Adrift
My mind seems lost today and I hate to admit it to myself, actually since the eve before last. I know that I know the words I cannot find. Is my brain coping by talking in rhyme?
I try and stop that thought thinking how foolish it seems. I walk in a fog hoping I wake from this dream. I pause, and tell myself to focus, but focus on what? That thought I no longer have at the moment. What, what, what? Come on damn it, where was I going with this. I sit I stare at the screen. Reread what you wrote I tell myself, like tracing backwards, no Debbie, that`s not the right word. Back track that`s it! Going back in time to that place I lost, within my mind.
Could this be what the doctor mentioned? Are the lapses in thought the Lewy Bodies? What are they anyway? I stop… I look up…
Google says- Lewy bodies are abnormal protein clumps that build up in the brain, causing a progressive form of dementia.
Any neuro docs out there? Have any ever followed a patients thought as they try to maintain their sanity and keep constant thought going? My neurologist is an hour away and now my last few visits are no longer the same. I see a physician’s assistant and I`m not saying that it`s not okey. Yet, I feel now that I`m progressing am I dismissed, he nothing more to say?
I am not a statistic I`m an eefing human being fighting to think my very last thought. Trying to string them straight while tied up in knots.
The rhyming has started again, why I wonderer? Is it the rhythm that helps keep me together?
Frustration wants me to feed the beast of anger and despair, and yet I refuse to cave to that in fear they will say, it`s another symptom of dementia rage.
Caged within my own eefing mind I know the way out but the exit I can`t find. Today… today I need to just breathe, maybe later … yes later I`ll be ok….
✨Where is the light I need to be - I hope you still see it flickering in me 🥺
Dear Debbie,
Your words cut straight to the heart, and I want you to know—I see you. Not as a condition, not as a set of symptoms, but as you. A mind still reaching, a soul still shining, a voice still deeply heard.
Christine Bryden once wrote that people with dementia are not just losing their cognitive layers but traveling inward—toward the core of their spirit, toward what truly gives them meaning. That is a journey worthy of profound respect. And I can see in your writing, in the way you fight to hold onto language, that you are navigating this path with a fierce courage.
Even as words slip, you still create meaning. Even as thoughts tangle, you still reach us. That rhythm, that poetry—it’s not just a coping mechanism; it’s you finding a way to hold on.
I hope you know that your light is still flickering. And we see it. We see you.