I’m tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was ruthlessly jerked awake at six-thirty in the morning by a phone call. I groggily listened to who it was, expecting it to be spam. Nope. It was my father saying , “Hello, hello?” in a very vacant tone. I could hear my mother saying something in the background, but it was in Taiwanese. This was on my voicemail, by the way. I tried to forget it and fall asleep again. Juuuuuuust as I drifted off, my phone rang again. It was my father. Again. with my mother talking in the background. Again.
I tried to fall asleep, but it wasn’t easy. When I woke up, I had an email from my mother explaining that my father insisted on talking to ‘Minna’s mother’, who, apparently lived with me–and that he wanted to go home. My mother said she tried to tell him no and said that I was probably asleep. That upset him so she called me twice for him.
Then she called my brother who was able to mollify my father. My mother concluded by saying that my father calmed down and fell asleep. She concluded by saying that she hoped he would sleep through the night. You may notice that there wasn’t any apology to me or any acknowledgement that she fucking interrupted MY sleep. Twice. Nope. That wasn’t an issue in her mind, apparently.
As I have said before, it’s clear that my father is the only person who matters to her. When they were here last, I realized that she would cheerfully sacrifice me if it benefited my father. I didn’t expect it to be so blatant, though. My sleep didn’t matter to her if my father was agitated.
Here’s where the title of the post comes into play. She’s a psychologist. She should know about dementia, but…she doesn’t. I know it’s different when it’s someone you love, but she stubbornly refuses to believe the basic truths about dementia. One, don’t argue with the patient about whatever they’re saying. They won’t understand why you’re arguing, and it just makes it worse for them. She says she can’t lie to him, but it’s not lying if he doesn’t recognize the truth.
Another issue is that she doesn’t have many tools in her toolbox. I will say without hesitation that dementia is brutal. It’s hard to deal with, especially as she is old and not in the best health herself. And she’s in a society that believes dementia is a moral failing, not a disease. That means that there are not as many resources for it in Taiwan than in America.
The bigger issue, though, is that she can be her own worst enemy. I recognize this because I do it myself. On the one hand, I tend to catastrophize. I think about the worst possible outcome and fixate on it. On the other hand, I don’t prepare for the outcomes that will probably actually happen–especially if they’re negative. I try not to think about it, but let the disaster scenarios play in my mind instead.