There are still so many things I experienced with my partner I still haven’t mentioned, but I feel I must do so just in case this will help others begin to understand sooner rather than later – as it was in my case.
Because of my partner’s short-term memory loss (I noticed that from the very start, but failed to realise what it meant – or preferred not to!), I found Marquita (I’ve called her that rather than just ‘partner’!) depending on me more and more. Or to put it another way keeping her out of trouble due to her inability to make sound decisions. For example, a few months before we me in 2012, she’d had her Combi gas boiler serviced twice in that year, when it only required an annual service. The gas fitters, however, were happy to take her money – no questions asked! That, my friends, was what I was up against!
Now, some of the details which follow are of an ‘intimate’ nature, but, please, do not think for one momwent, I’m mentioning these because they may be misinterpreted as ‘salacious’, because I am not. When we come to them they are my experiences of certain matters which need to be mentioned because they are directly related – or it is my belief – to Marquita’s dementia, and may explain things to others.
But, first of all, I will mention the embarrassing times I’ve experienced accompanying my partner to the doctor’s.
I thin we had only been an ‘item’ for a week or two when Marquita insisted I went in with her to see her doctor. On this occasion it was to do with her ankle, which she was convinced was broken. It wasn’t, of course!
Her reason for wanting me there was because she said Dr W***s was always rude to her, and she wanted me there as a witness.
When we were called, the doctor looked at me in a strange way, which made me feel quite embarrassed. I quickly explained I was Marquita’s partner and I was there at her request. Of course, the doctor found nothing wrong with Marquita’s ankle!
When we left, Marquita said to me: “There! Dr W***s was quite civil to me, wasn’t she? It was because YOU were there!”
In October 2012, she went to see another doctor, as she said she didn’t trust her previous one. This, again was to do with her ankle, which Dr A******n examined. Nothing wrong again, apart from a slight swelling. Then, out of the blue, Marquita began insisting she had a ‘weak heart’! Dr A then began sifting through pages and pages of her notes, holding then up for her to see.
“I cannot see any mention of a weak heart,” he said, turning to us both. “What makes you think that?”
“I definitely have a weak heart,” she replied, adamantly, “ because I was told so be Mr R**s, a consultant, in 1977!”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say; then, without warning, Marquita asked: “Would it be all right for me to have intercourse, then?”
I coloured up (it was the first I’d heard of it!) and the doctor choked. “I can see no reason not to,” he replied, looking at me!
Now, it is inappropriate for me to continue with this story, but let’s just say it did occur – the very next day – but not at my insistence! I was more or less ‘ordered’ what to do, and given a ‘menu’ of things she did and didn’t do, which sounded extremely strange to me. I began to wonder, then, what I had got myself into, I have to admit.
Later, following my research, I was to discover that there is a clear link between sex – in all its forms – and dementia. For instance, certain inappropriate words or actions would be used at times (Marquita certainly did), whilst, normally, things would be totally different. It is so difficult to explain without resorting to unacceptable words or detailed descriptions, so I do hope you can read between the lines.
Getting back to visiting the doctor’s; Marquita had changed surgeries and doctors several times, as they only had to say the wrong thing and she would accuse them of negligence and report them to the BMA.
Eventually, I persuaded her to sign up with my doctor, which she did. At first she thought he was lovely, which pleased me as he is a very conscientious doctor. Then she – or, rather, we – went to see him with her ‘heart problem’ again. Dr F*****y could find nothing wrong, but suggested an ECG and blood tests – both of which were normal.
Suddenly, with me sitting there, she complained of ‘soreness’ in an intimate place! I never knew this was coming, I can tell you, and again. I coloured up!
He prescribed an ointment, to be ‘administered’ internally. All was well until she read to instructions. “I can’t use this!” she screamed at me, “it’s HRT stuff, and it says not to be used if you’ve had cancer – and I’ve had womb cancer!”
Whether she had, or not, I don’t know but then, it seemed to me, she’d had just about everything going!
Then she continued: “That doctor should have known better, he didn’t even bother to read my notes – I don’t want to see him again!”
Yet another doctor, it seemed, had bitten the dust and had become, yet another, subject of Marquita’s paranoia.
There were several more events that happened, with me present, but they are too intimate for me to mention here. This paranoia of the medical profession, I was to discover, had been going on for years – at least as early as 2001. Marquita had a growing mistrust of everyone and, as you may have discovered if you’ve read my earlier threads’ it was soon to be my turn.
We are apart now – but, given the opportunity, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her – although it seems, after nine weeks in a secure hospital, the authorities (against all my letters warning them of their actions!) are considering sending her home to her house. She has already been seen – possibly with a carer – close to her house, so I guess they are preparing to discharge her. Her neighbours have told me they are fearing her return as ‘anything could happen’ and ‘possibly will’.
At the end of the day, I will do all I can for her but, at the moment, as many of you may already have gathered, she has expressed she wishes no more to do with me. Perhaps I can do no more, but we shall see. My Methodist minister is trying to intervene on my behalf (as the authorities are not acknowledging my letters or phone calls), but this may prove impossible as well as Marquita is an atheist of very long-standing.
And so, my dilemma continues, I’m afraid. Does anyone have any other suggestions; apart from just call it a day?
Why did it take so long for me to realise something was wrong? Why didn't I walk away sooner, as now my friends have asked?
Love is a funny thing, I guess, and that's the reason I still feel I cannot walk away now. However, perhaps Marquita may have made that decision for me already? And that will be the hardest part of all - accepting she doesn't want me in her life to give her the love and support only I can give...!
Because of my partner’s short-term memory loss (I noticed that from the very start, but failed to realise what it meant – or preferred not to!), I found Marquita (I’ve called her that rather than just ‘partner’!) depending on me more and more. Or to put it another way keeping her out of trouble due to her inability to make sound decisions. For example, a few months before we me in 2012, she’d had her Combi gas boiler serviced twice in that year, when it only required an annual service. The gas fitters, however, were happy to take her money – no questions asked! That, my friends, was what I was up against!
Now, some of the details which follow are of an ‘intimate’ nature, but, please, do not think for one momwent, I’m mentioning these because they may be misinterpreted as ‘salacious’, because I am not. When we come to them they are my experiences of certain matters which need to be mentioned because they are directly related – or it is my belief – to Marquita’s dementia, and may explain things to others.
But, first of all, I will mention the embarrassing times I’ve experienced accompanying my partner to the doctor’s.
I thin we had only been an ‘item’ for a week or two when Marquita insisted I went in with her to see her doctor. On this occasion it was to do with her ankle, which she was convinced was broken. It wasn’t, of course!
Her reason for wanting me there was because she said Dr W***s was always rude to her, and she wanted me there as a witness.
When we were called, the doctor looked at me in a strange way, which made me feel quite embarrassed. I quickly explained I was Marquita’s partner and I was there at her request. Of course, the doctor found nothing wrong with Marquita’s ankle!
When we left, Marquita said to me: “There! Dr W***s was quite civil to me, wasn’t she? It was because YOU were there!”
In October 2012, she went to see another doctor, as she said she didn’t trust her previous one. This, again was to do with her ankle, which Dr A******n examined. Nothing wrong again, apart from a slight swelling. Then, out of the blue, Marquita began insisting she had a ‘weak heart’! Dr A then began sifting through pages and pages of her notes, holding then up for her to see.
“I cannot see any mention of a weak heart,” he said, turning to us both. “What makes you think that?”
“I definitely have a weak heart,” she replied, adamantly, “ because I was told so be Mr R**s, a consultant, in 1977!”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say; then, without warning, Marquita asked: “Would it be all right for me to have intercourse, then?”
I coloured up (it was the first I’d heard of it!) and the doctor choked. “I can see no reason not to,” he replied, looking at me!
Now, it is inappropriate for me to continue with this story, but let’s just say it did occur – the very next day – but not at my insistence! I was more or less ‘ordered’ what to do, and given a ‘menu’ of things she did and didn’t do, which sounded extremely strange to me. I began to wonder, then, what I had got myself into, I have to admit.
Later, following my research, I was to discover that there is a clear link between sex – in all its forms – and dementia. For instance, certain inappropriate words or actions would be used at times (Marquita certainly did), whilst, normally, things would be totally different. It is so difficult to explain without resorting to unacceptable words or detailed descriptions, so I do hope you can read between the lines.
Getting back to visiting the doctor’s; Marquita had changed surgeries and doctors several times, as they only had to say the wrong thing and she would accuse them of negligence and report them to the BMA.
Eventually, I persuaded her to sign up with my doctor, which she did. At first she thought he was lovely, which pleased me as he is a very conscientious doctor. Then she – or, rather, we – went to see him with her ‘heart problem’ again. Dr F*****y could find nothing wrong, but suggested an ECG and blood tests – both of which were normal.
Suddenly, with me sitting there, she complained of ‘soreness’ in an intimate place! I never knew this was coming, I can tell you, and again. I coloured up!
He prescribed an ointment, to be ‘administered’ internally. All was well until she read to instructions. “I can’t use this!” she screamed at me, “it’s HRT stuff, and it says not to be used if you’ve had cancer – and I’ve had womb cancer!”
Whether she had, or not, I don’t know but then, it seemed to me, she’d had just about everything going!
Then she continued: “That doctor should have known better, he didn’t even bother to read my notes – I don’t want to see him again!”
Yet another doctor, it seemed, had bitten the dust and had become, yet another, subject of Marquita’s paranoia.
There were several more events that happened, with me present, but they are too intimate for me to mention here. This paranoia of the medical profession, I was to discover, had been going on for years – at least as early as 2001. Marquita had a growing mistrust of everyone and, as you may have discovered if you’ve read my earlier threads’ it was soon to be my turn.
We are apart now – but, given the opportunity, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her – although it seems, after nine weeks in a secure hospital, the authorities (against all my letters warning them of their actions!) are considering sending her home to her house. She has already been seen – possibly with a carer – close to her house, so I guess they are preparing to discharge her. Her neighbours have told me they are fearing her return as ‘anything could happen’ and ‘possibly will’.
At the end of the day, I will do all I can for her but, at the moment, as many of you may already have gathered, she has expressed she wishes no more to do with me. Perhaps I can do no more, but we shall see. My Methodist minister is trying to intervene on my behalf (as the authorities are not acknowledging my letters or phone calls), but this may prove impossible as well as Marquita is an atheist of very long-standing.
And so, my dilemma continues, I’m afraid. Does anyone have any other suggestions; apart from just call it a day?
Why did it take so long for me to realise something was wrong? Why didn't I walk away sooner, as now my friends have asked?
Love is a funny thing, I guess, and that's the reason I still feel I cannot walk away now. However, perhaps Marquita may have made that decision for me already? And that will be the hardest part of all - accepting she doesn't want me in her life to give her the love and support only I can give...!
