Falling

Falling is a big worry for people with LBD. Between the stiffness, shuffling, stooping that throws off the center of gravity, and the general disconnect between brain and body, it’s an ever-present worry.

We have stairs that lead to the lower level. We have steps, even in height, but uneven in spacing, leading to the outer entrance to that lower level. The back deck has two levels, and a short flight of three steps leading into the back yard. There are steps to the garage, and steps from the front porch to the driveway. We can’t get away from them. And my sweetie has fallen down (and up) all of them.

It’s a constant vigil to make sure he navigates the stairs carefully. We limit his trips down to the lower level, and I try to make sure he is empty-handed when he uses any of the stairs. Even so, falls happen. In reality, most of the falls occur just getting in or out of bed or a chair. The greatest concern with falling is brain injury, followed by broken bones. One less worry is bleeding, now that he is no longer on blood thinners. His knees and elbows are skinned and bruised from three falls this week. And so is his ego.

Interestingly, a fall has a significant impact on his behavior for several hours after. He shrinks up, his anxiety and paranoia increase, and he begins a litany of questioning and self-doubt that can go on for hours. “How am I going to live?” “What am I doing with my life?” “What am I doing here?” “What are people going to say?” These questions circle around like leaf little in a courtyard corner on a windy day.

My best tactic for dealing with this mental state after a fall is diversion. A treat and a review of the good moments before his fall help to bring him back, much of the time. Sometimes it’s a nap, as long as he hasn’t hit his head on the way down. Thankfully there has only been one fall that resulted in an emergency room trip, and that was more than a year before his diagnosis. The fear of another such fall is constant- especially now, when hospitals and their staff are taxed beyond reason, and waiting rooms are anathema. Thoughts of modifications are ongoing. Ramps, rails, lift chairs. Diligence and planning, but always, working on balance and strengthening through exercise, mindfulness, patience.

Published by Snad

I am Snad. It has been my nickname since I was about 8 years old. I've had dozens of jobs in my life, but the one I have now is caretaker for my husband, who has Lewy Body Dementia with Atypical Parkinsonism. It sucks. It isn't fair. But that's life. We are walking the road together, stumbling along, hand in hand.

Leave a comment