I still remember with dread the time my father went to Mumbai. My father was a senior surgeon, who had worked in Britain, traveled across the globe and then settled in Patan, a small town 120 kms north of Ahmedabad in Gujarat. At the time that I speak of he already had Alzheimer’s it was just that we did not know it yet. His occasional slowness of thought and inability to grasp some concepts and often odd remarks were dismissed as the quirks of an elderly man. His brother’s wife, my aunt, was in hospital, and it was decided that he should go and visit her in Mumbai. My mother was not up to the travel so he went alone. He was driven to Ahmedabad by his driver who put him on the train to Mumbai, he was met by one of my cousins at the station.
On the return, I was traveling back from Mumbai to Vadodara on a flight that was leaving shortly after his, so we met at the airport, where he was brought by a cousin. We spent some time together, I was planning to ensure he boarded comfortably, then, as luck would have it, his flight was delayed by an hour, and mine was now leaving first. I still remember being worried, pointing out to him where his flight would leave from, where the announcement would be made, and repeating the instructions before boarding my flight.
Daddy got back to Ahmedabad and reached home fine. But it was years later, years after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, a few years after he passed away, and only after I left my job and devoted time to learning about Alzheimer’s and dementia, that the enormity and the risk of the situation hit me. Anything, anything, could have happened. That could have been the last time I saw my father. He could have just wandered out of the airport, he could have disembarked from the train mid journey! If I had known, I would have taken measures, ensured he travelled with an attendant, but in the absence of diagnosis and a lack of understanding of the disease, we were unaware of the huge risk.
Awareness is the first line of action in the battle against dementia, and I am a foot soldier in that fight.
Wandering can happen at any stage in a person with dementia who is able to walk. Read more about it in the Help Sheet on Wandering
On the return, I was traveling back from Mumbai to Vadodara on a flight that was leaving shortly after his, so we met at the airport, where he was brought by a cousin. We spent some time together, I was planning to ensure he boarded comfortably, then, as luck would have it, his flight was delayed by an hour, and mine was now leaving first. I still remember being worried, pointing out to him where his flight would leave from, where the announcement would be made, and repeating the instructions before boarding my flight.
Daddy got back to Ahmedabad and reached home fine. But it was years later, years after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, a few years after he passed away, and only after I left my job and devoted time to learning about Alzheimer’s and dementia, that the enormity and the risk of the situation hit me. Anything, anything, could have happened. That could have been the last time I saw my father. He could have just wandered out of the airport, he could have disembarked from the train mid journey! If I had known, I would have taken measures, ensured he travelled with an attendant, but in the absence of diagnosis and a lack of understanding of the disease, we were unaware of the huge risk.
Awareness is the first line of action in the battle against dementia, and I am a foot soldier in that fight.
Wandering can happen at any stage in a person with dementia who is able to walk. Read more about it in the Help Sheet on Wandering
