1st in a series of posts about the author’s experience
of Lewy body dementia
As the solar year hovers at the nadir of its cycle, and winter draws us into its dark night, I find myself turning to the near-impossible task of writing a professional farewell.
Last autumn I began experiencing early symptoms of what doctors soon identified as Lewy body dementia. If it sounds familiar to you, it’s probably because both Robin Williams and Ted Turner were given the same diagnosis (sadly, Robin Williams was diagnosed only after his death). Although close to 2 million Americans suffer with this disease, until recently it remained largely unknown. The publicity these celebrity casualties have received has attracted the public eye and encouraged vital new research into Lewy body dementia.
Lewy body dementia is an acute degenerative disease with no treatment and no cure. , Robin Williams’ wife, called it, “the terrorist inside my husband’s brain.” It knows nothing of mercy, only destruction. In my own case, it was diagnosed early, because of a relatively uncommon symptom that led me to a sleep lab. Since then the memory loss and verbal impoverishment have become obvious, along with many other physical symptoms. I can’t begin to imagine the agony Robin Williams and his wife experienced without any explanation for his deterioration. At least I have a framework for understanding.
I will write no more books. I don’t have the words, or the memory to hold plot lines in my mind. Just writing this post has taken a ridiculously long time and required the constant use of a thesaurus. But I’m fortunate so far: my daily life hasn’t been catastrophically altered. To a stranger’s eye, I still function like any average senior woman.
I want to thank all my readers for their love and support. It has been a privilege to be welcomed into so many homes with Yeshua’s Cats–and an astonishing gift to walk with Yeshua through a wonderland of fantasy! My books will remain available for as long as there is any interest, but I will no longer advertise them or offer promotional deals. They will endure or fade away through word of mouth. Getting through each day is challenge enough.
My art and photography are less impaired than my words, so I will post images from time to time, with short messages. The Autumn Tears image above is one of two pieces of art that I created in autumn of 2018, when the earliest symptoms were emerging (although I didn’t recognize them as symptoms). The second image (below) is a photo collage of a dream. The dream wouldn’t let me go until I’d captured this central image: a shabby and unlikely old woman in a ruinous house, holding out a glowing gift in a small battered box, while wings hover in the background. I find myself wondering if that dream might have been an image of my life and writing in the face of the gathering shadows. If so, I am content.
In the hands of the One,
