The year after my Dad’s diagnosis was tough, I am not going to lie. A 50% chance of developing dementia, what a prospect.
The question I could not escape was, do I have the genetic test? If I do, how will it effect my family? What will it mean? These were just some of the many questions, whirring around in my mind almost on repeat. I asked myself, minute by minute, everyday and the weeks turned into months. I wavered and agonised over whether to have the test or not. I started to feel as the time passed that I could not escape the question. My gut feeling was I want to find out.
I looked at my children every day and my Mum who was loosing her husband gradually before my eyes and I could not help but feel it was my fault that my children might also go through this. The only way to take away the pain that I could see was if I took the test ant it came back negative. Obviously I knew it could go either way but the pain of not knowing dominated my whole life and I felt powerless and that I could not move on in the limbo of not knowing. So I decided to take the test and the 3 month wait began to find out.
Over that time Dads condition deteriorated. He began to talk less, struggle with everyday tasks, became easily confused and on occasions was unable to recognise me immediately. However we learnt to treasure the little moments, that became the big moments and the following posts are just some of them.
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