One out of seven Indian suffer from mental disorders. But this number isn’t just a statistic to me. My father was one of those 7 people. He was diagnosed with dementia.
Till then I had heard of amnesia, Alzheimer’s and depression,
thanks to Bollywood. So Dementia per se was an addition to my vocabulary, and I
wasn’t the caregiver, my sister was. I was sitting on sidelines, watching her
run the show.
It was a weird time. My mother was terminally ill, my father
had started forgetting stuff, and my sister was being tossed around hospitals.
I never did pitch in though, never really occurred to me. I was married, had a
2 year old, expecting my second child. I never thought I should put my life on
hold to go a help my sister.
I don’t think I ever realized how difficult the situation
was. I remember being unwell after my
first child and I had gone home for a few days. My sister had started sharing
her concerns about my father’s memory loss with me. My mother was hospitalized
and my sister was with her. My father offered to make me tea. Now tea was his ichor.
He could prepare it with his eyes closed. That day he came back to me, the pot
in one hand and cup in another and asked me, what am I supposed to do with
this.
I couldn’t believe it. My father was always the prank
pulling kinds. I told him to stop
messing with me. But he wasn’t. He just did not know what to do. I am not sure,
if he knew that they were utensils. It was like that piece of information just
got vanished.
I started asking him questions, about our family, extended family.
He had started forgetting everything. Pieces of information falling here and
there.
When my mother passed away, he
managed to do the last rites, only when my sister held his hand. Somewhere around the death of my mother, I
lost both my parents. He passed on three years later. But I don’t think I was
ever mourning. I had lost him much before his death.
My sister went through the
struggle of taking care of him, managing her career and home. She left no stone
unturned to provide best care to my father. Did the system help? Directly, No! Indirectly yes, lot of people
who knew my father and sister within the
system came to their aid. Small things like help in banks and government
offices were offered without hassle because of personal connect. But it was a
lot of dabbling on my sister’s part. There
are no support groups or help centres which provide an advisory on what should
one do if a situation arises. What comes first.
I have heard of atleast 5 cases of Dementia, after my father’s demise. Also may be because, people expect me to know. I don’t. I don’t know what to tell them, or how to prepare them. My sister did. She at her level has been doing her bit of helping by people who come to her for guidance. But the irony remains despite the growing incidence, and need, the lack of proper support structure, stares us in the face.
Its time we act!
Follow Nupur Dwivedi https://nupurdwivedipandey.blogspot.com/
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