Multi-Tasking

.

I have a link to suggest.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kyrie-sue-carpenter/dementia-101-6-ways-demen_b_6373612.html  The title of it is Dementia 101 - 6 Ways Dementia Changes How You Think. This one is, as most things are, more geared to Alzheimer's Dementia, but there are some helpful bits in there anyway.  May be new info for some of you, or a source of info to send to someone who does not understand what you are going through, It is short and sweet, no in-depth stuff, but a good overview.  Most places I go to get more information about Fronto Temporal Lobe Degeneration (that's the latest term, degeneration instead of dementia) it will say "loss of executive functioning." This brief summary of dementia gets into that a little.  Basically what executive functioning means is being able to figure out how to do things, prioritize, multi-tasking.

I have come to realize that life includes a lot more multi-tasking than we realize. I am now attempting to break up all my tasks into smaller ones. For instance, I will set a goal of cleaning one or two rooms a day, instead of trying to do the whole house. Also, since it now takes an entire week to clean the house, I have learned to accept some dust. I even break down cleaning one room into smaller tasks, such as putting things away, get out the cleaning supplies, cleaning the counters, cleaning the sink etc. Just focus on a small task and worry about another one after it is done, unclutter the mind that can't handle clutter.

All tasks, even daily tasks taken for granted, have to be broken down. Something as simple as getting on the internet becomes: make a cup of coffee, go to your computer, boot up the computer, wait for it to boot up. I don't know if I am explaining this well enough.  I can't think "go to the computer and check your email," it has to be broken down to separate thoughts. Unfortunately, often I get the computer turned on but totally forget why I was going online.

People are always trying to reassure me, "It's not dementia, I often go into a room and forget why I went in there." Yes, I used to do that too when my brain was still healthy, we all do it. While that is a good analogy, you have to magnify that confusion by at least times 10 to even begin get to the confusion of FTD. Incidentally, in one of my online searches, I found an explanation for why you forget why you went into a room. Your brain see the doorway as a portal, a signal that it is in a different place so that triggers a response of thinking you are switching gears, starting a new task. Made sense to me.

Just this morning, the knob on my desk drawer was really loose and I fiddled with it for at least ten minutes until I could figure out that I needed a screwdriver and a wrench. Then I decided I could live with it loose, didn't even attempt it. I used to be the one who did all the repairs in our house because my husband was always working. I even did plumbing repairs as long as it didn't take a blowtorch. I was always smart enough to not trust myself with one of those. I'll stop droning on about it, I sometimes forget that "normal" people don't need things explained to them six times.

A quick update on how I am doing: I find myself, more and more often, stuttering and searching for words. I give up and stop talking because it doesn't seem worth the effort.  Of course, I have always talked too much anyway, so many probably find that a good thing. The gait problems are getting worse as well, making walking more uncomfortable. At my daughter's home for Christmas, she lives in a third-floor walk-up apartment and the stairs are the open kind. This was doubly difficult. Not only did my legs not want to listen to my brain, but the open stairs made my depth perception problem worse. I broke down and used help... an old walking stick my dad made for my grandpap years ago. Doesn't seem so much like a cane in my mind, just a family heirloom. It's getting close to the point where I will have to seriously consider using one though. I am so very lucky that my husband and daughter have enough patience to stick with me while I slowly creep along.