A couple of years ago, following extensive testing, I was diagnosed with mild cognitive impairment - MCI. A low form of dementia.
At the time, the neurosurgeon said he couldn't make a prediction for how much time I have left until the curtain closes. Based on his long medical experience, he opined it could be a few months to a year to several years or maybe nothing would ever change. No "roadmap" as it were.
In a subsequent conversation, he said the scores on my tests indicated possibly as many as seven years of decline. But, even that "best-I-can-guess" opinion was followed by several disclaimers. So, the upshot is, we don't really know how this is going to go. Or when.
I'm not writing this as a search for pity or sympathy. Rather, as a lifelong reporter, I want to describe how this journey goes as a "first person" account. As long as I can. Family "first lady" Barb has asked me to start a written log and make entries as I notice changes. And I have.
Just this morning, I was trying to figure out what three bottles of unused prescription medication were for. She told me. Then she told me again. And one more time. At the moment, a couple of hours later, I don't remember what she said. But, I can tell you the four-digit home phone number we had in 1948. I can tell you our home address in 1945. Long term things are very clear. Remembering what we had for dinner last night, not so much.
Yes, I've done a lot of research about dementia. Some is encouraging. Some is frightening. Causes are mostly unknown. Cures are non-existent. Outcomes nearly all a dead end.
But, there's room for optimism. At age 89, life has been very good. I've had my share of both ups and downs. On balance, things have worked out pretty well. Some dementia patients live their lives with little difficulty. Maybe I will, too.
No, it's not me that should concern anyone. It's Barb. And our daughters. The ones who likely will experience an ever-increasing burden of care as my awareness changes. If it does. They're the ones who will feel the load - both personally and financially. Caregivers, so often, have the tougher battle. Being close but knowing nothing they do can reverse the symptoms or bring back someone they love who no longer knows who they are. If it gets that far.
We've taken care of legal and financial matters as best we can at this point. Necessary documents created. Wills updated. Outside financial and medical support researched. Home health options examined. Figuring out what remodeling changes may be necessary for security purposes. Lots of little details that have never been important before.
One of the difficulties we face is trying to figure out if the changes in my life are because of the dementia or just old age. Weakness, balance, weight loss. Even memory. None of us comes with instructions. I don't have an "owner's manual" to refer to. Is the new pain this morning age-related, caused by some dementia decline or just because I slept wrong?
Aging, we're often told, is not for sissies. That is one hell of an understatement! When we recently lived in a 55+ community, we saw so many people suffering from just about everything physical. And mental. Simply because of advancing years. Even those who lived the "good life" and took care of themselves were weakened and disabled by a body in which the various parts no longer worked as they should.
No, I don't talk about this dementia business for personal reasons. Rather, I do it as someone who has been a life-long professional reporter, a researcher of fact; someone interested in the human story.
I'll start - and maintain - the log of changes as they occur as Barb wants. We've already got some back entries to insert. Will be interesting to look back as we go. Sort of like comparing how we look today with old photographs of what used to be
I won't bring the subject up again in this space unless something significant occurs. Which we don't expect. But, as a lifelong student of fact, I'll try to keep a sort of "third person" attitude for as long as I can to monitor what has become, for me, an unexpected journey.
But, really, isn't that what's life's about for all of us? Unexpected journeys?

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Old men like to tell stories. Some are good at it. Some aren’t. We tell them anyway.