Tim, diagnosed with Frontotemporal dementia in 2012, living with HIV
Working in information technology and then for many years as a part of a management team, my career was very important to me. At the end of 2009, however, I realized that I was having trouble focusing on my job, and one day after a lunchtime walk, I felt like I had lost sight in one of my eyes. Thinking it was due to stress, I didn’t tell my partner Ron. I explained it away.
In early 2010, I took a work trip to Denver. During that week I had issues typing and communicating. When I met with my boss to discuss the trip, I had trouble speaking. That’s when I decided to see a doctor. “After talking to you, I think you need to go to ER right now,” he said. I found out that I had had a stroke, and doctors suspected that several mini- strokes had also occurred, which accounted for my vision loss.
Despite having some answers, I didn’t have them all. After returning to work a couple of months later, I was still struggling to do my job, which resulted in my being demoted. In January 2012, I was laid off. Due to all of the anxiety I was experiencing, I started seeing a therapist, who suggested that I make lists of coping strategies, but I never made the connection in my head to actually complete the tasks.
While in therapy, I was also undergoing testing and not sharing the results with Ron. I would come home and say “everything is fine” very nonchalantly. Ron knew everything wasn’t. “Either you are not communicating properly or you are just not telling me something,” he said. From then on Ron accompanied me to my appointments. We learned that the results of the testing indicated that there was a problem, but no conclusive diagnosis. Ron crusaded to find out what was really going on. Eventually, in 2012, after many tests and much anxiety, I was diagnosed with Frontotemporal dementia (FTD), which is caused by progressive cell degeneration that affects the frontal and temporal lobes of the brain.
Ron is my everything. He is my advocate, my only support, and my protector. If it wasn’t for him, I probably would not have received a diagnosis. I don’t even realize how many times a day he helps me make decisions. He’s good at subtly guiding me, as I can get very easily lost in a task. He is always looking out for my best interest. Because of FTD, I don’t have a perception of what repercussions exist due to my actions. I can’t even imagine what my life would be if I did not have him here.
Having been HIV positive for 25+ years, I treat the diagnosis of dementia like HIV; it doesn’t define who I am or what I can do. I don’t let the dual diagnosis control my life. I present myself first – work experience, life experience – and eventually my story unfolds. When I introduced myself to Congressman Cory Booker, I said, “Something you might not know about me is that I was diagnosed with dementia in 2012.” It was amazing how his constitution changed. “I wouldn’t have known,” he replied. It changed his whole perspective.
I tell people who I speak with on Peer-to-Peer Outreach Program calls that they have to look at their diagnosis as a new adventure. (Peer-to-Peer Outreach is a program of the Alzheimer’s Association that connects newly-diagnosed individuals with others living with Alzheimer’s and other dementias via telephone in order to share their experiences.) It’s a new challenge in your life. You will find different ways to accomplish tasks and you will find talents that you never had before. I never used to be able to speak in front of people. Because of my diagnosis, I can now give a speech. I still have challenges, I still have anxiety, but I have been able to do things I couldn’t do before as well.
As a care partner, Ron has a thankless job. I don’t always acknowledge what he does for me. Some doctors have suggested that the word dementia not be used in front of me and I appreciate that Ron is so honest with me about the diagnosis. Individuals living with dementia deserve to have advocates. You need someone who will go to battle for you. Ron does that for me.
I was losing direction and I needed to find a new outlet, so Ron encouraged me to get involved with the Alzheimer’s Association. Being an Early-Stage Advisory Group (ESAG) member has allowed me to let people know that their life is not over – that life is what you make of it. If I had a tagline like the women do on the Real Housewives reality shows, mine would be: “Get to know me first. I am more than my diagnosis.”
Ron, Tim’s care partner
I knew something was wrong long before Tim received a diagnosis. As his advocate, I helped coordinate his medical team and began making plans for the future. We went to an elder care lawyer (who was very helpful) and sold our home that we spent 10 years renovating .A lot of people wait too long to plan. The sooner you do that the better.
Dementia happened to Tim much earlier than it does for most. He was hoping to work up to 15 more years, build funds for retirement and travel. We moved from the suburbs to a 55+ community, and we live a very different life here. Tim and I have attended support groups through the Alzheimer’s Association, but I have also found support in our community by connecting with other caregivers. While other community members are older and their experiences more varied, their support is still valuable. Almost all of the people that are involved in support groups and services in the community are much older than us and it’s hard to relate to one another. Prepare yourself, because as a care partner, you have to realize it will only become even more intense.
You have to seek out advice. You have to be realistic. It won’t get any better. You have to take advantage of every moment together and celebrate what you have. Your relationship will change greatly. There are times when it’s difficult, and it’s usually little things that push you over the edge. You get by, but it’s very difficult. It is very hard to see your loved one diminish in front of you. I love Tim, but he isn’t who he used to be. As a care partner, you sometimes feel like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.
It is a heavy journey and it is a process, but you do what you can do. It’s not all gloom and doom, but it has been difficult reflecting on the past three years. Neither of us have a career anymore. We had to sell our home and settle into a new place. Amongst all that, we were working on getting Tim’s diagnosis. I lost both of my parents and Tim’s brother and father passed away – we’ve had so much happen. But we don’t give up. You have to make the best of your situation. I want other care partners and caregivers to know that they shouldn’t give up their whole identity. You have to do things for yourself. Our situation is what it is. You have to try and take in every moment you have and hold on to what you can.
As a member of the Alzheimer’s Association 2014 National Early-Stage Advisory Group (ESAG), Tim Kaufman raises awareness of the financial impact of the disease and the value of an accurate and early diagnosis. He also addresses the needs of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) individuals living with dementia. Tim and his partner Ron live in Southampton, New Jersey.
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