A short Story and a poem on Dementia!

 1.My Father, who was not there

(This short story is dedicated to the care-givers of Dementia patients)

     My father was my best friend. He was somebody on whom I had relied upon, in almost every situation. He was the one who gave me great advice so that I could succeed in almost every aspect of my life. My mother had died many years ago and he was the only one I had. He had helped me to choose the companies that I worked with. He was always the first one to accept my eccentric choices in life. He was the apple of my eye.  He was a doting father. 

      He had retired from service, ten years ago. Every day, he had the habit of waiting for me to return from work. He was always there, at the gates of our small bungalow – waiting for me. But today, my father was not there at the place, where he would be waiting for me.Today, there was no one, waiting to receive me at the gates of my house. I was flummoxed because he had never missed this routine of waiting for me at the gates of our house for the past many years. In fact, that very morning, my father had said, “I will be waiting for you as usual. I will prepare some sweet delicacy for you. Remember, it is your birthday, today.” Now, I felt that something was amiss! My father always kept his word.

   My search began. First, I visited the house of Raja uncle, our neighbour. I asked if my father was in his home. He replied in the negative. I received the same answer in over a dozen places of our acquaintance. The sun was beginning to set. I was beginning to feel worried. I, then remembered, how my father’s behaviour had turned a bit quaint over the past few months. I remembered, now that of late, he had become more forgetful. I remembered that of late, he seemed to have lost his desire to meet his old friends. He had said many times, “Friends will come and go but you are my true treasure.” Many times, he had put salt into our cups of coffee and tea, instead of sugar. I remembered him muttering, “I am sorry,” under his breath, whenever he had fallen prey to his spells of memory loss. These were small and subtle changes but they had been continuous ones. I had not noticed these warning signs. I remembered my father telling me, “Son, the future is always uncertain. Take the next right step, now. Let us seize the present.” The reason for my callousness was that in spite of the several spells of forgetfulness and confusion, he had never missed his routine of waiting for me at the gates of our house. And that one sign had misled me.

     It was at that moment that I decided to register a case with the local police to locate my father. We found him, finally. He was wandering, a few kilometres away from our house. I realised the gravity of the situation. I took my father to a good general physician, who told us to consult a particular neurologist. The neurologist said that my father was suffering from dementia. Initially, I was heartbroken. But I was also a bit relieved. At least, now we knew what his ailment was! We, the caregivers and the doctor would together, take good care of my father. We would help him in his new journey!

Dr.S.Padmapriya

2. I keep forgetting....

     (Poem)

‘Now, where is Chechnya?

I must find my geography book,

I don’t remember clearly –

Maybe it is near America...hmmm..

Wait....wait...

Perhaps, it is near Russia,

I don’t remember having visited the place.

My home?

I think it is in India,

Wait...why am I thinking about these matters?

This woman near me on this road,

Does not look like my Geography teacher,

Oh...My God, my folks are right...

They keep saying that I have....well....?

What was it? Mania...?

Ccchhhkkk....hysteria...ah! Amnesia...

Ah! Now I remember...

Dementia!

 

Dr.S.Padmapriya