Please read my stories with an open mind and heart. I write these stories as entertainment and to record my stories as a carer not to blame or offend anyone.
His good days, Mr.J. spends remembering the past. He recalls his childhood places, the Golden valley where he grew up, the gorgeous Abbey – he showed me the pictures – where he pumped the organ and helped his father digging graves, meadows where he strolled with his wife-to-be … He goes through the pictures and documents of the past daily remembering. Or he listens to Glenn Miller Orchestra and recalls the dances he attended with his charming fiancé.
The present for him is just a momentary sensation that does not stay with him and does not form memories any more. He can only indulge repeatedly in the events of the distant past.
Dementia is like a plague that only diseases one organism. It slowly sucks up all the memory cells until there is nothing left but bare bewilderment. It eventually renounces its pray with an empty stare into the distance without any recollection of identity. It chews up every shred of personality and leaves the person naked down to a state of a new-born in an aged body.