Welcome to Art of Dementia and thank you for joining me on the most unique and challenging journey of my life. I have been pondering and praying about the creation of this blog for a couple of months. Every once in awhile I have posted some sweet stories about dementia on my Facebook page - just to get it off my chest or address my wonder publicly. I have been amazed by the responses to those comments. I began to understand that people were learning from what I wrote. They were gaining hope. They developed empathy. They were reminded to be thankful for their health and the health of their loved ones. I am not inspirational, but the stories are. So, thank you in advance for allowing me to share our stories.

My name is Michelle Cox. About 2 years ago, at the age of 48, my husband was diagnosed with Early-Onset Dementia. People often asked how we knew something was wrong. It was Spring 2011 when I first noticed unusual behaviors. Paul grew up in the town in which we were living. He wandered the main streets and back roads of our state's capital city when it was mostly pastoral. He knew how every rural route and city street connected. He often recalled what businesses used to exist when pointing out updated storefronts. Then suddenly, his routes around town became circuitous. One day we passed a street on which we should have turned. I asked, "Why didn't you turn on Market?" He said, "Market doesn't connect with Liberty here." We were driving on Liberty and just passed Market. I pointed this out to him and he began arguing passionately that I was wrong. People who know my husband know he does not argue passionately. He generally doesn't argue at all. Despite the fact his sense of direction was off, it was really the argument that caused me to start observing him more closely.

The more I observed, the more my fears were confirmed. He would get frustrated with one of our children for using his tools and not replacing them. Wyatt, our youngest would deny using the tools. Paul would find them later and only then remember he had misplaced them. We found keys in the refrigerator and the coffee pot in the bathroom. When I came seriously concerned I began asking questions he would normally answer with little hesitation. What is our anniversary? How old am I? What year were we married? Yes, cynical readers - he would normally have known the answer to those questions. But no more.

Here is when the story becomes markedly curious from my perspective... I just happen to have a doctorate in Human Development and Family Studies, with doctoral minors in Counseling and Gerontology. I studied dementia during my doctoral program and even wrote one of my comprehensive exam questions on the topic. What is the likelihood that my young husband might suffer from a disease that I am uniquely able to identify, diagnose, and understand? I knew some simple tests to assess his cognitive functioning and memory abilities. "Honey, can you spell the word world backward?" "Count backward from 100 by 3's." "Can you draw the face of a clock and place all the numbers in the correct locations?" All of his responses suggested either delay in processing or complete inability. This represented a significant change for a man whose work as a plumber required extensive memory of building and plumbing codes, who worked with fractions and measurements consistently, who purchased, remodeled, and flipped house after house. My heart sank.

Thus started a journey we have been on for the last 2-1/2 years. This journey has included panic, joy, love, peace, frustration, sadness, fear, confusion, anger, passion, hopelessness, hopefulness, grace, awe, and mostly, patience. This blog is my way of maintaining a diary of our experiences - the real life of dementia. It is also a tribute to Paul - his courage, his effort, his legacy - and, his art. You will not believe the art! And I will tell you all about it when I write the next post.

Blessings, Michelle