are sideline issues on whether the son was negligent and irresponsible. Interestingly, the mother deteriorates pretty rapidly on coming home with Madhu, but this angle is not explored fully.

If you are viewing the film to understand dementia and its impact, please note that the family depicted here is not approaching the situation in a wholesome way. They do not communicate/ discuss what is involved in bringing Mai home. There is no attempt to understand her state and problems from the brother’s wife before bringing her home. The home is not adjusted to make her stay comfortable and safer. They don’t try to communicate with Mai–the son-in-law and grand-daughter stay distant, and the daughter is always tense and snapping at everyone. They take no precautions against wandering even after the diagnosis and being warned by the doctor.

The family situation/ reaction is understandable, of course, because families do take time to adjust to the diagnosis and sort out differences. But for someone trying to understand how such a patient can be helped, the film can be distressing/ misleading/ depressing, because while it gives a good idea of the problems, it does not let viewers know that there are ways to improve communication, reduce conflict, and improve the quality of life. I point out this gap because if the film is being seen as “instructional” it may leave an impression that nothing can be done to adjust with or to help someone deteriorating with Alzheimer’s.

In all the three films I mention above, we see only early onset dementia. We don’t see dementia hitting people already old (Kher is a recently retired professor, Mohanlal is still in his forties/ early fifties, Mai is just touching 65). We don’t see some aspects of dementia that are probably not audience-friendly–urinary incontinence, for example. Or bedridden patients. Any tough decisions of late stage are avoided (entubation, end-of-life decisions, major financial trade-offs). The focus of depiction is symptoms of early or midstage. Viewers need to remember that movie depictions are incomplete and stay clear of sordid details, and that every case is anyway different. These movies are more suitable for glimpses of dementia and its impact, and not so suitable for families who are wondering how they will handle the dementia care for someone already well into dementia and heading towards late stage dementia.

I do not recommend the following two movies for an understanding of dementia, though of course, the movies may be enjoyable; both the movies have received good reviews and critical acclaim, and viewers and fans have enjoyed them. My focus, as I have said earlier, is seeing them in terms of their depiction of dementia/ care.

U, Me aur Hum (Wikipedia page here) is essentially a love story where love conquers all. In this movie, Kajol is shown as forgetting things right from the beginning (she’s young still, probably in her twenties). As time goes on, she marries and has a child. Meanwhile, there are some episodes of wandering/ other problems. The baby almost dies because of her disorientation. A doctor suggests institutionalization. Decision point. Hubby, after some initial wavering, decides against institutionalization, love conquers all, and problems vanish and we then see Kajol with a grown-up son. She looks well-groomed, alert, full of cheer and humor and smart enough to pretend and have a good laugh. Happy ending.

Developing Alzheimer’s in the twenties is very rare, and the point to note is that such extremely early onset is definitely not typical. Most dementia onset is much later in life. Even the “early onset” dementia usually starts later than this, when the persons are in their 40s, 50s, and 60s. For example, here’s a quote from Mayo Clinic:

Of all the people who have Alzheimer’s disease, about 5 percent develop symptoms before age 65.. ..Most people with early-onset Alzheimer’s develop symptoms of the disease in their 40s and 50s. It’s more common to see someone in his or her 50s who has the disease. From: Early-onset Alzheimer’s: When symptoms begin before age 65

The movie depicts Kajol as someone who is well-groomed without assistance, alert, coherent, articulate, and able to pull through a joke without any fumbling in a room full of strangers over two decades after her symptoms had been severe enough for her to wander and to almost let her baby die because of her disorientation. All scenes depicting Kajol’s disorientation and problems happen in the first few years of her dementia; once the husband takes the “love” decision, things perhaps improve magically. I’m amazed. While some persons with dementia remain functional and active for years or even over a decade, they do need support and assistance, and the movie is quite a stretch, far from a depiction that viewers may find useful to understand dementia.

The movie shows none of the problems the disease brings in day-to-day life, especially in a nuclear family with a working husband and an infant being brought up by someone whose disorientation has almost killed the baby in the past. How the husband’s miraculous love manifests in daily interactions and with her condition changing is not shown. Challenges of care are not shown. Challenges of her connecting to an infant given her condition are not shown. Though the movie has received good reviews and may be liked by some people as a love story full of hope and miracles, I do not recommend this movie to educate someone on dementia or related care.

Now, my comments on Amitabh Bachchan’s Black. (Wikipedia page here) It is important to note here that Black is not a movie about Alzheimer’s. The movie centers around Rani Mukherji and her multiple challenges and on AB’s role as a teacher, and that is what has won it accolades.

From what I can see, Bachchan’s developing Alzheimer’s Disease is something required to complete the story arc– the teacher becomes the helpless, uncommunicative one, and the student is thrust in the role of possible helper. The onset and progression of Alzheimer’s is not fleshed out or “complete” enough to provide a good instructional window into the condition. There are some very good scenes where Bachchan shows the early confusion/ disorientation, but then, we see nothing of how he deteriorates. We don’t see how he handles his everyday life (and how that suffers) after the onset of the problem. We see a bit of him after his dementia is advanced enough for him to have forgotten his name, but the episodes shown are too few to make this movie worth watching from a dementia education angle. The medical situation is barely dwelt on. The movie is really about Rani and her condition, and her maturing and becoming responsible and empathetic.

Black has been appreciated by critics for its acting and for depicting the very unusual situation of a teacher educating a child with multiple disabilities (it is dedicated to Helen Keller, as per the movie credits), and the movie deserves every bit of praise and critical acclaim. My focus here, however, is considering whether someone should see the movie to learn about Alzheimer’s, and I don’t recommend Black for this mainly because of the scanty coverage of this aspect.

I must confess, too, that I had one major personal discomfort while watching the movie: in one scene, Bachhan is shown with his hands chained to the bed with clanging metal chains. The hospital staff probably does to ensure that the utterly disoriented man does not wander, but showing this seemed to me to depict an institution-approved approach to stop wandering. I found that scene utterly repulsive/ disgusting. I don’t know whether there are places that use such methods (I hope not), but even if they do, showing them in a movie adds to the stigmatizing and possible mistreatment of persons with dementia. I definitely don’t want viewers to think that dementia as an illness where chaining patients is advisable/ normal/ correct/ acceptable; because of this very brief scene alone I’d veto this film as “instructional” about dementia.

Again, as I’ve said earlier, it is wrong to treat any movie, howsoever well-made, as a documentary on a disease. Stories are written to depict interesting characters in interesting situations, with drama and conflict and growth and all that. We cannot rely on films to convey awareness or give authoritative information on a disease; for that we need documentaries. We need to bring dementia and care into the mainstream in terms of visibility and discussion. But the fact is that viewers do end up assuming the depictions are correct, complete, and representative, hence this post.

Related post: Poor awareness and the danger of very few representations

Related post added in December 2013: Information, creativity, fictional imperatives, hope: Considerations while using movies to understand dementia

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Voices of persons with dementia

This post is about the importance of hearing the voices of persons with dementia.

I think it is important to create an environment where persons with dementia feel comfortable sharing their experiences and thoughts. I think we don’t get to hear enough voices of persons with dementia. I don’t think we try hard enough to hear such voices and get authentic glimpses of what it is to live with dementia. These glimpses will help us understand how we can support persons with dementia effectively while continuing to respect their abilities, desires, and choices. But I think persons without dementia often don’t pause to wonder what having dementia could be like; we oscillate between treating dementia as a minor inconvenience and the other extreme where “he’s not there any more”, missing out on comprehending a complex situation that impacts the person in multiple ways 😦

Some months ago, I got a call from a man whose father had been diagnosed with dementia (around mid-stage according to the son). The family was finding it very difficult to provide care and keep him safe, and they were tired and frustrated. The son wanted his father to understand and accept the diagnosis. He wanted his father to admit that his memory is a problem and that he cannot do things himself, and to cooperate with the family members, not be stubborn, not wander around, forget instructions, etc.

“We already know about dementia,” he told me. “It’s my father who has to accept it.”

So I asked him to tell me about his understanding of dementia and how it could be impacting patients and to explain which part of his father’s behavior was inconsistent with the symptoms or their consequences. For example, did he really expect his father to remember and follow instructions even though he knew his father was having short-term memory problems and also facing problems in understanding things?

The son was reluctant in the beginning, but a short while later, as I pushed him with some questions, he said, I never thought of it this way, and began using a different lens for the behavior that he had earlier considered stubborn and uncooperative. He started recalling and reinterpreting episode after episode, like how his father may have felt cornered or angry when family members acted annoyed/ angry with him and issued orders. I heaved a sigh of relief. Though he sounded unhappy that he and his family would have to understand and change so many things, he had started seeing the pointlessness of having unrealistic expectations that ignored his father’s diagnosis. This was not just about an MRI showing something or a word on a prescription; his father’s life was changing, and the family would have to find different ways of interacting and being together with him.

I’ve been a caregiver myself. After my mother’s diagnosis, I did not immediately register how dementia may be impacting her. She would not talk of her problems; instead, she became more critical and demanding, and it took me time to correlate this with her possible insecurity and confusion or with her fear that she was going insane and that she would be mocked at or locked up or exploited. My sensitivity to how dementia may be making her life difficult changed the way I communicated with her. I also started thinking of ways to make her environment safer and yet interesting enough in ways she liked it. She responded, and became more peaceful. Glitches and mismatches reduced over time.

Many caregivers have told me that they became better and more considerate caregivers after they began thinking about how the person with dementia may be feeling or what difficulties they may be facing. Problems and stress reduced, and the patients seemed happier.

It’s sad that we caregivers often get so overwhelmed and absorbed in our efforts to care for the person or to make them “behave” and “remember” that we forget how dementia symptoms affect them. We expect them to understand and accept the diagnosis but forget it ourselves.

So yes, if we step back and think, imagine, feel what dementia may be like, we become more sensitive and also more effective and respectful in our approach. If we think of how it is to be confused/ disoriented, we find it obvious that we would not want people to gang up and dictate what we must do.

Yet we must not forget that doing some dementia “role play” or “imagining” is not the same as “living with dementia”.

And when I say “living with dementia”, I refer to the life of a person who has dementia. I am clarifying this because some persons include caregiving experiences in that term, assuming an equation: “living with a person who has dementia” = “living with dementia”, an equation I don’t subscribe to.

According to me, it is presumptuous for non-dementia persons to claim they “know” what the dementia experience is like. They may be professionals who understand the brain and its function/ how the damage affects it, or they may be caregivers who have seen the patient deteriorate, but that’s not the same as having dementia. Mental role play/ projection may allow us a glimpse so that we can create better solutions or improve interactions, but our understanding remains limited. We may even be off the mark.

For example, howsoever much I try to imagine myself with dementia, I cannot immerse myself into that experience because my brain/ abilities are not affected by dementia. I can only speculate/ project based on theoretical knowledge and observations. Also, I am aware all through any “role play” that I don’t have dementia, and that after this uncomfortable ten minutes or one hour I will revert to my current identity and level of abilities. Part of me remains the safe “observer” who can snap out any time. I am not facing years of inevitable deterioration and I have no real reason to be angry or desperate or despondent about life as a whole, or dementia specifically. Nor do I need the shelter of denial.

Besides, every person is different, and how can I know how someone else, with their life history, patterns of thinking and reacting, would respond to the changed brain abilities and the knowledge of the diagnosis?

But we do need to understand how patients experience dementia because, in any illness, this understanding is integral for finding ways to support patients and their caregivers.

Gathering patient voices is tough for dementia because persons with dementia may find it more challenging to observe/ interpret what is happening to them, place it in the context of the diagnosis, and articulate it. The experiences may be frightening or depressing to recall and document, or the act of describing them may require excessive effort or focus. As the underlying dementing disease further damages the brain, such sharing becomes even tougher. If unaware of dementia prior to the diagnosis, patients may not even comprehend the diagnosis, especially if they are already mid-stage/ advanced stage. They may go through a denial phase. They may prefer privacy. Depending on where they live and the people around them, they may be wary of stigma. They are probably trying to squeeze as much life as possible while they still can. Why would they spend precious time and energy sharing painful stuff, an activity that will not help them?

Fortunately, some persons with dementia do speak out in spite of all this, because they hope that their speaking up will help others later. Their courage and honesty and their commitment to the cause is something I admire.

Some persons go public with their diagnosis, celebrities in their respective fields, and that helps people realize that dementia is not some remote, improbable problem that happens to persons who were not using their brains; dementia can happen to anyone, and has happened to reputed writers, rulers of countries, even Nobel-prize winners. (Examples include Sir Terry Pratchett and Ronald Reagan)

But I’m writing about persons with dementia who share their experiences in an ongoing way in public, not once or twice in interviews, but repeatedly through blogs and sites and forums. They write books and publish newsletters and run support groups. They create sustained campaigns to help others understand dementia, they give talks, participate in seminars and forums and committees, and describe day-to-day personal experiences for months and years. They may share incidents of their fears at night, their hallucinations, and their confusion in family gatherings, their increasing inability to handle new situations, their frustration at unsupportive infrastructure or insensitive people. They also talk of what they can do, their outings, what they enjoy, and so on. They make suggestions on what helps them in interactions, and what hurts them. They help us understand what sort of dementia aware environments would empower/ support persons with dementia. Persons like Norm Mac, Rick Phelps, Dr. Richard Taylor, and others.

And in addition to those who speak up in public, we have more voices in closed forums, which provide safer places to interact and support each other.

Before I “met” these persons, I had not heard voices of persons with dementia. My mother would mention a few things once in a while, but for most part, her dementia frightened her and she preferred not to talk about her problems. I had not met anyone else who had dementia and spoke openly about it. Even now, while I have read dementia experiences from outside India, I have not read any from India. Nor am I aware of any focused effort in India to encourage persons with dementia to share their realities and incorporate their ideas in design of systems and services. If there are such initiatives, I would love to hear about them.

Of course, persons vary in their experience of dementia, and so we need more voices to get a range of first-hand experiences. Hopefully more patients will find the environment supportive enough to open up. Even so, there are limits to what we can learn because, as dementia progresses, it affects communication and the ability to analyze/ remember. For example, we may never get data to understand how persons in late stage dementia experiences their decline, though caregivers and professionals may have conjectures about it, and persons in earlier stages of dementia may project their current experience to estimate how they will feel later.

In a way this reminds me of how 24-hour home caregivers often lament about people around them (friends, relatives, colleagues, even professionals supporting dementia care): “They just don’t understand what such caregiving involves” and “only someone going through this can understand.” I guess that holds just as true for understanding what it is to live with dementia.

Here’s to hoping that we’ll hear more voices of those living with dementia, including voices from India, because experiences vary across settings and cultures. And here’s to hoping that there are more and more safe, open spaces where such valuable sharing is possible and honored.

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!

Personal update: A year after my mother’s death

My mother died one year ago; it’s time for me to post a consolidated personal update. Here goes…

I’ve written a lot about my mother in the past. I’ve shared memories of her as a person (including my childhood with her). And I have, over multiple posts, shared episodes of her dementia journey in this blog. I don’t really have much to add to that right now, and I’ll use this entry to share, instead, my experiences of this last year as I have tried to adjust after her passing away.

My mother’s death was a major shift for me not just emotionally but also because I no longer had to coordinate her care. A year ago, most of my life centered was centering around my mother’s care and also my efforts to help other caregivers. This was my main form of self-identity. Of course I was doing other things, too — I had other work and responsibilities, I read books (gobbled them may be a better way to express the truth), I took long walks, I did jigsaws, I saw an occasional movie DVD. But my self-identity was closely knitted around my mother’s care, and this part of my role/ identity collapsed overnight.

One immediate consequence of my mother’s death was disorientation. I’d become used to a constant state of alertness about her, expecting any crisis to happen at any time. I always carried my mobile, even for a five minute trip to a shop. That I no longer needed to remain alert was very odd. I would feel vaguely guilty that I no longer needed to keep her in my mind all the time. I even have intense anxiety episodes  sometimes–for example, waking up with a horrible feeling that something’s wrong or about to go wrong, and that it is related to my mother. Even after remembering that she is dead, and telling myself that, the anxiety takes a while to subside. I’m relieved to share that this disorientation and anxiety has kept reducing over time, both in intensity and frequency.

Then there have been these memories of my mother. While she was alive, I was anchored to her current reality and did not have the time, energy, or need to recall past memories related to her. Her death removed that anchor to the present. I found myself rudderless in terms of a context to think about her. Memories from childhood and my youth all rushed at me with equal weight and validity. I found this distressing and disorienting. Good and happy memories made me nostalgic and I felt a great sense of loss. Bad memories (my mother was not a perfect and neither was I, so we had our share of clashes) brought back restlessness and regret about issues/ grievances we never smoothened out. Both types of memories, good and bad, were disorienting and left me anxious.

In the past year, I have also met many persons who knew my mother, and their recollections of my mother has affected me. Some were her peers, and are active and fit; chatting with them made me acutely aware of how my mother could have been without her dementia, reinforcing my sense of loss.

I’ve been trying to work my way out of these experiences, and also been examining how to carve out my future.

I had not planned for my life after my mother’s death, because any such plans/ dreams could have distracted me from my role and caused me to resent my caregiving work and responsibility. I had a few vague ideas on things I’d like to try, but nothing clear, tangible, prioritized.  So yes, I now have some clear spaces in my life, but I have not experienced any paradigm shift. I’ve realized: Removal of some activities and responsibilities from the day does not automatically confer the mindset and energy to use the cleared up spaces. How does one do what one wants, if one is not clear of what one wants?

A major problem I am facing is lack of energy. All my life (except for a period when I was quite ill), I’ve had abundant energy. It was not always positive energy, sometimes it was excessively negative, but energy as such was never in short supply. This last one year I’ve been so low in energy that I sometimes fear I’ll never recover my drive and energy and that I’ve changed in an irreversible way. Even outings and vacations are tiring. I go for an outing and return without feeling refreshed, almost like I’ve been working hard at “Project Enjoyment” and I now need a vacation to recover 🙂

I’d like to add that every caregiver is different, the situation around the caregiving is different. Grief and loss and the process of healing, recovery and rehabilitation vary from person to person, but there are commonalities, too. I’ve been fortunate inasmuch as I’m in touch with other caregivers who are coping with bereavement and know that my experiences are not exceptional in either range or degree. Many caregivers, after months or years of their loss, continue to feel anxiety or disorientation and remain uncertain about what to do next. The impact is highest for persons whose lives were woven around caregiving and who saw the severe deterioration at very close quarters. Even within the same family, others who were not as involved or as close to the person who died have different recovery pace/ paths. I’ve known caregivers who were so numb at the death that it took them over a month to be able to cry. Books on bereavement and grieving (yes, I read some) also often say this process could take years.

The problem is, we see only the outside part of others, and so if we are feeling confused, disoriented, or anxious or irritable, we may feel we are the only persons with this dark, small, vulnerable inside. We think everyone else handles loss much better, and that we are being inadequate and negative and are disappointing people around us.

From what I see around me, it seems that society expects people to be reasonably active and positive within a few weeks, or maybe a month or so of the death. After that socially accepted grace period, people start saying things like, “when will you move on,” and “she’s at peace, why can’t you move on,” and “come on, be positive, you are free now,” and “snap out of it now, for heaven’s sake” and “when will you get normal” and things like that. Perhaps these statements reflect a general discomfort that people have while interacting with a person who is feeling “low.” Because they don’t know what to say or do, they are tempted to dismiss feelings and they say things that would stop persons from expressing their grief. Or they avoid the person till enough time has passed and they need not mention the bereavement.

Any trauma needs time to recover from. I suspect that anyone (not just caregivers) who has undergone something traumatic/ been bereaved gets sympathy only for a limited time window. People around them “cut them slack” for just a few days or weeks. I suspect that this socially normal duration is far shorter than what the person may need. And the grace period assumed is probably even shorter if the person who died was very ill and fully dependent, persons about whom neighbors, relatives and friends feel justified in saying that the person “is better off dead” and “death must be such a relief.”

Anyway, in terms of future directions…

For the past three months, I have been organizing and consolidating the resources I have created for dementia caregivers. Based on past emails from caregivers and my notes on phone interactions, I have modified and enhanced my existing resources. For example, sometimes persons sent in queries for which answers are already available on my site, so I added more questions in my FAQ and modified pages to make related links obvious, or added some more information. I have checked my to-do lists and wish-lists, completed most items and added the remaining to a new wish-list. I’ve also put in behind-the-scenes technical work to streamline my maintenance effort later. It’s been slow and tiring work.Sometimes I feel that this cleaning up and consolidation effort is the right way to organize myself and free mental resources; at other times, I fear that I am using this consolidation as a rational, legitimate-sounding way of procrastinating 🙂

As of now, I expect that I will continue to provide support to dementia caregivers in India through creation and maintenance of online resources, but I’m still in a flux about what else I want to do and how I’ll combine all the things I want to try out.

I’ve always been a curious person, and I enjoy learning new things. But time is always a constraint, and my current low energy poses a problem. On some days I feel excited about what I want to try, then I feel overwhelmed about how can I ever fit it all into a day or even decide what to start with, and finally I reach the other end of the pendulum swing where I tell myself that I don’t need to do any of this, why bother! On the plus side, I have tried some new things, found that I may like some, and that I don’t like others. Vacations and sightseeing, for example, don’t interest me much; I have found I don’t enjoy the malls in other cities any more than malls in my city, and I’m not into history or religion or eating different cuisines from local hotspots. But I love walks of all sorts. I have plans to try some types of craft.

Overall, I’m not unhappy with my recovery pace, but it has been more difficult and long-drawn than I’d hoped it would be. I continue to be gentle with myself, though, and hope things will keep evolving. And my future activities are still nebulous, but not as nebulous as they were earlier.

Related Posts/ Links

If you like this post, please Share/ like this post using the buttons below.

You can also follow this blog by getting email notifications; click the “Follow me” option at the bottom of the right sidebar. Thank you!