Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Of Demons and Dementia

"Do you remember who I am?" I ask.

He looks at me quizically. I can tell his brain is working overtime. He's lying in his bed, a Batman DVD playing with the volume low. The Joker fires guns and Batman saves the day.

"You're my friend," he replies uncertainly.

"That's right, I am," I smile into his eyes. "But I also have a name that you know."

With a little prompting, he actually comes up with my name. He shakes his legs under the covers in childlike delight when I tell him he got it right. He seems so innocent, so pure.

He looks at me in earnest. "I was in Puerto Rico yesterday. I bought a dog and an airplane."

"Wow," I respond. "I thought you said you were in Puerto Rico on Sunday."

"I went back again and bought the airplane. I paid the guy a hundred bucks and I fixed the engine. "

He has AIDS dementia. Classic. Virus completely suppressed for years. Some changes to his white matter but no masses or lesions. People didn't used to live this long with a suppressed virus, so we're flying by the seats of our pants. He complained of devils and battled with them in his dreams. (Does watching violent movies help this situation?) An antipsychotic made him hallucinate. Now we'll try some steroids to decrease what we assume is brain swelling (he has a history of cerebritis). I'd love to take him to an acupuncturist or a naturopath. Maybe a shaman would be of service. But insurance doesn't cover such luxuries, so we have to use the tools at our disposal, thus more meds. We will eventually watch him slip away. Meanwhile, a local priest pays visits and helps to keep the demons at bay through faith and prayer. Maybe watching Animal Planet would be better.

Another patient also shows signs of AIDS dementia, but his virus is not suppressed and never has been. He can't tolerate meds well, has a history of poor compliance with treatment, and the virus has mutated exponentially in his bloodstream. Pockets of various strains are probably biding their time in distant corners of his body, waiting for a chance to circulate and propagate. His brain has been attacked by toxoplasmosis a number of times, and other illnesses have plagued him over the years. How long can he hold on? This weekend, devils sat on his shoulder and tormented him. A visit to church helped to calm his hijacked mind. The best we can do is treat the virus, keep it as suppressed as possible, support him in his compliance to meds, and send him to a therapist for treatment of his underlying depression and PTSD. The more serene and clear his mind from day to day, the less painful psychic torture he'll endure.

When faced with such conundrums of suffering, one can only be grateful for the small things that make life worth living. These gentleman are peaceful warriors, and we simply provide some tools for the battle, the least of which is a smile and a kind word. Love, after all, may be the best medicine around.
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