Neither Married Nor Single: When Your Partner Has Alzheimer's or Other Dementia - Softcover

Kirkpatrick MD, David

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1550597280 ISBN 13: 9781550597288

Publisher: Brush Education, 2018

Synopsis

When Dr. David Kirkpatrick’s wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2007, their lives—and their marriage—would change forever. In an honest, uplifting, and sometimes heartbreaking account of loving a partner with dementia, Dr. Kirkpatrick creates a clear guide for others in similar circumstances. He shares his perspective both as a loving and grief-stricken husband coping with a profound change in his marriage, and as a geriatric psychiatrist doing everything he can for his wife while continually learning throughout that experience.

Dr. Kirkpatrick tackles the tough questions about caretaking, grief, loss, love, and sex for those whose partners have dementia. When is the right time to find or even to begin considering a care home for your loved one? How can you navigate the complexities of your changing sexual relationship with an Alzheimer’s partner? When is it appropriate for you to consider new relationships? With wisdom and compassion, Dr. Kirkpatrick reflects on these questions and more.

Whether your partner has been recently diagnosed or has been living with dementia for many years, Neither Married Nor Single will help lead you to effective strategies for living and loving in an Alzheimer’s marriage, and for dealing with the changes ahead.

And it will help you remember that you are not alone.

About this title

About the Author:

Dr. David Kirkpatrick worked for forty years as a psychologist, psychiatrist and psychotherapist. Born and raised in Yellow Springs, Ohio, he now lives in West Vancouver.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

CHAPTER ONE: THE DIAGNOSIS

It was March 2007 and my wife Clair and I had endured what seemed like an excruciating, unnecessarily long period of diagnostic frustration, awaiting some answers—any answers—to what was plaguing her. Brief lapses in memory. Losing her keys—but shoot, I’d done that myself more than once. Misinterpreting others’ actions and reactions. Mild disorganization such as leaving bedroom and bathroom lights on—I did that, too—and trying to bake a pizza in the microwave. But all of this was way out of character for the highly organized woman I had known and loved for more than twelve years.

Now the results of her visit to the neuropsychologist had been relayed to her neurologist, and we sat waiting for him to pass on the news.

“It’s TIAs, isn’t it?” the anxious physician within me asked hopefully. TIA stands for transient ischemic attack, which is a small, often temporary stroke.

The neurologist shook his head slowly but surely. Then he quietly explained that my wife had Alzheimer’s disease or, as he diplomatically shortened it, AD. Before we left his office, he wrote her a prescription for memantine, one of the four or five medications that help slow, though not stop, the progress of this relentlessly cruel and pitiless memory-killer. As we drove back to our home on Vancouver’s north shore, my wife began crying quietly.

“Do you want to share?” I asked at a stoplight.

“Well, you’ve been through this before,” she observed, referring to the cancer death of my first wife.

“Well, you have too, honey,” I said, a reminder that she had lost her first husband to pancreatic cancer. We were mostly quiet as we drove the rest of the way home, our private, probably overlapping thoughts, fears and fantasies swirling in our respective heads.

Clair was suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. It had first been symptomatic five years earlier, when she was only sixty-two, an age at which very few in the general population are so unfairly stricken. A gifted clinical psychologist, she had been in steady demand in those days to give workshops to counsellors and psychologists working in the field, professionals who wanted to take further instruction from someone with such an outstanding and deserved international reputation. But there had been little incidents that indicated all was not right with her: missed appointments, confusion over a passport renewal, misinterpretations of family and colleagues’ actions. On February 21, 2002, she had written in her journal:

“So much is happening that I can’t keep issues straight . . . Every one of these hiccups seems to take the stuffing out of me. And I am so tired . . . We took [grandson] William for the weekend . . . He kept us busy & David seemed annoyed/irritated that he was there . . . I was picking up black vibes from David [which] was not helping because amongst other things, as he saw it, no sex. But he was creating an unpleasant aura . . . Everything seems to be compounded by my forgetfulness—e.g., I asked Mary to pick up the signed passport application [at J’s clinic], and she did so—at least she went there but I had not yet taken it [there] . . . I try to stay/be organized but I have never felt so disorganized. Passport papers, insurance papers. This leads to much pain. Worrying if dementia is setting in. I need more time.”

After presenting a week-long workshop in London in July 2004, Clair emailed me, adding a very pleased note that her hostess “was thrilled with the card holder, in pewter and pearl, that I gave her . . . Actually, I forgot to give it to her [when I arrived] and found it in my suitcase when I packed this morning.” It was an innocent postscript, but it was a reminder that in a somewhat synchronous fashion we had both been pushing our respective fears and anxieties about her health into the background and continuing to love, appreciate and fully enjoy each other.

Then in late spring 2006 Clair returned to the United Kingdom to teach, and what happened during that trip would tell each of us that ours was going to be a more challenging marriage than either of us had imagined. In a message I received on June 4, she explained that she had told her friend and host about her health issues. “Because [she] was originally a speech therapist, she knew quite a bit about brain functioning. So we had a good chat. I am now very tired.” The next day she emailed me.

“It seems like forever since I saw you, made love with you, felt so safe with you. It was good that I had told [her hosts] about the problems I have been having . . . [because] this morning I have had total mind/memory blanks . . . It makes me feel sad to be so out of touch with myself . . . I am hoping this all has to do with jet lag. Please be assured that I am in good hands and that my friends are so very supportive. I plan to go for a walk this afternoon and maybe clear my head.”

On June 15 I received a phone call from Clair’s concerned hostess and colleague to say that Clair’s mind/memory blanks had increased. Afterwards I spoke with Clair, then emailed back to her hostess:

“Talked with Clair at about 0845 your time. She was understandably upset, reminded me her [reviews from workshop participants in Wales] were uniformly okay, all '5/5 except for two 4/5s!' but she did try to listen to my concerns. I think she will . . . cancel balance of her trip but am not sure. Faxing her MDs today.”

Three days later I heard back from Clair’s hostess:

“Dear David,

I would really appreciate the opportunity to talk to you about how Clair is doing and my concerns about her going to Greece and then later to Green Park. Could you get back to me as soon as possible with your number and when I could best catch you? It has been wonderful to spend time with Clair and we have had a great time together in Cambridge and in Wales. However, her difficulties are very marked—more than I think she is aware, although I know she is understandably very anxious and distressed about her challenges with short term memory and spatial/time awareness.

Hope to talk with you very soon.”

Clair’s trip to Greece was cancelled, and her teaching tour of Europe was cut short. She returned home to Canada frustrated. Like me, she was puzzled and anxious about this turn of events in her life, but she was also cooperative, eager to help us help her. We assured ourselves that things must be getting better, right? That we would discuss the problem tomorrow—or when it was quiet. Each of us in our own way was eager for answers, wanting to make sense of these pieces to our shared puzzle. Then in the spring of 2007 we received the answer we were dreading: Alzheimer’s disease.

A week or so after we received the verdict from the neurologist, Clair insisted we see the movie Away from Her, which had been adapted from an Alice Munro short story called “The Bear Came over the Mountain.” The film covers a time of transition in the lives of an Alzheimer’s-afflicted woman (played by Julie Christie) and her retired college professor husband (played by Gordon Pinsent) as they struggle together and separately with the themes of socialization, relationship possibilities and needs, sexuality, commitment, intimacy, loneliness and loyalty. The husband experiences an epiphany when the wife transfers her affections to another man, a wheelchair-bound mute who is a patient in the same care home. Clair and I laughed. We cried. Afterward we shared our feelings softly while savouring Indian food.

There were many challenges in the next phase of our marriage and our personal lives. For Clair, the greatest challenge was being forced to shut down her clinical practice; such a large part of her identity had centred around her work with clients and the knowledge that she was making a difference in their lives. As for me, I learned that I could make two types of mistakes in our daily to-and-fro and give-and-take. The first type was the anxious husband reaching out to help his wife when she neither needed nor wanted assistance. The second type was my missing opportunities to help when she genuinely needed me. Type one errors were more common and really teed her off. Type two errors were mercifully less frequent—or so she said.

I comforted her when she was having a bad day, feeling irritated or frustrated. Sometimes I felt cheered up myself, reassured and relieved in being there for her. Most days we enjoyed each other, sometimes hugely. Laughing. Fighting. Making up. Making love. Teasing and joking. Snuggling. Tasting her superb rhubarb crisp. Just as in the time before Alzheimer’s disease came into our lives, on our very best days we lived contentedly in the moment, in the here and now. And I was reminded of my grandmother, who would have told me, “Make hay while the sun shines!”

Learning about Alzheimer’s Disease

The seeds of the book you now hold in your hands were probably planted sometime around the day that my wife and I saw the movie Away from Her and then shared our thoughts and feelings over dinner. But so much more has happened to her and me—and us—since that day in 2007 about which I must now write. Perhaps if I had been a little less grief-stricken, in less emotional shock over losing Clair one teaspoonful at a time, I might have done some more mental or cognitive homework back then, maybe a little more reading about what she was likely experiencing. Since that time, however, I have learned much more about this disease.

I learned, for example, from the Global Voice on Dementia, sponsored online by Alzheimer’s Disease International, an international federation of the 75 Alzheimer associations around the world, that as of 2013 there were an estimated 44.4 million people with dementia worldwide, a number that is expected to increase to 75.6 million by 2030 and 135.5 million by 2050. There are 7.7 million new cases of dementia diagnosed each year, which means that a new case of dementia is diagnosed somewhere in the world every four seconds. According to the website, at present the cost of AD amounts to approximately 1 percent of the entire world’s gross domestic product, varying from 0.24 percent of GDP in low-income countries to 0.35 percent in low middle-income countries, 0.50 percent in high middle-income countries and 1.24 percent in high-income countries. This amount is divided between that provided by family members and that provided by care professionals within the community and in care facilities, as well as the direct costs of medical care.

Variable Factors in Dementia

Although the techniques for diagnosing Alzheimer’s disease have changed little over the years and are still imprecise, a diagnosis is valuable for both the patient and his/her family because a systematic assessment can eliminate other possible explanations for the symptoms a person is experiencing and the signs he/she is exhibiting. (It is useful here to note that symptoms are concerns, observations or complaints experienced by the patient him/herself, while signs are clues observed by family, friends or health care professionals. Thus, a headache is a symptom, not a sign, but memory loss to which a person is oblivious is a sign. An increased temperature that the person is aware of but that is also documented by a thermometer is both a sign and a symptom.) Recognizing early warnings and having them assessed by a family doctor are a critical first step toward diagnosis.

Warnings may include changes in memory; reasoning and judgement; speech, language and comprehension; mood and personality; and balance, gait and orientation. However, the Family Caregiver Alliance website points out that there are critical distinctions between reversible dementias and irreversible dementias. Reversible dementias result from metabolic abnormalities, endocrine imbalance, operable brain changes (hematomas, benign tumours or blood clots, for example), infections or reactions to (or interactions with) medications. Alzheimer’s disease is at the top of the list of irreversible dementias, but the list also includes Lewy body dementia, Creutzfeld-Jakob dementia, frontotemporal dementia and ischemic vascular dementia.

It is possible, however, for both competent family practitioners and specialists to confuse one of the treatable and reversible medical problems with a progressive dementia such as Alzheimer’s, and vice versa. Hypothyroidism, for example, can slow a person down and affect his/her thinking, sometimes in a manner mimicking dementia. Anemia in older people may affect not only their energy levels but also sometimes their thought processes and memory. There is also a category within psychiatry known as the pseudodementia of depression. In this situation, a deeply depressed older person may become bedridden and lethargic, with sometimes severe cognitive slippage and memory loss. Treating that person’s depression aggressively usually (although not always) results in a marked decrease in his/her depression-related cognitive and memory impairment.

While it still takes time to monitor each individual to be sure of a diagnosis, as diagnostic processes are refined and the mass of data collected in tests is analyzed, specialists are determining both more accurately and more quickly whether there is a problem, the severity of it and often the cause—or in some cases, the combination of causes. This determination helps to guide the treatment and care for the affected person and family. However, until there is a conclusive test for Alzheimer’s, doctors may continue to use the phrase probable Alzheimer’s disease.

Mild Cognitive Impairment

One step before the diagnosis of possible dementia, a doctor may refer to an individual’s recent memory slippage of uncertain origin as mild cognitive impairment, or MCI. The Mayo Clinic website describes MCI as a stage between the memory decline that can be expected with advancing age and the memory loss typical of dementia, but MCI may affect not only memory but also language and thought processing. People with this diagnosis may repeat questions, may have difficulty performing executive functions and may struggle with mastering new job skills or organizing events. They may not notice that their mental functions have slipped because the changes may be gradual and not pronounced enough to disrupt day-to-day activities to any marked degree, but family members and close friends will be aware of changes.

Mild cognitive impairment may be accompanied by depression, irritability and aggression, anxiety or apathy. It may also be associated with the patient’s risk of later progressing to dementia, but some people with mild cognitive impairment never get worse, and a few eventually get better.

Vascular Dementia

The second-most prevalent dementia after Alzheimer’s disease (with or without small strokes) is vascular dementia (also known as multi-infarct dementia), which accounts for up to 20 percent of all those diagnosed. Unlike Alzheimer’s disease, with its insidious onset, vascular dementia usually comes on suddenly as the result of stroke, when the blood vessels supplying oxygen to the brain become blocked or bleed, or both. Symptoms may include sudd...

About this edition

• Publisher: Brush Education
• Publication date: 2018
• ISBN 10: 1550597280
• ISBN 13: 9781550597288
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 144