The Aftermath of Lost Independence

I’ve achieved numerous milestones in my lifetime from boyhood to adulthood. I got my first job at 16. I got my drivers license at 17. I went to college during my senior year of high school and went on to earn a bachelor of science in psychology and spent a short time in the field. I got married and fathered three children. I’ve been married twice and now to a wonderful wife with a step-daughter who I care for as my own. I spent twenty years in the restaurant business learning the ins and outs of it. I became a pretty good cook doing so. 

I’ve also reached a few milestones I would’ve rather done without. But with the grace of God and His strength I overcame years of alcoholism and anorexia in my past. For years I self medicated my bipolar when my medications wouldn’t work with alcohol that almost cost me my marriage. I went through a nasty custody battle that caused me to feel out of control and as a means to find some form of it I fell victim to anorexia for six years. But by finding my renewed relationship with God He restored me and I can add the milestones of recovery to my list.

With the diagnosis of Parkinson’s and dementia I’m making a new list to mark off. A list of losses. I’m only 40 and I haven’t driven in over five years. February 18, 2010 was the last day I drove. I no longer even have a license. I remember my wife and I having “the talk” with my neurologist about me driving. It was the first step of losing my independence. I don’t drive because it’s too dangerous. I can’t react fast enough and I get lost. I get disoriented and confused. I’ll admit I’ve driven our car a couple of miles illegally a couple of times, but we won’t tell everyone about it. But for me to drive on a regular basis is too dangerous. 

I’ve accepted my diagnoses. I’ve faced reality by now. I can count that on my faith. I have found peace. But it wasn’t always that way. For a while it was depressing. For a while I was angry. The loss of independence is very life shattering. You lose your identity. You are no longer who you were. You are less of the person of who you were. You are broken. Unfixable. Childish. A burden. It is a pain that comes and goes with each and every loss.

Medication Scare

Medications! Oh how I hate them. Well, I’ll be honest there are some prescription meds that can be fun I’m on but in all I hate them. I’m no stranger to taking medications. I’ve been taking them since I was a young child and as an adult I’ve always managed them myself. I took them for severe asthma on a daily basis as preventive treatment as a child. Carried an inhaler with me everywhere I went. I was a sickly child. Had pneumonia five times which landed me in the hospital three of the times. Of all the sicknesses I’ve had that one I out grew.

But I also grew up undiagnosed with childhood bipolar which later got me diagnosed with Bipolar 1 mixed rapid cycling with psychotic features where I tend to lean on the depressive side. I was diagnosed in my early 20’s. Twenty-four I think. So I’ve been taking meds for that ever since. Almost twenty years as long as I’ve been med compliant. Being mentally ill and med compliant doesn’t always go hand in hand. But for the most part I have been. I’ve had my mishaps with my mental health medications in the past years ago. Some on purpose, some not on purpose. The on purpose times were during dark depressive days I was fighting just to stay alive. The not on purpose days were due to side effects or getting new prescriptions and the meds not mixing well. 

I had a scare the day before yesterday that many of my Facebook friends from my regular page know and my dementia support group already know about. At 8:00am I took my morning meds. Around 10:00am for some reason thought I hadn’t taken them so I took them again. Within two hours I took double the dosages of all my morning meds. Some of them are very dangerous to take too much of. My chest started hurting and I was getting very foggy and extremely exhausted. One med was a blood pressure pill I take for migraine prevention. Another was an anticonvulsant. Another a sedative and a benzodiazepine with a muscle relaxer. Luckily I was talking to my wife on Facebook and told her what was going on. She rushed home and took me to the emergency room where they monitored me for a few hours. My blood pressure was a little low for a while and the EKG was fine. My blood pressure returned to normal and I was released to sleep it off. Needless to say I’m ok and we have already come up with a new system to distribute me my daily meds.

I received wonderful words of encouragement on Facebook with countless words of advice on how to possibly come up with ways to handle my medications all of which my wife and I can glean from. They showed so much love.

Like I said, I’m no stranger to medication. I’ve taken it for almost 40 years. Medications are a two-edged sword. They play a vital part in helping the person with dementia to sleep, in controlling their agitation, or in treating other conditions. At the same time, they are susceptible to overmedication and to reactions from combinations of drugs. 

I don’t know if it was the dementia that caused me to forget I took my meds or if it was a side effect of one my meds. I didn’t take anything new or anything out of schedule. I took my 8:00am meds as usual, with coffee and a Coke. However, I have been more forgetful here lately. 

So it seems I am no longer able to manage my own medications now. I knew the day would come. And I have always feared a dangerous mishap with my medications. So I’m glad it didn’t turn out worse than it did. We left the hospital and went to McDonald’s. 

I handle the loss of independence fairly well. I know it will all come in steps one at a time eventually. I can’t control it. I can’t foresee it and I accept that. I can’t even anticipate the speed of each arrival. I accept the fact that now my wife will prepare my medications each night and prepare for them for me for the next day. I understand it is for my safety and so that it means I will be around longer for her. Rather than getting angry at this loss of independence I have to accept it with grace that I have a loving wife who is here for me to accept me as I am and is willing to care for me as this disease comes.