Mom took off late one morning to eat lunch with my aunt. She never made
it. Eleven hours later someone calls on her cell phone to tell me she
is in Virginia (we live in the central part of North Carolina). It was
a four hour drive one way. She had burned up the clutch in the car. If
it had not been for that, Lord knows where she would have ended up. She
had no idea how she got there.

She had a prior instance where I called from work, and she was
confused. Even though it was late afternoon, she thought it was morning
and that she had slept sitting on the couch in her clothes. I called
the docter behind her back to ask him to check her out. Nothing was
ever said about this. After her "trip" the doctor declares "dementia"
without really running any tests. When I asked if this could be the
start of Alzheimers, he stated that we had long passed that mark
(referring to the earlier incident). I should have changed doctors
then, but I was ignorant. We have a different doctor now. The newer one
sent her to a neurologist. At this point there was no doubt she had
dementia. The only reason I agreed was because I was told they could
treat the illness better if they knew the exact type of dementia. The
neurologist had the bed side manner of a rock. Little does he know when
he was checking Mom's reflexes with the hammer, I was preventing Mom
from clocking him. We never went back. That is when I realized that
you, the caregiver, have to become more than the doctor. Just because
they have a degree on the wall doesn't mean they know best.

I, too, am a newbie to this group. I have been lurking for a couple of
months gleaning ideas and getting comfort from the fact that I am not
the only one to be going through this (although I wouldn't wish this on
my worst enemy).

Hope this helps.

--
Sparky