Photo by Khorena Sanders on Unsplash Author’s Note: This post is part two of a two-part series. Check out part one at this link, then pick up the story below. For one of the first times ever, I posted a brief summary of my concern on the Facebook support group I had recently joined for spouses or partners of those with frontotemporal degeneration (FTD). By this time, my kids and I had looked at the symptoms of FTD, behavioral type, and been amazed. After months and years of trying to find out what was wrong, here was a disease that looked like a perfect match. Why had no one mentioned this before? We’d have to wait for more testing, but it certainly looked like this was a possibility. I may write more about this later, but this group was rapidly becoming an information source, sounding board and source of encouragement for me. And this case, it was a lifeline. I shared the various driving-related incidents that had occurred and that we still didn’t have a real diagnosis or definitive answer. But to a person, everyone who responded (and there were more than 40 who did) to my question said: Do it now. Don’t delay. Keep him from driving no matter what. I read stories of accidents, of liabilities, of spouses who were still driving and had major problems. I read of doctors who refused to say the FTD patient needed to give up their license, only to have an accident occur. But mostly, I read what I’d already read on this site: Our story. And I knew it was time. I shared all this information (what had happened with their dad and driving, what our former pastor had said, what the other spouses had said) in brief with the next set of reinforcements I called in: Our children. I am sure I sounded at least somewhat irrational (after all, by this point, I probably had sleep deprivation.) But I could not in good conscience keep letting Tom out on the road. Or could I? I knew I needed the wise counsel of those who also loved him and wanted his best. I didn’t want to mess this up. I don’t actually remember which of our children I contacted, but I do know they all agreed to “talk amongst themselves.” The conclusion? No, Dad should not drive. Yes, they should help me tell him. Our two oldest daughters suggested they initiate a Skype call with Tom and me (this was before Zoom had reached its present-day popularity). “After all,” said one, not quite tongue-in-cheek. “He’ll know we must be serious if the two of us agree.” We made the call....

Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash Before we could return to neurologist No. 3 for the second time, a crisis occurred that forced our family into a huge decision. At this point, Tom was still driving. In fact, he was driving for a ride-share company. Sounds crazy for someone who might have dementia, right? Well, yes. And no. Think about it. He had lost three jobs in quick succession. Where could he find work? He loved to drive. And although he struggled with directions now, God and GPS cover a multitude of sins. Add that to the fact that no doctor had diagnosed any specific problem beyond depression, and you’ll see why (although I did have concerns) Tom remained on the road. I discussed Tom’s driving with my adult children (for a while, I had noticed him following more closely than he should) and they agreed that removing driving privileges would be difficult. When necessary, maybe a doctor could make that decision, but not right now. That was our plan. So yes, I’ll go ahead and say it: We were wrong. And I apologize to anyone I may have unknowingly scared or hurt because we were not more proactive. And I pray—and fear—for all of those who may be endangered by those still in the diagnosis or pre-diagnosis process with a disease like Tom’s. I’m convinced; there are many still on the road who should not be. Here’s what happened. Tom was driving for the rideshare company and quite happy to do so. I wasn’t as happy, because he was staying out for longer and longer periods of time. He had a certain daily financial goal, and he would stay out until he reached it. No. Matter. What. Of course, I didn’t know then about the obsessions his type of dementia (frontotemporal degeneration, or FTD) causes (read more about that in this post.) His desire to work and the low pay rate played right into this. The more he drove, the more he wanted to drive. And although I didn’t realize it at the time, I now know he didn’t have the logic or understanding to think, I’m tired. I should stop driving. I need to go home. For him, it truly was all about the money. He was so happy to contribute to our family finances again that he would drive. And drive. And sleep at the side of the road. And drive. As days and weeks passed, I became more and more concerned about his hours. I had more than one serious talk with him where he would promise to “only” work eight hours. Of course, he never kept those promises. At the time, I thought he...