Tag Archives: dementia

Who I Am Yesterday finds Barnes & Noble, and a lot of new friends

Over the past month, I have been working towards a book signing arranged for me by Greta King, a magical marketing agent. My debut run at this activity was at Barnes and Noble on Black Lake Blvd in Western Olympia, Washington. Since my book is about caregiving and the things one must learn to live with a loved one with dementia, I chose to expand my influence.


I spent some time in the offices of Council on Aging in both Aberdeen and Olympia, and collected a substantial amount of literature about support groups, resources, and organizations. That collection followed me to the signing, and will become a permanent part of any signing or speaking engagement I secure in the future.

In addition, I put together a short resource guide that included several book titles, and links to sources of clothing, medical equipment, and care supplies. That guide is available here. My list of reading material includes the literature provided by the Council on Aging, along with links to acquire additional information. Even if SW Washington is not where you live, the list is broad enough it will provide a starting point to locate support closer to home.

My local newspaper also published a brief article about the event and something about my book.

For this event, Barnes and Noble used my resource list to locate titles within their store that might be of help. These became part of my display. The store management was very gracious and mentioned several times how happy they were to be a part of my mission to inform, to comfort, and to share.

Then, of course, the event. Yes, I sold a few books. The store will continue to stock my book, at least for a while. I also had a chance to talk with people who needed and wanted what I had to offer. One group of ladies had traveled to hear me speak and when they realized I was not speaking, asked for contact information so that they could invite me to speak to their group. They left well supplied with materials, a signed copy of my book, and a few answers I could offer based on my own experience.

Another lady stopped in mid-stride as she came through the door and announced she had just decided she needed a cup of coffee and had no idea why; until she saw my table. Again, after having a cup of coffee and reading through a few things, she left well supplied with information, and a signed copy of my book.

John McBride, from the office of the Lewis-Mason-Thurston Council on Aging, stopped by with his wife to get my autograph on the copy I had left with his office. From what I hear, both his office and Aberdeen may be contacting me about acquiring more copies for their people and to share. There are also hints of a speaking thing or two in the future.

I would say, all in all, the event was a success. I know I thoroughly enjoyed meeting the people that stopped to say hi and talk (or grab a bit of candy). I think I will be a welcome guest at the store in the future, and I have made contacts that may well expand my reach and my ability to share. Not a bad start; not bad at all.

Choose to Dance – find the way that clearly defines your needs as a caregiver, and the needs of the person being cared for – and dance to your own tune.



Filed under Caregiving Backstage, Stuff about Writing

Memories that Strangle

Rings. Symbols of promised love, a symbol of taste or status, a gift. A gift that can turn ugly with little or no warning. I tell this story because it is something easily missed in the rush to care for someone suffering from some form of dementia. One more hazard in life’s ever more restrictive path.


When my husband and I got married, we decided to do something a bit different. We selected titanium rings. This is an extremely hard metal that does not yield to much in this world. Just about the only way to do much more than scar it is to use a diamond blade. We loved the cool, gray metal, the uniqueness, and the idea of endurance.

There was a bit of a problem. His ring finger was sort of in between things. He lost the ring twice (and found it again) and we even purchased a replacement (only to find the lost one). We were told that to have a smaller one on his hand would risk not being able to remove it over his knuckle. Well, he solved that and wore the ring on his middle finger – for years. Until a couple weeks ago.

One morning as he reached for my hand he jerked back and seemed pained. On closer inspection I realized that I had missed a gout episode in the making. It was his ring finger, and it was already quite swollen and warm. Knowing the strength of the metal and the impossibility of removing it if things got worse – off to urgent care we went.

They did take us in immediately. It was obvious there was an issue. And they tried. Squishing, squeezing, the thread trick (I don’t think they did that one right), the ring cutters (even the electric ones) and nothing. It was only getting tighter. My poor husband was in pain and the ring was going nowhere. Someone got the bright idea to call orthopedics.

Some 30-40 minutes later (while I kept hand up and cold pack on the finger) here came the bone doctor with the one thing I knew we needed; a diamond bladed saw. It was really quite an operation. I held a couple of supports under the ring to protect the finger as best I could, the doctor sawed, and a nurse ran a saline drip to keep things as cool as possible. The doctor passed out eye protection against sparks and spray. And we cut. Twice. We couldn’t force the thing open with only one side cut. When the ring came off my poor husband had a second degree burn. The metal had heated up even though we did our best to avoid it. Interesting that the only time he took his hand away is when we stuck it in a bucket of ice. With all the ignominies he had suffered that morning, ice water was one step too far.

There was a point while we were waiting for the orthopedic fellow that someone was floating the idea of visiting the jeweler. Really? Do YOU know a jeweler that would take the liability of taking in some poor bloke with dementia, saw off his ring leaving a 2nd degree burn, all the while hoping the wife had the right whatevers at home to care for it? Um, maybe somewhere the lawyer count is lower but not in my neck of the woods.

The moral, of course, it to be a bit more watchful of those who can no longer understand or communicate when they see a problem coming. In years gone by, any hint of gout and the ring would have been off until things were back to normal.

Be wary the midnight strangler. Put jewelry safely away. If it is missed find a flexible substitute. It really is a near thing that we lost a ring, and not a finger.

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Filed under Caregiving Backstage

My visit to the Health eBrain Study

Well, this time my poking around really got me into things. I had written Meryl Comer, author of Slow Dancing with a Stranger, because I was so touched by her experience. She just happens to be a very reachable kind of lady and full of passion for her focus; mental health. During our chat she asked if I would share the press release for the Health eBrain Study around noon EDT, September 29, 2014. And I did. Everywhere I could think of. I also went one step further – I took the test.


It’s a simple test that really doesn’t take all that long to do. You do provide some demographic information, mainly so that the researchers can compare apples with apples, sort of. It is NOT an IQ test. It tests your response time, the ability to remember a sequence (both forwards and backwards) and your ability to assess changing information based on some really simple parameters. Your score is provided at the end of each section and you are allowed to practice – how many times I’m don’t really know. If you do decide to take the test, I suggest you close everything else on your computer (yes, even Facebook) so that you can focus and do your best. It also helps the response time on some of your answers. My mouse got stuck in a couple of places and caused me to register a few errors. Which is okay; you aren’t competing for a scholarship or a vacation or anything, but it is a nice thing to provide the most accurate information you can.

So what is all the fuss about? Let me quote from the press release.

Changes in cognitive efficiency are closely linked and can occur with depression, fatigue, stress, and long-term chronic illness. This impact is particularly severe for caregivers of individuals with complex chronic conditions like Alzheimer’s and other dementias, two-thirds of whom are women. The physical, mental and emotional burden over time can take as much as ten years off a family caregiver’s life. It also can increase the caregiver’s own risk for dementia. [The numbers Meryl gave me are 6-1].

“Over fifteen million unpaid individuals provide care to the 5.4 million victims with Alzheimer’s or other dementias. [Just to point out the math, that is less than 3 individuals per patient which means that most of us are working far more than one 8-hour shift, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year.] We form the backbone of all unpaid long-term care in the U. S. What happens to our loved ones if something happens to us?” (Meryl Comer, a 17-year veteran of caregiving and President of the Geoffrey Beene Foundation Alzheimer’s Initiative.)

I really urge caregivers to take this opportunity to contribute to serious research about the impact of caregiving. It can give us much needed tools to mitigate or defer the impacts of a mind on holiday.

I have attached the press release for the study. The list of supporters for the program read like a who’s who in the world of caregiving and dementia. You will also find links to the video and to the survey itself. Again, no money is required – just a few minutes of your time to increase the pool of information that researchers need so desperately to find ways to help the caregiving community and those they care for.

Health-eBrain Study link: www.health-ebrainstudy.org

Geoffrey Beene Foundation Alzheimer’s Initiative: http://www.geoffreybeene.com/alzheimers.html

US Against Alzheimer’s: http://www.usagainstalzheimers.org/

Meryl Comer on Facebook (great news feed on things going on): https://www.facebook.com/meryl.comer.alz

What it is all about: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dD3ROvJvbo&index=1&list=PLETJvf11XiB_EmzOS44Py8YCRC4VzHLOr



Filed under Caregiving Backstage

Book Review ~ The Dance of the Absent Mind

Slow Dancing With a Stranger, Meryl Comer, Available on Amazon for $13-20

Slow Dancing CoverAs strange as it may seem, I don’t often read books about dementia. I do read a great deal about the brain, memory, and where we are in researching the functions of the mind. I am certainly not aware of my reason for following up on a generally posted suggestion to read this particular title. A brief post stating it was a “must read” (aren’t they all) in a Facebook support group for caregivers of those with dementia caught my attention. Well, why not?

Meryl both stunned and encouraged me with her account of two decades of care for her husband who suffered from early-onset Alzheimer’s. She has faced many things I have not had to deal with, including anger, violence and very public battles as her husband slipped into the disease at a high point in his illustrious career. Dr. Harvey Gralnick was a brilliant NIH scientist working on the leading edge of Leukemia research. Suddenly, he was showing changes in his behavior. Anger and confusion, and fixations on things no longer relevant. In search of an answer Meryl spent hours in doctors’ offices with few if any answers. When care became necessary, she burned through hospitals and facilities until the only choice was home with herself as lead to a caregiving team. In later years she added her mother to the already monumental financial and emotional burden.

In her own words, when given the opportunity to return to work as an advocate for the disease and direct a foundation fund, she saw it as a lifeline. Not only would she have income again if she could manage to take the challenge on; she had a place for “the sound of (her) pain (to) go.” US Against Alzheimer’s is an organization that strives to establish awareness in two ways; early detection and research on prevention.

There is no cure. Dementia, and there are several types, destroys various parts of the brain. Different dementia affect the brain in different ways. But once those cells or neuro-connections are destroyed, we know of no way to restore them or their functions. We barely understand functions of only parts of the brain and some of the interactions between the various areas of the brain. We are only beginning to understand the function of memory, how it relates to who we are, how it is built and maintained and what sorts of things impact how it operates. Reconstructing this vital piece of who we are is simply beyond us at this point.

This means that we have to get better at knowing risks, understanding early signs, and finding ways of mitigating or forestalling the onset. As an example we have been able to beat back the effects of many types of cancer through one crucial factor: early detection. We know that it is no longer an automatic death sentence to hear the words: “You have cancer.” We can treat it, at least some forms of it. But nobody wants to hear that they are predisposed to dementia. That who and what they are can be stolen away from them in slow motion or overnight. With the misunderstanding and discomfort our society has for any mental disability or challenge; the last thing we want to admit is that we might be “losing it.” It is long past time we stopped playing games.

Meryl points out in her book that France, Britain, the EU, Japan, Canada, China and India have all announced national plans to fight Alzheimer’s. Where are we in this battle with all of our vaunted medical expertise? Somehow we have to bring our country back to open debate on real issues affecting ourselves and our future. It is not just the cost of the various forms of dementia; the financial and medical cost doubles or more with the impact on caregivers. Lost employment, lost coverage, and asset depletion all create a burden on families and the country as a whole. Care in a facility can range from $50,000 to over $100,000 a year. In the state of Washington Medicaid will not kick in for the first two years in a facility. In home costs include medical supplies and durable medical equipment. Then there is in-home nursing or caregiving support and, if the caregiver cannot find a way to earn money from home, loss of income from outside employment.

Can we really afford not to be aware? Not to know ourselves enough that our family and friends know our preferences for care before we can no longer decide? Not to take responsibility for the road that may be ahead? I love my husband dearly and I will care for him as long as I am physically able. I would not, however, wish this on anyone else. I know that I may one day be in need of some kind of care and that drives me to work ever harder to build a safety net. There really is no one left for me to fall back on and those that I know of should not be burdened. Let’s find a way to learn when and how to prepare until we know when and how to cure.

Meryl’s organization can be found on the web at: http://www.usagainstalzheimers.org/splash-caregivers


Filed under Caregiving Backstage

Reflections ~ When Letting Go Gives a Firmer Grip

Epiphany. A word misspelled, misused and, sometimes, misunderstood. Its roots lie deep in Latin and relate to a moment of divine manifestation. There is even a feast named Epiphany on January 6. It also means (according to the Oxford Dictionary) a moment of sudden revelation or insight. In my opinion such moments are often life changing. I have experienced both joy and suffering at such times – today it was joy. Today I had an epiphany.

The last few weeks have been rather difficult in our household. My husband has been experiencing a number of deteriorating symptoms as he and I travel in this alternate universe called dementia. It became necessary to put him on a prescription that is meant to calm him. A move I was reluctant to make. But it did become a matter of necessity. Happily it appears to be helping.

He is slower. His communication skills have dropped precipitously. He is quickly losing control over his bodily functions. We have had much learning and adjusting to accomplish. Today he was becoming quite (actually royally) peeved with me because I would not take him to some imagined meeting he could not miss. This went on for a couple of hours and I suddenly realized that I was not upset. I was not tearing my hair out wondering what I was doing wrong. I was not yelling at the top of my lungs that I was doing the best I could. In fact, I started to giggle.

Standing in our kitchen looking at my beloved spouse, now so far from me, I realized that I was doing the best I could. Simple, right? Not really. Any caregiver can tell you that no matter how hard we try, somewhere deep inside we feel inadequate. We are not creating a perfect world for that one person we care so much about. We are not fixing it. And, sadly, we won’t. You know what else? It’s not our fault.

I could not do what he wanted and needed so badly for me to do right that very minute; and I did not feel a single ounce of guilt. Not one drop. At one point I was able to let him talk on the phone with our caregiver (we were setting up times for tomorrow) and he was promised she would be here and they would talk – and it worked. It wasn’t a desperate cry for help, it was a practical solution.

Can I keep this feeling? Cling to it for the release and freedom it gives me? Probably no more so than anyone leaving the Sunday-night revival and heading to work on Monday morning. But now I have a secret. I know what it feels like. And I can get back there. And from that place I will gain strength and I will do the best I can. I did not do this to him. It is not my fault.

Warning: The following clip does contain “South-Boston” language.  It is a scene from Good Will Hunting when Matt Damon and Robin Williams are discussing – it’s not your fault.


Filed under Caregiving Backstage

Reflections ~ The Promises You Keep

One of the things about this sort of therapy is that when you have life-changing events they tend to find their expression in this very private/public way. I have shared the moments of my life with my husband in part to give me voice, and in part to light up the dark cave of this disease with my own tiny flashlight. This past weekend we have, I suppose, passed another milestone.

I think (though I’ll never be certain) it all started when I chose to save a bit of time and stop at a grocery store where, he has decided, the people don’t like him. Things were okay for a short while after we got home and then everything went south. He couldn’t understand after all he had done for me, and knowing how much he cared, that I could have done such a terrible thing. He was leaving. Now.

After an hour of following him back and forth in the street, apologizing to a neighbor after he knocked on the door (twice), and not being able to get him in the car (in hopes of getting him to the clinic) I called 911.

Two patrol cars and a fire truck later things were much calmer. All vitals checked, even though his pulse rate and blood pressure were elevated. He assured the officers, multiple times, that he had not hit me, that he did want to stay, that he didn’t want to lose me. Of course 10 minutes after they were gone he was asking where I had gone.

Sunday was rather calm and I actually got a number of things taken care of. Bits of domestic this and that I rarely have time to do. Then came today, Monday.

He was quite cheery early in the day but he decided that we must have lunch at 9:30. Not wanting to get him stirred up again I complied. Sometime during lunch he decided he had to go. I had already messaged the doctor about an appointment to discuss meds, but with this new outburst it looked like we were on Plan B. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and I needed him with me at the doctor’s. Well, that was Okay if I promised to drop him off on the way back.

I wasn’t going to risk not being able to get him in the car again, so off to the clinic we went a good 2 hours before the appointment. He was extremely nervous anytime I had to leave him alone. When we did get in, he was more communicative with his doctor than he has ever been. Sum total? He didn’t want to lose me. So we did what I swore I would not do until there was no other choice, we got a prescription. That would be for him, not me.

I guess when you think about it, if one of his strongest emotions is that he does not want to lose me, but every time he “sees” me I’m someone different – well, how many times a day does he “lose” me?

I’ve always tried to be honest about my decisions so that others can benefit in some way. I chose not to use medication until the last possible moment due to side effects and the impact they may have on his other health issues. It is also clear to me that the decisions I make in his care are mine to make as long as I am prepared for the consequences. However, when those choices begin to impact those around us I need to rethink my strategy.

In recent weeks I have acquired a number of supporters that are able and willing to help me find the right path for us. Tonight the owners of the home care company I am currently using came to our door. Why? To go over what had happened and to see if that required any changes in the way we had planned support, and to see if I was Okay.

People in my circumstances need to know that they are not alone. Not all areas have the same support systems that are available to me. Not all people have friends and family ready to step in, to listen, or just be around to talk about what is happening or things completely unrelated to your role as a caregiver. And not all people are involved in a company that notices your absence in the daily give and take on social media and start the process to find you and make sure that things are okay. I can, however, tell you, you don’t have to be alone. Really.

Photo Credit Fotosearch.com

Photo Credit Fotosearch.com


Filed under Caregiving Backstage

Reflections ~ On a day gone by

I touch you,

But you’re not there

You miss me

But I’m right here

I die a thousand deaths

as one by one

life’s memories

slip away

One by one,

the things we did

are lost

in a graveyard

of the mind.

Courtesy of WANA Commons, Jenny Kaczorowski

Courtesy of WANA Commons, Jenny Kaczorowski

Happy Anniversary to my one true love, my soul mate, my best friend.
July 12, 2014


Filed under Caregiving Backstage, Personal Journeys

Reflections ~ Sugared Wine and No More Burritos

Courtesy WANA Commons, Lynn Kelley Author

Courtesy WANA Commons, Lynn Kelley Author

I mentioned a change. An adventure into the unknown. Now, it is known. My conclusion? Sugared Wine and No More Burritos. I shall explain.



As mentioned several weeks ago I decided to embark on a trial run with a day center. Some place hubby could be engaged for 4 hours while I did, well, stuff. The first visit was a bit rocky but the center’s administrator and I felt that it was the first visit and the problem may have been that we had not taken the time to reinforce the idea that I was really coming back.

Second week. I spent quite a bit of time reinforcing the idea of the nice exercises, the people to talk to, and the courses for teaching. And, yes I would be back to get him. It went, well, better. Meanwhile, I managed to complete a project at home I had been reluctant to start and ate – a burrito.

Several hours after we arrived home, he came to me and asked me what I thought of the place. I told him I thought it would be good for both of us. He agreed. Then came the 4th of July weekend and no visit.

Today, on the way to the center, I again did the reinforcement thing. Made sure that when I walked him into the room that everything was good and reassured him I would be back. Then I scurried back to the house for 4 hours of uninterrupted focus on my day job. Oh, on the way I picked up what I was beginning to think of as my Friday Burrito.

One load of wash, a burrito, and 30 minutes of actual work later; there’s a knock on the door. Standing in my carport was the lovely lady that I had arranged to see for “caregiving counselling.” When did I start forgetting appointments? No, no, come in, let me just clock out and we’ll have a chat while he’s not here.

It really was a nice chat. I am finding resources that don’t always know the answer right away, but they are willing to find out. So, we chatted about what I would like to accomplish in this world of caregiving. Just about the time we were winding up (she knew my job was tugging me), the phone rang.

Evidently hubby was getting quite agitated and wanted to know where in the dickens I had gotten off to. Unknown to me, he was agitated enough to raise his voice. Say bye to nice lady and ask her to check on in-home resources, flip laundry, hop in car, hit every traffic light in red mode and arrive at center.

The moment he sees me he becomes Mr. Jovial, laughing, teasing and flirting. Well, it’s not exactly the point that I go with him, now is it? Deep sigh. Request for other resources if they know of any. Drive home with Mr. Happy Face.

After an afternoon of trying to catch up on poor neglected Day Job I finally decide to soak and fix something for dinner. As is usual, my wine is waiting on the dining room table, this time in a cup. Whatever, it still tastes the same – or does it? On the off chance I am poisoning myself with copious amounts of something-related-to-sugar I stick my finger in the bottom of the cup. Umm, no. One does not need half a cup of sugar with white wine of any vintage. *Sigh.* I think I’ll go prepare chicken with his favorite maple syrup sauce and find the wine bottle.

Courtesy WANA Commons, Jenn Smitherman

Courtesy WANA Commons, Jenn Smitherman


Filed under Caregiving Backstage

Change is the only constant

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

A good observer, Heraclitus. Writing in 500 BCE he felt that only the philosopher, the pursuer of truth, was fully alive. I, as an observer and an amateur philosopher, beg to differ. Living is often far too complex for the luxury of contemplation; and yet it is that contemplation that keeps us on the path to who we are.

Change, and no change, is something I deal with daily. It is really imperative that I at least attempt to stick to a regimental routine in order to keep my husband comfortable and less subject to aggravation. I’m about to change that routine.

It has been becoming rather apparent that a bit of “air” would be a very good thing. The lovely folks at the local chapter of the Alzheimer’s Association have suggested, rather strongly, that I seek some form of respite care. I really don’t face some of the problems that many do in my circumstances. My husband is, basically, quite healthy. However, when he gets focused on something, and nothing I can do can redirect him, well, it does get a bit intense. It is, I suppose, time to give us both a bit of a break.

I have found a number of helpful people in the organization. Some of whom make suggestions that are not suited to my goals. Some, however, are very much on point. With their help I have determined that it is quite possible to give my husband some time, once a week, to be with other people. Some of whom were in professional careers before they found themselves derailed by mental illness. It might just work. This week is the trial run.

That’s the scary part. Although he will insist at times that he has to go somewhere else, that he is getting kicked out, or any other number of theories that places him away from our home; he is quite frightened when faced with the possibility that I might leave him. This is a major step for both of us. Me taking him somewhere and leaving him with strangers – leaving him – all alone.

I am told that I should use the time for me, take a nap, write — do something with some sense of freedom. I’m afraid that after 3 ½ years it might take some practice. I approach this whole event with some trepidation. But I know that letting go in small ways is part of making it possible to keep him with me. I may have found people who understand that and will help me make it happen.

photo credit: Flickr CreativeCommons


Filed under Caregiving Backstage, Personal Journeys

30 Cubed – The Patient


Damon lay on the bed, his eyes still closed. He did not remember how he had gotten here, but he seemed to remember many other things in detail. The cake his mother made on his 5th birthday. The first badge he earned as an Eagle Scout, miscellaneous bit and pieces of a life he felt was his floating through his mind as if they had happened, well, yesterday.

He heard a door open and soon his wrist was contained in a firm but gentle grip. Opening his eyes he saw a man in a white coat taking his pulse.

“Well, good morning, Damon. It’s nice of you to join us.”

“If you know who I am, would you mind telling me where I am?”

“You are in the Molaison Clinic. When you are ready, I will try to explain what has happened to you.”

“Well, I don’t have any appointments that I’m aware of, so now seems to be a good time.”

The man in white made a note on a chart, placed it in a pocket near the door and drew a chair near the bed. As he settled into his seat he introduced himself as Dr. Cat, short for a lovely long Italian name that no one ever got right.

“Well, you see, Damon, you have been suffering from early onset vascular dementia. For, oh, the last two or three years you have been wandering through the world rather incapable of linking things around you with things in your head. You did not recognize people near to you. You could not remember vast portions of your life, you were unable to take care of yourself in any functional way.

Your family was contacted by our clinic in order to conduct a medical trial. Because of your age, you make an excellent subject. You are under 65, in good health, and you have lived a life that was fairly well documented. You have been active in social networks and your photographic history and communications have been maintained in electronic files. We really couldn’t ask for a more perfect subject.”

Damon pushed himself up in the bed, a slight headache making his eyes blur. “At moments like these I have to wonder if it was safe to give a durable power of attorney to my wife. Just what kind of experiment is going on here?”

“Well, you see,” Dr. Cat smiled, “six months ago you didn’t even remember you had a wife.” During the next hour the doctor explained how Damon had been brought to the clinic. How the damage caused by mini-strokes and loss of blood flow had been repaired. Then the doctors carefully encouraged growth of new brain tissue. The last stage was to use new technology to “upload” all the collected electronic data about Damon’s life that his family had been able to gather. It was an effort to “jump start” the hippocampus in to functioning as it should as keeper of memories, a vital part of what makes a person who they are.

During the next week, Damon was tested extensively and, in the end, deemed well enough to return home. Dr. Cat was sure the program was a success and began to plan further studies.

Several weeks later Dr. Cat drove into the Clinic parking lot prepared to start work early. He had received additional funding and was planning his next round of tests. Applications were already coming in. As he approached the door he saw a figure huddled near the threshold, grasping a prescription bottle tightly, rocking back and forth in some apparent fugue.

“Hey, there. Move on, or I’ll call the police.” No response. He approached a bit closer and barely recognized his patient of some weeks before. There was a note pinned to his jacket.

Dear Dr. Cat.

Before you inflict this sort of thing upon another family I beg you to reconsider. We don’t blame you, for who could have known? At least I take comfort in believing you would not have known. Do you have any idea what it is like to live with someone who possesses a perfect memory? What it is like to have everything you have done in the last 20-30 years recited in explicit detail and not always at opportune moments? You cannot shut him up! The moment a memory pops in his head it pops out of his mouth. The consequences can be devastating, I simply can’t go on this way. Oh, and I’m sorry if I did something wrong, but I may have given him too many of his pain pills. I sincerely hope you can help him; but, please, don’t send him back home.”

Sincerely, Mrs. D. Johns.


Filed under My Fiction - Very Short Fiction