I had a scary encounter the first time I entered my Psychiatric Ward. I went there to find my supervisor, only to be greeted by an elderly person jumping in front of me and shouting at me. It scared me and sent my heart racing. I had never been on a ward like this before, even as a student. As I stood there, unable to move, that person grabbed me by the collar with both hands and just spoke gibberish at me as I made intense eye contact with them. It wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before. I really didn’t know what to do. But I tried to stay calm and just stand there silently, hoping for them to let go. They eventually did and my whole body breathed a sigh of relief. The nursing staff smiled at me and laughed, welcoming me to their ward. My heart hadn’t slowed down. My face must have looked terrified as they reassured me everything would be okay and led me to the office.
It was a stark reminder of what illness can do to the mind. I had seen a lot of dementia on my previous rotation on a Geriatrics Ward. I had seen how it had torn apart and frustrated many families. I had heard lots of stories about how their parents used to be. I had seen people wait hand and foot on their relatives with dementia, and I had seen people walk away, not wanting to be involved. I had seen people with dementia be pleasant and unpleasant to their families. I had seen people wither away over days, weeks and months. It was heartbreaking. It was everywhere. I didn’t realise this illness could put you in a psychiatric hospital for months too. I didn’t realise people could become as aggressive as I had read about in their notes. I didn’t realise just how devastating it was for families. I still don’t, I can only see glimpses. They’re the ones with them all the time. They’re the ones who have the memories of what they were like pre-disease. That must be the hard part.
It used to get to me quite often, especially families I would speak to multiple times, who were finding it especially difficult, and had other things going on as well as their family member with dementia. It really used to stay with me. I can picture their faces even now. Tired, frustrated, angry faces. Not at you, just at the situation. At the helplessness of it all. At the inevitability of it. At the lack of control they had.
Meeting people like this made me want to hold onto my parents. It made me want to help do everything I can to prevent dementia in myself, in them and in the people around me. Some of the diseases within dementia sounded like just bad luck though. And that scares me. I can’t imagine the feeling of seeing your loved ones go through the battle that is dementia.
Hopefully, this experience will help me learn more about these people, their lives, the staff, how they are impacted and how they deal with these thoughts that they must have had too. How do I not become consumed by these worries about the future? About what I’m gonna do if my parents get dementia? About how I could support friends and their parents if they get dementia? About how I can manage myself if that happens too.
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