THE NIGHTMARE

"The Nightmare," is my own story. I can't ask you to show me yours if I don't show you mine, right? Well... that could've been phrased better.

Anyway, now that I've given you some comic relief before leading you down this road, it's time to press on.

The story is about my family's experience with my mom's fall into early-onset dementia. For a long time, we didn't know what was wrong with her, and she refused to be seen by a doctor to get diagnosed. She was drinking like crazy, getting violent, and had no concept of right and wrong... which is actually the exact part of her brain her type of dementia was eating away first.

The worst part? I wasn't even there. I was across the country with the Navy, while my barely teenage sister and my overworked father faced all of that alone.

At one point, a state social worker actually told my dad to get a restraining order and put her out on the streets because, apparently, the state government had programs for homeless people, but not for people with homes.

Before dementia turned her into Mrs. Hyde, my mom was my best friend. I'd call her every other day, could talk to her about anything, and wanted to be exactly like her.

I called this one "The Nightmare" because after I visited home while she was still living there, I had an experience with her that scared the hell out of me, leading to a recurring nightmare.

In the dream, we'd be standing in the hallway, and I'd try to ask her, "Why?"

The more I tried to ask her, the more I choked, my throat closing even on my breath. As I suffocated, she laughed.

For anyone with family members with Alzheimer's or dementia, I feel your

pain. Don't worry, we haven't had "The Notebook" experience either.

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The Nightmare

The Nightmare's nails were yellowed

Just long enough to end in curls

Her voice broke, cackling, a broken record

"I. LOVE. MY. GIRLS."

Her hair hung in chunks on the collar of the fleece she'd worn for weeks

She repeated "WORDS. SENTENCES. WORDS," to herself

And sometimes... to me

That's the dirt that's on our laundry

Dirty laundry's all she wore

She begged outside the corner shop

For something more, "FOR MORE"

As she asked and asked

Their deafened ears, the eyes they kept above her

I begged to her, "Come home! Just come home!"

What happened to my mother?