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Doomed anecdotal megathread #2


Sergio Mendacious

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My family is riddled with it. My Great Uncle is being moved today to a permanent nursing home near Leicester after becoming unable to look after himself properly this year. It's been hideous seeing him decline recently. I'm also going to need to ask my Gran to talk to the doctors soon, as much as I don't want to, as she's displaying early signs of it that I recognise from my Grandpa.

The extent to which it's hereditary is still being debated, but it honestly scares the shit out of me.Ā 

Edited by Gus Mears
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I work in insurance and there's a few regular callers with dementia who are convinced that things are being stolen from them by people that either have keys to their home, or are secretly living in their home with them, sneaking around while they're sleeping. It seems to set in within 2/3 years of them losing their partner and escalates into this paranoid state really quickly.

I dealt with a lady this year who was in this state, and she was convinced artwork was being stolen from her and replaced with copies to make people think she was crazy. She was mostly bedbound (she was 91, her husband was 100 and in rapidly failing health) which didn't help matters. Because she couldn't always answer enough questions to satisfy our DPA requirements, I dealt almost solely with her as it was agreed that I could recognise whether it was genuinely her or not, and when she rang she would usually ask to be transferred to me also.
However, after months of this, I returned a call from when she'd rang on my day off and asked toĀ speak to me, and she had absolutely no idea who I was or why I was calling.

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12 hours ago, Nostalgia Nonce said:


However, after months of this, I returned a call from when she'd rang on my day off and asked toĀ speak to me, and she had absolutely no idea who I was or why I was calling.

Itā€™s really sad. Weā€™re going through similar with my wifeā€™s 90+Ā year old grandad (the one on the skateboard for those who remember that pic). Heā€™s on the south coast and called us on Saturday. He wanted to speak to my father in law, not remembering that he is based in Liverpool, and forgot he was speaking to his grandchild.

He asked that we bringĀ him some jam jars as soon as possible but said ā€œI canā€™t renember why I need them but itā€™s importantā€.Ā 

He then again forgot who he was speaking to and hung up.

Whilst the content is almost comedy, the subject is heartbreaking.

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There is a woman who comes into the charity shop where my girlfriend works and she is clearly in the onset of dementia. Ā The other day she pissed herself where she stood and was completely oblivious. Ā Social services have to intervene but they've said they can't do anything because she isn't a danger to herself yet.

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When my grandad was in hospital for the last time, I'd agreed with him that I wouldn't go in and see him ā€” he knew that his mind was failing him, and he said he didn't want to be remembered that way. Had just moved down to London, so I was only home every couple of weekends, but my dad and uncle decided I was being selfish, and conspired to get me into the hospital to "say goodbye."Ā 

"He's totally himself, the nurses are saying it's miraculous!" said my uncle. Showed up, he thought I was his brother, stood up stark naked and walked across the ward to greet me. Hard to avoid my dad, but never willingly spoke to my uncle again after that.

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My dad would sit aroud the house until about 2.45pm, at which point he would start getting ready to "go home." I guess he thought he was at work or something. He'd then get his coat and hat on and want to leave. If you didn't let him, he'd get very agitated. So my mum would usually humour him and take him for a walk round the block, which would sort him out for a while. I would take him out for a drive sometimes if I was home.

"Crossword a day" and all that. My dad was an antisocial recluse who did nothing beyond watch a bit of TV and go to church on a Sunday. His brain just withered away. He indulged in a lot of behind-the-curtain spying on neighbours, always complaining about their comings and goings, kids, dogs etc, though that eventually went as well. He started having a lot of falls and it was too much for my mum as he needed 24/7 care so we had to send him to a home.Ā 

It was easier for my mum like that, he was in care for about 3 years, but it never stopped making her feel guilty. When he went in the home, we asked how easy it was for the residents to escape (knowing dad would want to leave around the 2.45pm mark), they said its fine, nobody's ever escaped. Cue dad somehow getting beyond the key coded door within the first week šŸ˜‚.Ā Ā 

He spent his last few years at home constantly whistling "Que sera". I hoped this meant he'd found some kind of internal peace as he was a very troubled man in his younger days; maybe it meant whatever demons he'd had had been forgotten as well. He would never talk about anything so I couldn't know.Ā 

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