This is the second part of a three-part series that looks at the latest research into Lewy Body dementia (click here to read Part 1 of this series). My goal in presenting this research is to try to make it understandable and accessible so that we as caregivers of our loved ones who have Lewy Body dementia can have better insights into what is happening neurologically and why it is happening.
You might ask why this matters. Perhaps the vast majority of the people who subscribe to this blog and follow it on the various social media venues, yet seldom ever actually read the posts, don’t really care about the details, preferring instead to read pithy or “nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen” posts that decry or moan about the day-in-day-out behaviors of these neurological diseases that always end up asking “why?”
The irony never escapes me that many of those people are subscribed to and/or follow this blog which, along with the two books I’ve written, not only gives the “whys,” but also gives practical application information about how to address and respond to the things they and their loved ones are experiencing. Continue reading →
I think this research could give some good insights into this particular facet of Lewy Body dementia, which always fascinated me and intrigued me to watch and listen to when Mama was experiencing it.
The last movie Natalie Wood made before her death in 1981 was a forgettable movie, despite a high-profile cast that included Christopher Walken (who has the creepy eyes of a villain, no matter what character he’s playing) and Louise Fletcher, called Brainstorm.
The movie is about a bunch of scientists who are trying to develop a device that will record everything happening in someone’s brain so that someone else can fully experience the same thing right down to the emotions and physical sensations (much like the virtual reality simulators we have today).
Louise Fletcher’s character is wearing the device when she experiences a fatal heart attack and all her brain activity is recorded.
After her death, Christopher Walken’s character uses the device to walk through Fletcher’s last minutes on earth, but almost dies in the process because he experiences the sensation of a fatal heart attack just like she did. The scientists decide the device is too dangerous and the project is scrapped.
While the movie was awful, the subject was fascinating because neurology is still so incomprehensible for the most part and unlocking all its secrets are, in my opinion, truly beyond the grasp of humans.
So any time we’re able to get just a sliver of a glimpse into how the brain works, it’s another piece of the puzzle, which we’ll never finish, that we can put into place.
There are some facts from the Huffington Post article about dreams that I found interesting, and may be a slightly-ajar door into understanding R.E.M. behavior disorder.
Our bodies react to dreams the same way they would if we were awake and experiencing those things and we dream in real time.
R.E.M. behavior disorder shows us that because we hear it and see it external in speech and motion and there’s a general sense of what’s going on the dream just by what our loved ones are saying and doing.
And as someone who dreams vividly most of the time, I can also attest that this is true.
If I’m falling in my dreams/nightmares (a little more on nightmares later), I literally feel the sensation of falling, which is what jolts me awake. All the fear in the dreams/nightmares is evidenced by my greatly-accelerated heart rate, profuse perspiration, and a long exhalation of breath that I began to hold just before I woke up.
The same thing happens when I’m running (these are my two default nightmares) away from something that’s either dangerous or chasing me. I jolt awake. My legs are tired, I am struggling to catch my breath, and I turn on a light to make sure nothing and nobody is there that I need to run from. All that happens in perhaps a second.
But the next fact about dreams that is fascinating comes into play here. I can’t go back to sleep because I am literally replaying the dreams/nightmares – I do this with other dreams, especially the ones that have meshed people and places and things that don’t belong together in them – too when I wake up and I can see them and go through them awake to try make sense of them or figure out why I dreamed them – almost frame-by-frame.
And there is a cadre of dreams and nightmares I’ve had over my lifetime that I recall just as vividly and in detail right now – I see them in my mind’s eye, if you will – as when I first had them, some of which go all the way back into early childhood.
Research has found that people who can recall their dreams regularly have a higher level of spontaneous activity, both in sleep and in wakefulness, in the medial prefrontal cortex and the temporoparietal junction of the brain than those who seldom remember their dreams.
The temporoparietal junction of the brain is a key player in processing both information from within the body as well as external information, while the medial prefrontal cortex is responsible, in part, for cognition (strategy, decision, actions) in environments where uncertainty (awake or asleep) exists.
Alzheimer’s Disease research shows a greatly-reduced metabolism rate in the temporoparietal junction in general and it appears that all types of dementia affect the medial prefrontal cortex.
One of the primary areas where medial prefrontal cortex research has been done is in PTSD and there is strong evidence to suggest that PTSD is the result of neurological changes within the medial prefrontal cortex.
It would, therefore, probably not be surprising to see a higher incidence of dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease eventually occur within people who have been diagnosed with PTSD.
My thinking, though, of the higher activity in the temporoparietal junction and medial prefrontal cortex in those of us who usually can recall our dreams, is that it’s actually hypersensitivity of both of these parts of the brain, because research also shows a high sensitivity to sounds when “high recallers” are awake.
I am definitely much more sensitive to sounds, both in frequency, pitch, and patterns, than most people, to the point that they really bother me or I can’t be around them very long because they literally hurt (I can’t exactly explain that in tangible terms, but I experience an almost-unbearable intense sensation of both auditory and neurological pain).
Sudden sounds, whether they’re loud or not, make me jump. Extended exposure to high-volume sounds makes me physically uncomfortable. And a lot of sounds occurring simultaneously overwhelms me.
The impact of this particular research for our loved ones suffering from Lewy Body dementia and R.E.M. behavior disorder, because they do not remember their dreams at all, could lead to a closer look at the medial prefrontal cortex and temporoparietal junction regions of the brain and the role that Lewy Body proteins play in how they function.
A third fact in the Huffington Post article that I found intriguing is that nightmares aren’t always about fear, but other underlying emotions like failure, worry, sadness, or guilt. My guess is that we morph all those other emotions into whatever foundational emotion underlies all of them.
I believe that underlying emotion is the primary emotion we’re most familiar with, understand the best, and either know how to escape (in my case, running) or know it is what will finally do us in (in my case, falling off something high enough that it will kill me, usually the road or bridge that turns into a high-wire I realize I’m on over the middle of the stormy waves of an ocean with no way to get to either end safely and I look down, lose my balance, and start falling).
The last fact I’ll discuss about dreams surprised me because I’ve never heard anyone say this out loud, although I’ve experienced it. You can die in your dreams and live to tell about it.
I never died in my dreams, always waking up before inevitable death, until I was in my late 20’s.
I clearly remember my first dying dream and the sensation of knowing I was dying and then actually, in what seemed like slow motion, going through the process of dying.
How I died was not the way I would ever die in real life, but what I remember most was that once I realized I was dying, it wasn’t scary. In fact, it was, although what killed me was extremely violent, peaceful and easy, with the last sensation I had being one of relief.
I’ve died on a regular basis in my dreams since then, but the most striking similarities among these dying dreams are that they aren’t scary and there is a profound sense of relief before it all just fades to black.
I suspect because death has been on the doorstep of my life – not me personally, but with my dad first and then my mom – since my late 20’s, the dying dreams are my way of coping with that.
I also suspect that because they haven’t been traumatic experiences for me, they equipped me to better handle the dying processes of both my parents.
And they’ll continue to equip me to handle well the inevitable conclusion to my own life whenever and however it comes.
After all, dreams are just another part of the incredible, albeit mostly out of the reach of humans, complex neurological system of reasoning, thinking, understanding, and responding that our Creator endowed us with.
There is no cure for dementias or Alzheimer’s Disease. Once the journey begins, its course is downhill, sometimes gradually, sometimes rapidly, but always in decline.
There may never be a way to prevent these neurological diseases from occurring before the damage is done – I’m going through several neurology-related courses right now and the professors teaching these courses readily admit there is more about the brain’s chemistry, physical structure, communication systems, and function that is not known than is known – but once dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease have begun to damage the brain, there is no remedy.
The brain is a unique organ in the body in that once cells in the brain die, they do not regenerate themselves. They’re dead and gone.
The neurological damage of dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease cannot be reversed.
So when Mama’s diagnoses came in late July 2010, I had a unique and personal perspective on what that meant for her and for me. “Mid-to-late-stage vascular dementia and mid-to-late-stage Alzheimer’s Disease” from the psychiatrist at the geriatric psychiatric hospital that Mama was in after her meltdown on July 10, 2010 didn’t surprise me. But I knew there was no cure, no going back, no fix.
I transitioned, probably more easily than most family members who hear this for the first time, to “what can we do to stabilize?” The psychiatrist assured me that stabilization was possible, but it would take time and tinkering with the medicines that the symptoms of dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease demand.
I was almost convinced that nothing could turn around the psychosis that Mama was experiencing in full throttle in those days. I realized my own helplessness to help her and make it better for her. I experienced a lot of guilt and inner turmoil because nothing I was doing was working and I knew how much she was suffering and how afraid she was and it was all out of her control and my control.
I was also extremely sad. This was not the mama who had, with open arms along with my daddy, brought my sisters and me into their home through adoption, loving us with a fierceness and tenacity that we struggled with at times but also realized over time was the real deal. This was not the mama who opened her arms, her heart, her door to me when life was banging against me and threatening to destroy me. This was not the mama who put up with me and loved me in spite of myself, at times, unconditionally.
How could I not do the same for her after all she (and Daddy) had done for me? They loved me in spite of myself. How could I not love Mama in spite of herself? This was a no-brainer for me.
It was during the geriatric psychiatric hospital stay that I learned about many of the most-commonly-used medications used to control and improve the symptoms of dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease.
All the medical professionals involved in Mama’s care were very careful to tell us repeatedly that the medications they were trying with Mama were controlling symptoms only.
I gave Mama Clonazepam only twice in two years (it knocked her out and I didn’t like the side effects, but it was for extreme agitation and there were only two times when she was agitated to the point of fearing for her heart health, that I decided to give it to her). The rest of this combination of anti-psychotic, anti-depression, anti-anxiety regimen gave Mama a better quality of life from near the end of July 2010 until her death on August 14, 2012.
With the exception of SeroquelXR.
Just after Thanksgiving 2011, Mama awoke one morning with tardive dyskinesia. At the time, I didn’t know what it was, but Mama was scared (and so was I as I watched the involuntary movements that rhythmically were going through her body).
I got Mama to the ER, where a nurse practitioner, who refused to listen to me (and the nurses who were with Mama and me and with whom we were talking to all day) for eight hours, was convinced that the tardive dyskinesia was Mama’s pacemaker going haywire.
So we waited all day in the ER for a cardiac consult that tested Mama’s pacemaker and confirmed it was working properly and not the problem (which I’d been telling the nurse practitioner all day because we’d just had it checked the week before).
Finally, the nurse practitioner decided to admit Mama, and late-stage tardive dyskinesia was diagnosed with the culprit being SeroquelXR.
Mama had Lewy Body dementia as well. It was not diagnosed (a firm diagnoses cannot be made without an autopsy of the brain, but symptoms are quite obvious while our loved ones are living), but I’d seen it, not knowing what I was seeing (I began researching it after Mama’s full-blown symptoms starting appearing in January 2012), just after Mama had gotten out of the geriatric psychiatric hospital when we were going to doctors’ appointments together.
Anti-psychosis drugs and Lewy Body dementia don’t mix well together. Mama was fortunate that she was able to stay on SeroquelXR as long as she was, and for that I am thankful. But we reached a point where we had to choose between mood and hallucinations/delusions.
I chose to help Mama with her mood. I knew I could handle hallucinations and delusions (although, in reality, what I thought I could handle still turned out to be surprising and perplexing, causing me to have to scramble to try to adjust with honesty and integrity even when things got way out of my comfort zone), but I could not handle Mama’s mood swings with these diseases.
So we (the hospitalist and I) went with Depakote Sprinkles (100 mg, 3 times a day – I could mix it with foods and drinks and make it easier for Mama to take) with the hospitalist telling me that Mama’s hallucinations and delusions would come back.
They did, but they were not particularly scary for Mama (I think because I was there), but they often threw me for a loop initially. I’m probably the least spontaneous person on the planet, so adjusting to these was particularly hard for me, but eventually, I got better at dealing with them and easing Mama’s mind. A new normal for both of us.
These medications that Mama was on are not the only ones used to treat the symptoms of dementias and Azheimer’s Disease, but they are the most common in the mid-to-late stages.
In the early stages, Aricept is commonly prescribed. From everything I have read and heard, it’s efficacy is limited. I believe that this is because by the time most people are diagnosed with dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease, they are already beyond the early stages of the diseases.
I would caution all of us as caregivers to make sure our loved ones are not over-medicated. Many of the anti-psychotics and anti-anxiety drugs can anesthetize our loved ones to an almost-coma-like state, which is not what we or they want or need.
We are their advocates. We are the only people who can fight for our loved ones medically. We have a responsibility to make sure our loved ones suffering from dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease have the best quality of life they can have for as long as they can have it. This is our obligation to them.
So unless anti-anxiety drugs are absolutely necessary and unless morphine and its derivatives and cousins are absolutely necessary, please don’t give them. They deprive our loved ones and they deprive us of quality time in the face of these terminal diseases. Nobody wants that.
There are medications that I haven’t talked about in this post. If you want to know about any medications that your loved ones may be taking, please comment here or email me at email@example.com. I’ve researched many, if not all, the medications used to deal with the symptoms of these diseases, so I’ll be happy to help you with any questions you may have.
I don’t think any of us who’ve been through this journey through dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease with our loved ones doesn’t have events like “Gracious Goodbyes – Missed Connections” describes.
Somewhere back in the farthest corners of our minds, when even the simplest things escape our short-term memories (I’ve had so many of these lately when I have not been, when asked a direct question, in a sort of on-the-spot situation, that I knew the answer to like the back of my hand, able to find the answer – I suspect rationally that it is stress and overload, but there’s always that nagging fear that this is the beginning of a journey I’ve already been on and don’t want to go on again), we wonder if this the beginning of our own journeys into dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease.
Ironically, I am not related biologically to my mom, who suffered from vascular dementia, Lewy Body dementia, and Alzheimer’s Disease. So, based on biology and logic, I shouldn’t worry. However, I know so little of my own biological background and medical history that I realize everything in this arena is totally up in the air.
On the one hand, I don’t know that I really care, in the big scheme of things. After all, I’m human. Therefore, by default, I’m terminal. The unknowns are when, how, why, what, and where. My hope (and prayer) has always been quick, soon, and with as little fuss and muss as possible.
I don’t want anyone to have to execute my DNR and my living will, both of which give me the quickest exit possible from this physical life. I’d rather God just step in, end my life in a flash, without leaving the agony of honoring my wishes to those that would have to make those decisions. I know they would, but I’d rather spare them the pain of having to do it.
But I also do not want my loved ones to have to go through the prolonged process of me dying the slow death, first mentally, then physically, that dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease bring. So, in that sense, I do care. Not for myself or for my life physically, but for those who would have to deal with these diseases if they come.
So, in the back of my mind, I don’t worry so much as I pray that I’m spared this particular way of exiting physical life. Each time I forget something I know I know, when I’m put on the spot to remember it, brings a twinge of anxiety, a moment of wondering, a slightly deeper intake of breath for what might be, what could be, but what I hope and pray will never be for me or for my loved ones.
Today’s post will discuss how dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease affect circadian rhythms and sleep, as well as some tips to help manage sleep disruptions effectively.
There are a lot of factors that make up our sleep behavior. I first want to discuss the biology of sleep and how, even if there are no other sleep disorders, dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease disrupt the biological sleep cycle.
Humans have an internal 24-hour clock that is synchronized with daytime and nighttime (light has a profound impact on this clock). This clock is referred to as our circadian rhythm.
As people age, this clock changes so that they normally tend to go to sleep earlier and wake up earlier. Sleep disorders like insomnia and sleep apnea are more common in older people as well. But their circadian rhythms are still primarily based on light (the more light, the more wakefulness; the less light, the more sleepiness) and time of day.
However, in our loved ones suffering from dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease, circadian rhythms go out the window because the diseases impair the brain’s ability to tell time and to distinguish between light and dark as indicators of when to sleep and when to awaken. It is sometimes helpful, in the early stages, to get a 24-hour clock to help our loved ones distinguish between A.M. hours and P.M. hours, but eventually that will be a casualty of the diseases.
The most common circadian rhythm disorder associated with dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease is a phenomenon known as “sundowning.” It occurs in the late afternoon and early evening.
It is characterized by speech and behavior repetition, constant pacing , excessive restlessness, wandering, disorientation to time and place, and agitation or aggression towards others.
Wandering is especially dangerous because if our loved ones get outside, they can walk long distances with limited vision because of the sun going down, sometimes on crowded roadways, and are susceptible to being the victims of crime and vehicular death.
One probable cause of sundowning is that there is damage to the part of the brain that produces melatonin (the sleep hormone) and the reduced production causes an irregular sleep-wake rhythm.
Another theory on the cause of sundowning is related to the energy levels of our loved ones with dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease . At the end of the day they are likely tired from the day’s activities.
This can aggravate the symptoms of the diseases, making them more anxious and stressed. Before the onset of these diseases, this time of day would have typically been the busiest for them. They would be getting home from work, getting ready for dinner, doing household chores, and going to bed. Now that they’re unable to do those things, they have little to do at a time that was the busiest of the day for them.
The most common sleep disorder that occurs with dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease is an irregular sleep-wake rhythm. You can see in the graph above how disruptive this rhythm is and why our loved ones with dementias and Alzheimer’s can be so tired, in general, all the time.
However, I believe the most damaging effect of this sleep pattern is that it actually prevents the restorative/repair functions that occur during a normal sleep rhythm, which exacerbates the neurological damage that dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease do to the brain. In short, this sleep pattern makes the diseases worse.
The most effective – and safe – way to try to minimize an irregular sleep-wake rhythm is to add melatonin to nighttime medications. As I’ve said before, up to 12 mg of melatonin is considered safe, but start with a low dose (3 mg or 5 mg) and give it time to see if that gives our loved ones more continuous and restful sleep. The goal is to keep them asleep at night and keep them awake during the day. Too much melatonin can have them sleeping all the time.
I would also suggest keeping our loved ones active and busy – as they are able – during the day (I will talk more about this in another post, but will briefly touch on it here). Up until the last week and a half of my mom’s life, when she’d had the major heart attack and just couldn’t do much with me, I had her help me with the household chores that she could like making the bed, folding laundry, preparing meals, and helping me with the dishes.
I didn’t care whether it was perfect or not (initially a big challenge to my normal OCD about those kinds of things), but I found that the more she did, the better she felt and the better she slept.
There is a sleep disorder that is specific to Lewy Body dementia and is one of the primary symptoms of that form of dementia. It is called R.E.M. sleep behavior disorder.
R.E.M. sleep behavior disorder is impossible to miss. Anytime a sufferer is asleep, they are in motion acting out their dreams and, at least in my mom’s case, having sometimes understandable and sometimes not in-depth conversations. It is also characterized by “picking” at clothing or bedclothes while asleep.
On the one hand, at least for me, it was quite fascinating to watch Mom dream and act out her dreams. Apparently – and I’ve seen this with other Lewy Body dementia sufferers, so it must be common for all of us to dream about – she dreamed quite often about food, because she’d often make the motion of either eating with a utensil or with her hands to her mouth. That was usually when she was napping during the day.
Most of her conversations occurred at night, although occasionally she’d say a line or two during a daytime nap. And they’d last all night sometimes.
Her nightime dreams also included a lot of moving around and possibly a version of restless legs syndrome (not uncommon for R.E.M. sleep behavior disorder).
While I know this had a detrimental effect on her quality of sleep, it was disruptive for me too. I have always been a light sleeper and have had my own issues all my life with not sleeping much (and sometimes not sleeping at all for a day or two) and not getting quality sleep (waking up a lot or being wide awake in the early morning hours and not being able to go back to sleep for an hour or two). With Mom talking and moving around all night, it made sleep that much more difficult for me.
An increase in melatonin helped with this as well. I bumped her up to 7 mg each night (she was at 5 mg before) and it was just enough to keep most of the symptoms at bay. There were still some nights when it was noticeable, but the worst of the symptoms seemed to be alleviated. And because she slept better, she felt better and did better during the daytime.
I hope this brief overview helps. If you have any questions or any topics you would like to see discussed here, leave me a comment or email me at goinggentleintothatgoodnight.com. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll do my best to try to find it.
You’re not alone and my intent and goal is to keep reminding you of that and help you as much as I am able.
Today’s post will discuss Lewy Body dementia: what it is, some of the hallmark features of it, and medications that can help, unless there are severe side effects, and some alternatives to deal with those cases in which the most-often prescribed medications may not work.
Lewy Body dementia is diagnosed during life by its symptoms. The only way to confirm it medically is by doing an autopsy on the brain after death. However, the symptoms are obvious enough that it can easily be diagnosed while our loved ones are alive.
This history of discovering the source of Lewy Body dementia began with Frederick Lewy in 1912. While doing autopsies on the brains of people who’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease (Lewy Body dementia and Parkinson’s Disease share many motor systems characteristics), Lewy discovered tiny – and abnormal – protein deposits in deteriorating nerve cells of the mid-brain. These proteins became known as Lewy Bodies. Their presence in the mid-brain always leads to a diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease.
It wasn’t until fifty-plus years later that scientific researchers discovered these same abnormal protein deposits in the cortex (the “gray matter”) region of the brain in patients who had suffered from dementia.
Someone with Lewy Body dementia will have these abnormal protein deposits in both the mid-brain and the cortex.
The symptoms that differentiate Lewy Body dementia from Parkinson’s Disease are:
Vivid and recurring hallucinations and delusions early on when the inkling that something’s going wrong starts.
Mild to moderate motor skills impairment, most notably with balance, muscle stiffness, and the tendency to fall frequently. A shuffling gait when walking is usually noticeable as the disease progresses.
Strong and dramatic fluctuations in cognitive function and alertness.
With my mom, although Lewy Body dementia wasn’t officially diagnosed (I did the research on what I was seeing and realized that’s what it was) until near the end of her life, all three of these symptoms were present early on when I realized something was wrong. She had progressively-worse balance problems the last six years of her life, with those becoming a front-and-center issue in 2010 when she began falling a lot.
Her hallucinations and delusions became a centerpiece issue in 2010 as well. There were also some fluctuations in her cognitive function in 2010, but the strong and dramatic fluctuations in both cognitive function and alertness did not begin until December of 2011. Even then, they were sporadic, but fairly quickly became more of a mainstay until her death in August 2012.
One the medications that she was given during her psychiatric hospitalization in 2010 was SeroquelXR.
This is one of the drugs you’ll have to make a judgment call on, since there are risks and potentially dangerous side effects to use this medication for an “off-label” use in treating the symptoms of dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease.
SeroquelXR is an anti-psychotic (neuroleptic) medication specifically developed for bipolar disorder. It carries a warning that it is not be used in elderly patients with dementia. Additionally, among our loved ones suffering from Lewy Body dementia, about 50% have adverse reactions to neuroleptic medications.
However, for Mom, it worked very well for about sixteen months in controlling the hallucinations and the delusions. In late November 2011, Mom woke up one morning and her whole body was uncontrollably, but rhythmically spasming. She wasn’t in any pain, but she was scared, so I had EMS get her to the emergency room so we could find out what was going on. What she experienced was late-stage neuroleptic-induced tardive dyskinesia.
The SeroquelXR was the culprit, so the neurologist discontinued that during her hospital stay and the spasms stopped within a few days. I was concerned about the mood aspect of not having the SeroquelXR, so the neurologist and Mom and I discussed options, since she was on anti-anxiety medication already.
The best and most workable solution was Depakote, a medication typically prescribed for epilepsy sufferers. It would work on both mood and spasms, but the neurologist said the hallucinations and delusions were going to come back.
And within a month, they did, but they were not scary to Mom and they were always a surprise to me, even though I expected them, but not unpleasant and not unmanageable.
But I came to realize that the SeroquelXR had effectively controlled a lot of the Lewy Body dementia symptoms the longer that Mom was off of it, because after the SeroquelXR was discontinued, the Lewy Body dementia symptoms gradually increased and worsened.
So SeroquexXR can be very effective in treating the symptoms as long as our loved ones can tolerate it and don’t have the kind of problems Mom experienced with tardive dyskinesia.
And that is an important point to make. A lot of this becomes a judgment call on our part as advocates and caregivers for our loved ones. If I knew back in 2010 (I wasn’t involved in the prescription part when Mom was critical and hospitalized) what I know now about SeroquelXR, I would have agreed to it. Because for sixteen months, it gave Mom a pretty decent quality of life in the dementias and Alzheimer’s Disease realm.
There is no known cause for Lewy Body protein deposits occurring in the mid-brain and cortical regions of the brain, so there’s nothing health-wise or lifestyle-wise that can be done to prevent it.
But, if we can understand what it looks like, then we can help keep our loved ones more comfortable and safe and perhaps keep ourselves a little saner and a little calmer. The more we know, the better we can love and serve them.
I’ll end this post with a progressive-over-time brain scan image of Lewy Body dementia (the source is http://www.neurology.org/). A picture sometimes is worth one thousand words, especially when I consider the fact that my mom had vascular dementia, Lewy Body dementia, and Alzheimer’s Disease and this picture shows the damage to the brain from just one of those three diseases. What an uphill battle her last few years were and she fought it bravely and well right up to the end.