Snapshots of Dementia: Learning the Hard Way
As the mom of five children, I’ve said more than once over the years that one or more of them “had to learn things the hard way.” Sometimes I chose not to tell them what I thought was a useful, even essential piece of information because I realized they wouldn’t receive it. At that point in their lives, I knew they had to learn things the hard way. And—like many of us before them—they did just that.
After all this time, I’ve discovered, much to my chagrin, that I’m also someone who has to learn things the hard way. We have an upright freezer in our garage. A few months ago, Tom forgot to close the freezer door, and we lost several cartons of ice cream before I discovered it.
“Mom, you can get an alarm for the freezer,” my son told me. “It would let you know whenever the door was standing open.”
“Oh, I don’t think we need that,” I said. Especially because of Tom’s memory loss, I have often appreciated the alarm on our refrigerator door, but a garage alarm seemed like overkill. I could always check on the door after Tom used the freezer. And he didn’t go out there too often anyway. Why spend the money on an alarm?
You guessed it. He left the door open again a few months later. This time, I caught it fairly soon and closed it before any food was damaged.
And it happened again—because a box fell over and held the door open after I used the freezer. This time, I had to wash and replace everything on the door and a few things inside the freezer too.
But I still didn’t buy an alarm. It was my mistake, I reasoned. I’ll just make sure no boxes get in the way. I carefully cleaned and rearranged the entire freezer before filling it up again. I found myself checking and rechecking the door whenever one of us used the freezer to make sure we had no further problems. After all, I didn’t want to go through the mess or expense again.
Ice cream remains one of Tom’s favorites, and as with most of his comfort foods, he feels much more secure if we have plenty on hand. This means we keep six or eight cartons of ice cream in that outside freezer (he doesn’t think they stay cold enough in the freezer at the bottom of our refrigerator). Years ago, I got into the habit of buying meats and other items ahead of time, and I also freeze soups, homemade pizza crusts, and other meals or ingredients so I don’t have to cook every night. In other words, we make good use of our freezer.
Except when we don’t. Except when Tom gets himself some ice cream while I’m working late one evening, and I don’t think to check the freezer. Except when the door stays open a few inches all night long. Except when I don’t notice the open door till I’m putting the trash out the next morning and realize that, once again, we have several cartons of ice cream soup on the door and more of the sweet sludge in the bottom of the freezer.
The other day, I posted a meme expressing my thanks for the gift of laughter. As I threw out the trash and mopped up the mess, I realized how foolish I’d been not to purchase an alarm when our son first suggested it. And all I could do was laugh. Had I thought Tom’s memory was suddenly going to improve? That he’d stop going out to get ice cream, no matter how much his legs hurt? That I would always, without fail, notice when he (or I) left the freezer open?
In the case of dementia (and most other situations), magical thinking does no one any favors. Had I bought it a few months ago, the $29 I spent on a freezer alarm this week could have saved me quite a bit more—if only I hadn’t had to learn the hard way.
If you or someone you know is living with dementia, what have you had to learn the hard way? Have you had struggles with doors being left open, cabinets unclosed, or food spoiling on the counter or elsewhere? Tom’s memory loss has cost us both time and money here and there, but there are tools that can help. Our story matters—and so does yours.
