Growing up in Bellville, a small town in central Texas, I didn't know any psychologists or certainly any neuropsychologists, who treated conditions including dementia. The field was just something I fell into. During my first master’s degree, I needed a job and started working as a psychometrist, someone trained to administer neuropsychological tests.
It turned out to be a good fit. It just so happened I also trained as a extern at the University of California, San Francisco, and the Memory and Aging Center there was one of the first centers in the world to focus on frontotemporal dementias (FTD), a group of disorders that gradually damage the brain’s frontal and temporal lobes, leading to changes in thinking, behaviors and certain movement. It was there that I discovered I had a natural ability for working with big personalities—which many of the patients had.
In hindsight, I wonder if that was because my family has a lot of big, colorful personalities. My dad was raised to be well-heeled and genteel, yet he relished being provocative with humor. His younger sister, my aunt, was the same way.
My dad also proudly described himself as a feminist, and from a very early age he made it clear I could do or become anything I wanted. That confidence in me shaped who I was long before I understood how much his own illness would shape the direction of my career. Around 2003, my dad started to have mobility problems, which we initially attributed to complications following a back surgery.
At first he walked with a slight limp and wore a brace, but then progressed to using a cane, forearm crutches, and by 2009, he was essentially wheelchair-bound. Around 2006, he also started to display behavioral changes. His conversations became increasingly superficial and his sense of humor became more juvenile.
I remember one Christmas he picked up his plate at the dinner table and licked it in front of everyone. I was stunned because it was so unlike him. There were also times when he'd say hurtful things to me.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
