Further Pussificatory rhetoric...

[Carbonated_Brains]

If I'm forced to get a brain disease when I'm old, I'd love dementia.

We had a family member who got dementia in his old age; he was the happiest guy in the world. Completely detached from logic and reality, he was totally content in his own little world. Always kept a pot of coffee on because the Queen was going to visit soon.

Yeah, now that would be a cool sort of dementia to have, CB. Its funny how the condition affects different people. Some end up like your family member but some end up mean and paranoid, though. Some end up very anxious. My Dad had bouts of dementia at the end of his life. It was wierd how he'd go in and out of reality. I think he was having a series of mini-strokes is what it was. My Dad had been very responsible and hard working all his life. Once I went to visit him at the assisted living place where he spent his final two years and he was extremely upset. He had packed up all his belongings and had been calling the airport about flights to Kentucky. Turns out it was the time of the year to start stripping tobacco leaves and my Dad thought his brother-in-law (by then dead for years) needed him to come help out on his tobacco farm. When the first Gulf War started, my Dad called me up and insisted that he needed to get out to Fort Carson. "I need to report back to my unit," he informed me. "My men need me." Jeez, poor old guy. He'd already fought for his country in three wars and was ready to go back and fight in a fourth one at age 79!

[mrnoodle]

Originally Posted by Carbonated_Brains

We had a family member who got dementia in his old age; he was the happiest guy in the world. Completely detached from logic and reality, he was totally content in his own little world. Always kept a pot of coffee on because the Queen was going to visit soon.

About 2 months before my (beloved) nana died, she got dementia. She heard old hymns all the time, and was convinced that there was a party that she had to prepare for upstairs. There were some not-so-cute moments as well, such as "the boy standing in the corner" at 12 a.m. and the little baby she thought was sleeping on the pillow next to her. That was creepy.

But while she still had intermittent lucidity, she knew she was losing it, and took pains not to worry us. One of the last clear things she said to us was, "It's too bad none of you can hear the music, it's very pretty." Even she chuckled at that one.

Gotta go get something out of my eye. Love you, nana.