Tom & the Police

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Alzheimer's ...for caregivers

Tom and the Police

After a week of almost no sleep Tom became so sleep deprived that he was actively hallucinating. His hyper-activity was rampant and he was not responding to any medication. My doctor told me to call 911 if he became violent. Being unable to sleep because of his behavior, I was sleep deprived myself. After yet another night of his pacing and with his kicking the doors that I had by now locked in order to keep him contained in a manageable area in the house, he blew with rage. Even so, I was able to get behind him, lock by arms about his torso and move him down the hall to his bedroom, which I had set up as a safe room, a room where he could rant without harming himself, and I called an ambulance to have him taken to the hospital.

The police got the call and responded first. By the time they arrived, Tom was reduced to kicking the door in his room and yelling his particular variety of obscenities. Even that level of language had begun to deteriorate and being a man who never resorted to that sort of language when he was well, made the tirade that much more significant. In the midst of chaos I still recognized loss when it occurred. I was crying and my talking to him only seemed to trigger his anger more. I had black blue marks on my arms, having got in the way of his flailing arms and hands while moving him into his room, but except for needing a good nights sleep was basically all right. For the record, Tom had a few bruises as well. With his crashing into walls and doors and flailing his arms about it was inevitable that he would cause some injury to himself as well as me.

The police drew their clubs when they saw the state I was in and asked me if he was armed. While I tried to explain the nature of his disease, becoming more apprehensive at the display of force, the paramedics arrived. A woman shorter than my 5’6" came in the door and asked what had happened. I told her Tom had Alzheimer’s disease and was experiencing hallucinations brought on by sleep deprivation and an overt reaction to his medication. She stepped to the door and softly called his name. This was the following exchange between them.

"Tom,"

"Yes?"

"My name is Jennifer and your wife Beverly asked me to come and talk to you. You have a doctor’s appointment and I’m here to take you to see your doctor. O K?"

"O K."

"Can I come into the room?"

"O K."

She opened the door, walked in, led him out and helped him into the ambulance. Her manner was kind, helpful, and very soft. Tom was like a puppy. Until that paramedic arrived I had visions of Tom being dragged kicking and screaming out my door, in handcuffs. After she got him set, I asked how she did that. She said her father had died of Alzheimer’s Disease and she had developed a sixth sense about how to deal with these patients. She told me, my having removed him from where the episode took place helped, and removing myself from his sight helped more. Whatever had happened, he was furious with me. To this day I have no idea what triggered his response except I was strung out with exhaustion and who knows how I was presenting myself to him. The police put their clubs away and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. In some ways I was lucky, if I had been a man in exactly the same situation the odds are that I’d have been arrested for abuse.

After weaning Tom off his existing medication, which took two weeks, his behavior becoming more manageable as the days passed, he came home. He was still pacing, but he was sleeping a pattern I was able to live with.

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