Hello all..
I'm just wondering how people cope when dealing with a PWD who experiences paranoia and persecution delusions. I'm not doing too well with it.
My story...
Last August my 87 year old mother had the "dreaded fall" and broke her ankle. While in hospital it was recommended she be assessed (she was having some word issues) and while there she had what I believe to be a hospital induced delirium. This was horrible as she was convinced a fake doctor took old people down to the basement to kill them and she tried to escape during the night on several occasions as she was next on his list. Within a couple of weeks my mom went from independent and happy to a basket case.
We were told basically "Sorry to give you bad news but you have dementia. Well, good luck with that". My mother had lived in her house since 1956 and had been alone for the last 3 years since Dad passed. I knew she had some "quirkiness" but this diagnosis (VaD with likely AD) caught me completely off guard.
I'm an only child, work full time and quite honestly have almost zero ability to care for someone. I get so worked up so fast as to become next to useless. We have absolutely no one else left in the family and my mother certainly needed 24hr supervision at this point. Managed to get her into some convalescence care at a nice local CH, on their memory care floor. I had hoped that being in a private room might alleviate this paranoia but, alas, the bad doctor came along for the ride and became now the bad owner of the house/hospital (which is what she refers the CH as) who took old people to the basement to kill them and then bury them in the field across the road. (Stephen King should interview my mom).
At this point I had no idea what to do. The convalescence period was ending. At one point the only thing I could think of was to quit my job, look after my mom (somehow) and then when she died I'd have nothing left so I'd just kill myself. That's were my frame of mind was (book me a room at the CH!!!). It took a while to realize the answer was in front of me - that she would have to stay at the CH. The thought of putting her in a "home" was absolutely crushing.
My mother asked, demanded and begged for me to take her back to her house, demanded to know what "contract" I had signed with "him" (meaning the bad owner). She told of plots against her by other residents and staff, everyone whispering about her, how cruel I was, how much of a mess I had made of things etc. If a nurse had come in she would have come running back with a tranquilizer - for ME!! Mom had her things stuffed into bags ready to go all the time. I didn't have a phone set up for her as I figured she'd "phone bomb" me or call 911 and felt crappy doing that. I tried to reason (we all know how well THAT works), I tried to go along with the stortyline (that didn't work either). Its a completely No win situation. I felt totally shell shocked.
Around mid-January, things started to get better. The paranoia started to subside, the death and murder evolved into monetary schemes, then into some weird thing about water and finally into nothing. Talk of "him" faded away. My mom was (almost) happy, enjoyed the many activities and dog visits. Her confusion was still evident at times and her ability of comprehend date and time is shot now, but otherwise visits became tolerable and then almost enjoyable.
At the end of May one of the ladies at the CH, whom my mother had become very friendly with, left (oh no!). Each visit since has become a little bit darker until last night's. I was no sooner in the room when she said "there's bad things going on here", and the plots started to come out, and the nurses are giving her pills she doesn't need, she has clothes in a bag under the bed. She asked when the contract is up so she can go home and then she mentioned "him".
I guess it was at that point when I realized for certain where this was heading. Without warning I just started bawling like a baby. Quite embarrassing really, 49 year old man like this. My mother, seeing how I was so upset, started to cry and trying to comfort ME! What a pair...
So we are back on the paranoia road after a 5 month break. I have no idea how I'll handle this (not well if last night's events are any indication).
I'm just wondering how people cope when dealing with a PWD who experiences paranoia and persecution delusions. I'm not doing too well with it.
My story...
Last August my 87 year old mother had the "dreaded fall" and broke her ankle. While in hospital it was recommended she be assessed (she was having some word issues) and while there she had what I believe to be a hospital induced delirium. This was horrible as she was convinced a fake doctor took old people down to the basement to kill them and she tried to escape during the night on several occasions as she was next on his list. Within a couple of weeks my mom went from independent and happy to a basket case.
We were told basically "Sorry to give you bad news but you have dementia. Well, good luck with that". My mother had lived in her house since 1956 and had been alone for the last 3 years since Dad passed. I knew she had some "quirkiness" but this diagnosis (VaD with likely AD) caught me completely off guard.
I'm an only child, work full time and quite honestly have almost zero ability to care for someone. I get so worked up so fast as to become next to useless. We have absolutely no one else left in the family and my mother certainly needed 24hr supervision at this point. Managed to get her into some convalescence care at a nice local CH, on their memory care floor. I had hoped that being in a private room might alleviate this paranoia but, alas, the bad doctor came along for the ride and became now the bad owner of the house/hospital (which is what she refers the CH as) who took old people to the basement to kill them and then bury them in the field across the road. (Stephen King should interview my mom).
At this point I had no idea what to do. The convalescence period was ending. At one point the only thing I could think of was to quit my job, look after my mom (somehow) and then when she died I'd have nothing left so I'd just kill myself. That's were my frame of mind was (book me a room at the CH!!!). It took a while to realize the answer was in front of me - that she would have to stay at the CH. The thought of putting her in a "home" was absolutely crushing.
My mother asked, demanded and begged for me to take her back to her house, demanded to know what "contract" I had signed with "him" (meaning the bad owner). She told of plots against her by other residents and staff, everyone whispering about her, how cruel I was, how much of a mess I had made of things etc. If a nurse had come in she would have come running back with a tranquilizer - for ME!! Mom had her things stuffed into bags ready to go all the time. I didn't have a phone set up for her as I figured she'd "phone bomb" me or call 911 and felt crappy doing that. I tried to reason (we all know how well THAT works), I tried to go along with the stortyline (that didn't work either). Its a completely No win situation. I felt totally shell shocked.
Around mid-January, things started to get better. The paranoia started to subside, the death and murder evolved into monetary schemes, then into some weird thing about water and finally into nothing. Talk of "him" faded away. My mom was (almost) happy, enjoyed the many activities and dog visits. Her confusion was still evident at times and her ability of comprehend date and time is shot now, but otherwise visits became tolerable and then almost enjoyable.
At the end of May one of the ladies at the CH, whom my mother had become very friendly with, left (oh no!). Each visit since has become a little bit darker until last night's. I was no sooner in the room when she said "there's bad things going on here", and the plots started to come out, and the nurses are giving her pills she doesn't need, she has clothes in a bag under the bed. She asked when the contract is up so she can go home and then she mentioned "him".
I guess it was at that point when I realized for certain where this was heading. Without warning I just started bawling like a baby. Quite embarrassing really, 49 year old man like this. My mother, seeing how I was so upset, started to cry and trying to comfort ME! What a pair...
So we are back on the paranoia road after a 5 month break. I have no idea how I'll handle this (not well if last night's events are any indication).
