About This Blog

This is an account of living with someone who had dementia. As my husband is now deceased, the blog is discontinued but left here as an archive in case it may be of use to readers. 

The reason for writing it was not only to let off steam when things got a bit much; I also hoped that it might be of some use to others. Even so, it is a very subjective account.

For a few years I published it under a pseudonym, with the title Dementia Log, to protect my husband's privacy and dignity. However the time came when he stopped reading my blogs, and those who knew and loved him were already aware of his health issues, so there was no more need of secrecy.

One of my friends, whose work gave her the opportunity to observe dementia in different people, once described it as a kind of shifting fog — not static, not always predictable, sometimes worse than others. Hence the present title of the blog.

Because I called him Dear Husband (or just DH) at the earlier blog, I continued doing so here, even though some readers knew his identity.


He had an artificial heart valve, Type II diabetes with peripheral neuropathy (a painful condition of the nerve endings in his legs) as a side effect, and some arthritis. This blog, though, is mostly about his mental state.

I often thought he was coming down with Alzheimer's. Then it appeared that these symptoms were partly a result of high blood sugar. It was nevertheless apparent that his short-term memory was deteriorating and so was his cognitive function (understanding of practical tasks, such as how to use a computer).

In December 2011 he was finally diagnosed with 'mild to moderate' Alzheimer's and was put on medication, as recounted in the blog.  His physical ailments, particularly the arthritis, gradually became worse. My caring duties took up a lot more time, and I had to find out how to put some respite options in place.

In some ways, such as abstract thinking, his mind still functioned well right to the end. He died at the age of 83, and until his last two weeks of life was still a talented writer and interested reader. He was always a communicative friend and father, and a loving companion to me; and, though everything became an effort at the end, he did his best to maintain these relationships even when he was dying.

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