#tw: dementia

[aeshnalacrymosa]

“That was a wonderful story.”

Inspired from "Like Fog Dissolving in the Sunrise" by @riathedreamer

Daytime version:

Mirabel is wearing 1960 fashion because she is 25 in the story.

#encanto #encanto fanart #encanto fanfic #encanto fanfiction #mirabel madrigal #abuela #abuela alma madrigal #encantober #encantober 2023 #memory #tw dementia #tw: dementia #digital art #medibangpaint #medibang art #fanart #medibang paint #aeshna's art #fanfic rec #fanfiction #fanfic fanart

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Nothing Gold can Stay - a Malevolent fic

Warning. This is angst.

Hurt, no comfort.

TW: dementia.

Things happen when we age.

Unavoidable things.

Until death do we part.

AO3

--------

Arthur’s body rose.

It still moved a little funny, and probably always would; its first occupant resisted without reason to resist because even now, with everything, he hadn’t lost his stubbornness.

Come on, Arthur. That’s it. He got the hand to raise, managed to make it grip the toothbrush.

Getting the mouth open was never easy, though.

Open up. Come on. The other hand rose and rubbed the jaw, rubbed the lips.

The eyes stared at nothing, blank, in the mirror.

John sighed. This would not be a better day.

#

An hour and a half later, Arthur sat in their quiet kitchen, bathed and dressed; his thinning gray hair was brushed back, a little longer than practical, but not really a concern.

Before Arthur steamed a bowl of stew. Arthur did not look toward it.

His hand moved, awkwardly fisted the spoon, and scooped a decent mouthful, with bits of beef and potato. Open up, Arthur. Come on.

The spoon bumped his lips. They did not move.

Come on. Doesn’t it smell good? You want it, don’t you? It’s gonna taste great. Quieter, then: Come on, Arthur. Please.

It was the please that did it, maybe, or just lucky timing; Arthur opened his mouth, and very carefully, the spoon pushed inside, the whole arm lifting at the elbow to dump its contents.

Good! Good, Arthur! The deep voice cracked; the hand rubbed his jaw lightly, trying to stimulate movement. Chew for me. Here we go. Yeah, isn’t that good? I bet it’s good. Smells really good.

Arthur chewed reflexively, paying no attention. In the glass of the oven front, he stared at nothing.

You’re doing so good today, Arthur, said John unevenly, and hefted another spoonful. Come on. Swallow that one for me. Come on.

He stopped chewing, but he hadn’t swallowed.

John made a miserable sound. Arthur. Come on. Arthur, please.

Arthur’s other hand jerked, a sudden muscle spasm, and bumped the bowl so half of it spilled onto him.

Shit!

“John?” said Arthur, and the chewed stew spilled out, all down his front.

Shit, said John, grabbing a towel, wiping. I’m here, Arthur. It’s me. Arthur?

“John, I…” Arthur’s breath came quick, shallow. “John…”

I’m here! John dropped the towel, dropped the spoon, and hugged Arthur with both arms. I’m here. I’m here.

Arthur’s breath turned to hitching, a tiny, voiceless cry. “I can’t…”

I know.

“John, I can’t… get the fog... to lift.”

I know, Arthur. I know. I’m here.

“John, I’m so sorry, I…” 

Shh. Don’t be.   I’ve got you to the end, he said, voice thick and unsteady. 

“To the… to the end,” Arthur whispered. 

Yes. I love you, Arthur. One hand rose and stroked his thinning gray hair. 

Arthur didn’t answer. He stared at nothing, no longer startled by the hot wetness of stew on his shirt. 

John knew Arthur would have said it back, if he could. No more of that nothing gold can stay crap. I’m staying. John’s voice hitched for a moment, and then he scooped up another spoonful of what remained. All the way to the end. Let’s try another bite. 

In the glass of the stove, Arthur stared at nothing, eyes unfocused, and breathed. 

-----

Notes:

Having done caretaking to the end of some family members' lives, I really feel this. I fully believe John would stay to the end, whatever it looked like.

Since Arthur lost parts of his body to John whenever his sanity suffered (as per early Malevolent), I realized that if Arthur did struggle with late-onset dementia, that would probably happen.

They'll have their little farmstead in the Dark World together, I promise.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #hurt no comfort #angst #sad fic #tw: dementia #arthur lester #john doe malevolent

[thekristen999]

I made an appointment with an Eldercare consultant. A friend recommended this agency to me. This office was able to place his father in one of the faculty's on my top 4 wish list in over a month. (This place told me they had a 1-2 year wait list). It's a pretty pricey service, but they have relationships with nursing homes that I can't replicate.

It's frustrating that it's places like this that make it difficult for people like me to get my mom good care, but at this point, I'm willing to be part of the machine in order to get her somewhere closer and in a place I won't worry about her safety and to free me of the stress I've been putting myself under with being trapped in an unforgiving system.

I have my first consult about two weeks. *fingers crossed*

#tw: dementia

[rebelliousfamily]

An about for my oc Finch O'Malley

Finch was born to what seemed like an ordinary couple. But, her father left when she was just a baby and Finch had been raised by her Mother. But by the time Finch reached eleven, her Mother's health had deteriorated and she had started to show signs of dementia. Finch cared for her mother, but it had all led to her developing selective mutism because of how hard it was to communicate to her mom that she was her daughter.

Her mother passed away when Finch was 18, and Finch still struggles a lot day to day. She is still selective mute but the more comfortable she is with a person then the more she is going to talk to them. But if she's having a bad mental health day she wont speak.

#finch o'malley #about oc #tw: dementia

[ejikeabara]

The Journalist

Name: Ejike Nnamdi Abara Nickname: Eji, Nam if you're close. Birthday: June 27, 1972 Gender and pronouns: Male, he/him Sexuality: Heterosexual Birthplace: Toronto, Ontario Occupation: Semi-retired journalist Current Residence: Oak Grove, Starlight Oaks Length of stay: 1 year Three positive traits: Inquisitive, persistent, determined Three negative traits: Abrasive, hypocritical, conceited

Biography tw: parent death, dementia

Ejike was born to Nigerian diplomats Nnenne and Chidi Abara while they were stationed in Toronto. The family stayed there while Ejike was in elementary school and later moved to Ottawa when he was 13 and his parents were requested in the nation's capital. He was bullied for his "unusual" name all through school, but he didn't let that get to him and used it as fuel to well at everything he did. He was a captain of the speech and debate team, high performer in model UN, and, at the urging of his parents and English teachers, the editor of the school newspaper.

After graduation, he went on to get a Bachelor of Arts in English from University of Toronto. At the time, moving 5 hours away was all his parents would allow him to do. They had always been a close family, but there had been several (not too credible) threats to his parents lives and they wanted him close should anything happen. Bachelors complete, his parents got him a job at a well respected paper while he tried desperately to get out from under their thumbs.

Following a fight with his parents about his life, his lack of relationships, and his career, he moved to the other side of the country to get his Masters in Journalism at UBC. He was able to secure a job with AP and began a beloved career as a traveling journalist centered primarily in Africa.

He rarely spoke with his parents, instead deciding to hear how they were doing from his family in Nigeria that he was newly connecting with. It was from them that he heard his mother had died while he was covering Boko Haram. Despite having not spoken directly to his parents in almost 10 years, he flew back to Canada to attend her funeral and possibly rebuild his relationship with his father. The homecoming was strained and they struggled to bond after so long apart.

Ejike decided to relocate to NYC to be in the same timezone as his father. He still traveled often, but maintained the weekly phone calls they had agreed to. Chidi retired to Starlight Oaks a few years later, having visited several times over the years. About a year prior to his own move during one of their calls, his father mentioned he'd been feeling unwell himself and was undergoing various tests with his doctor. He was told not to worry, but having already lost one parent he couldn't pass up the opportunity to help.

He moved to Seattle and helped wherever he could. Eventually, his father was diagnosed with Dementia. Ejike went into a semi-retirement and moved into the home in Oak Grove to care for him. As his father's condition worsened, he started describing siblings he didn't have and trips they never went on. When pressed, he swore they were real and eventually he found photos to prove it: his father had had several affairs and somewhere out there he had 2 siblings.

Not long after that revelation, he received a phone call from the police while out covering a story that his father had somehow made his way to Seattle and had no recollection of how he'd gotten there. After talking with his doctor, he decided to move his father into a nursing home so he could be better monitored.

An empty home, a father in a nursing home, half siblings he'd never met, and a looming early retirement. What will he do now: go back to traveling the world to report the news or stay in Starlight Oaks and see where this leg of his life will take him? Only time will tell.

Wanted Connections

Colleagues: He's been a journalist for 25 years; there's got to be former or current journalists he knows.

Neighbors: He's only been here a year, but in that time he became close enough with the locals to ask their help in keeping an eye on his father while he's gone.

Siblings: Maybe his two half siblings got to know his father better than he did?

#starlight.intro #( i've been working on this for a century i'm sorry it's still terrible ) #( also wow this boy is long i'm sorry about that too ) #tw: death #tw: dementia

[mustangs-flames]

Is Ruth's mom suffering with Dementia?

Yes. Ruth's mom is currently in a care home full time as Ruth can't provide the care she needs. Sometimes her mother is lucid and aware of who she is but lately those periods have been getting shorter and less frequent.

#hail true body au #mustang answers! #tw: dementia #tagging just in case #htb ruth

[ninjastormhawkkat]

“Everywhere at the End of Time” is so much more than a collection of songs — it's a cinematic-like story of experiencing loss, struggling and deteriorating down to nothing. If dementia is portrayed accurately by this album, then it's certainly one of, if not the most, terrifying thing to go through in this world.

“Everywhere at the End of Time” attempts to convey the experience of dementia through a vast six and a half hours of audio.

So basically imagine two brains losing more and more of his memories as his mouse brain ages

Oof yes🥲. That is so good and sad it fits so well.

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #liloskull343 #answered ask #dr two brains #angst #tw: dementia #tw: memory loss

[andromedaexists]

hhhhh i don't understand how people work

Like, maybe it's just the tism in me and the need to research shit, but like my grandma's health has gone to shit these past few years and people are still in denial. How can you be blindsided by a dementia diagnosis when she doesn't remember what an M is??

I don't understand how no one saw this coming except for me. I barely see her 3 times a year and I saw it from a mile away. Did we learn nothing from my grandpa's diagnosis and death 3 years ago???

#tw: medical stuff #TW: dementia #i just don't understand my uncle #we've been telling him that she's dying for months now and he's “just so shocked that she has dementia” #like bro??? talk to your mother #how did you not know? #and then they put all responsibility over her onto my mom as if she's not working full time and dealing with her own health issues #i hate people #i'm going to fight my uncle

[purpleicedteas]

this should probably be under a read more. heed the tags.

my grandmother's dementia has been in a rapid decline for the last few weeks. at christmas, she was her usual self - she had dementia, which she's been diagnosed with for years, but she knew where she was and everyone's name.

within the last few weeks she has forgotten everyone's names except for a few rare moments, and thinks my father and aunt are from 'the agency' (no idea what she's talking about.)

anyways, my dad has her at our house today. i live far away, but my dad's installed security cameras outside. she's on the porch with my dad.

it took her several minutes, but slowly, hesitantly, she recited all three of her sisters' names and her brother's name.

i cried.

we're trying to find a home for her as quickly as possible. this all happened so fast, and there's only so much i can do being so far away.

i love her so much and to know she's like this is so hard. she must be in mental distress constantly. i can't imagine.

i'm glad i captured this special moment on video.

ugh. crying again. emotional wreck today!!

#tw: dementia #tw: memory loss #purple patter

[tiffonacid]

ghost/human angsty bad ending prompt [tw: memory loss, death by illness]

A ghost who falls in love with someone in their old, old house. However, there’s asbestos* or some sort of similar issue that has grown in the house a long time after the ghost died, and neither are aware of it. The living person starts losing their memories, forgetting things from the simple to entire people. The living person dies due to the illness and becomes another ghost to haunt the house, all the while the original ghost is forced to grapple with the fact that their loved one doesn’t remember them, never will, and it’s all their fault (in their mind, at least) because they were the thing that kept their love there.

*based on a story I heard yeaaaaars ago about a family who started having mental troubles due to living in an infested house (including forgetting things like where they parked their car in the grocery lot and how to get home)

don't remember when or where I heard it, but it stuck with me. looked up if asbestos actually caused memory loss and google said "not directly" so ??

#writing prompt #ghost #tw: death #tw: ghosts #tw: illness #tw: angst #angst #if I need to add more tw tags *please* tell me #tw: loss #tw: grief #ship prompt #tw: guilt #tw: memory loss #story prompt #dementia #tw: dementia #angst prompt #likely inaccurate to how this stuff works uhh #trying to be Very careful about the tws hdhdhfbdn

[nytehavyn-circle]

I'm angry.

I'm angry at what's happening to my mom.

I'm not angry with my mom, not at all. I'm angry at the dementia. This fucking disease that's happening to her, through no fault of her own.

I never, not once growing up, not once in my life, ever thought something like this could or would happen to mom.

My father, up until the stroke that killed him, was always sharp-minded. One of the smartest people I ever knew.

My mom was always smart, too.

And then, over the last few months, this starts happening.

This is the most difficult thing I've ever had to deal with in my life.

This fucking disease is slowly stripping my mom of her mind, of her memory. Simple things that she used to be able to do - word searches, knowing how to use the remote control, using the phone... she now struggles with on a daily basis.

Come afternoon, she can't remember what she did in the morning.

I can't even imagine how my mom feels, though she's made it known a few times. She gets agitated and upset when she can't remember something. She KNOWS she's supposed to know something, but she can't remember what it is she's supposed to know.

This is killing me watching her go through this.

I hate this.

I hate this disease with every fiber of my being.

Jesus, someone give me strength, please.

#ooc #tw: dementia

[m00nchildwrites]

My inspiration is dried. All of this health stuff with my grandparents is draining me. They cant be left alone, but wont NOT love at their own home, so someone always has to be there. Then theres all the appointments. Although, the doctorsare saying they think they got all of my grandpa's cancer, so now its just waitinf for his gutnto heal from the whole chunk they took out. Then grandma's dementia has gotten so bad that she tries to pull her dialysis port from her chest, which would kill her in minutes from blood loss; or she scratches herslef to injury or tries to get up because she is wheelchair bound but FORGETS.

It is like having a toddler. People do not talk enough about how much dementia effects families. The person with it isnt the one who suffers, its all those around them. Did i mention it makes her mean as hell? Because I literally get screamed at, spit at, scratched, punched, and accused of trying to kill her Every. Single. Day. When all I'm trying to do is keep her healthy and alive.

I literally am only "off" when I go to work.

I'm gonna have to reread my whole fic to get the muses talking at this point. Writing romance is just NOT in my headspace write now.

I open my doc and just...stare.

#dementia #tw: dementia #writer things

[magmaredorb]

He's up. He's awake. He's sitting in his bed and looking annoyed, staring at his hand and the lack of another.

Archie, who'd left to refresh water, rushes over. He places their drinks on the table and sets a hand on Maxie's cheek, eager to detail how happy he was to see him, but--

Maxie slaps him away.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Maxie snarls. "Where's my fucking hand?"

"It... fell off a while ago, Mastu." He says. "Remember?"

"I remember you tossing an old man off a cliff." Comes the snarl. "Was that not enough for you? You have your damn Orb, I don't. How are you still so fucking power-hungry?"

#text #mobile; #tw: dementia #plot: entroaching chill (and that matter of hunger)

[thekristen999]

When my mom used to live with me, her forgetfulness and repetitiveness, literally would drive me crazy. My irritability levels were through the roof and resentment would set-in. I was a walking stress ball of knots.

Now that she's over an hour away (thanks to horrible our healthcare system), I am constantly struggling with how much I miss her. It's been a year this summer since she moved into a nursing home, and I'm constantly battling depression as a result.

My therapist says I'm in a constant state of grief, so I'm never able to go through all the cycles of losing someone like a 'normal death or illness". And it's not easy for me just to go for a quick visit which I think would help.

I can't move her closer until a bed opens up and the waiting lists near me are 2-3 years long.

I am so physically and emotionally exhausted all the time. I'm so tired of feeling this way.

#tw: dementia

[soulless-angel25]

CW: Grief, Death, Dementia

I just got what is the worst news for me currently.

My Grandmother passed away this morning, and I'm still processing- I'm happy for her since she was in lots of pain and now she won't be. But now she's gone, and I know that logically she was already starting to go because of her dementia but I won't ever see her again.

I won't get to see my Grandmother who I love so much, who was the first person to give me coffee when I was two, who gave me cookie dough when she made cookies and taught me how to make them. I won't get to hear her laugh again or smile at me. I won't be able to have her ask me about how my day is going or how I've been or how the production I'm in is coming along.

I'm going to miss her so much and I don't know what to do. Especially since with her gone now it means that my Grandpa is going to follow shortly after because he adored her and I don't think he knows how to live without her anymore. They were married for 62 years and knew each other even longer.

#cw: death #tw: death #cw: grief #tw: grief #cw: dementia #tw: dementia #real life #irl #me irl #grief #death #dementia #tw death #cw death #tw grief #cw grief #tw dementia #cw dementia

[wren-like-the-bird007]

You’re a broken phone

I call and call and call and you never fucking answer

All I’m left with is a reminder that you’re not there

That you’ll call me back when you get my message

After the beep i complain and cry

Beg for a person and not a machine

Hoping Praying you will call me back

But the line drops dead before I can say goodbye

Before “i love you im sorry” can escape my lips

My message was too long

Too many complaints

Too many grievances

So now I’m left with the ultimatum

Reconfigure my message

Or wait and call back again later

I hang up.

Next week wont be any better

But a piece of me hopes that if i call back

Just once i’ll hear a “hello?” Before the call drops

#poetry or something #poem #poetry #tw: dementia #grandparents #idk being the caretaker of my grandparent is rough #i would do it again in a heartbeat #but some days are hard