One of the hardest parts of life with frontotemporal dementia (FTD) isn’t always the big changes — it’s the quiet, everyday moments that remind you how much this disease shifts reality for both of you.
Today, Chuck called me while he was with his caregiver. He sounded so confident and full of purpose, telling me he had the truck loaded and tied down, ready to go, and that he was “going to take it over.”
Of course, Chuck hasn’t had a truck for more than two years.
In that moment, I had to pause and choose my response carefully. I could have corrected him, reminding him there’s no truck, no load, no destination. But I’ve learned that meeting him where he is — instead of pulling him back into my version of reality — brings much more peace.
So instead, I simply said, “Wait until I get home, and I’ll help you.”
That was enough.
Moments like these are constant lessons in empathy and patience. Chuck’s memories have become woven between past and present, but his emotions remain entirely real. When he talks about loading the truck, he’s really expressing his purpose, his pride, his drive to be helpful — all the things that have always defined him.
FTD teaches you that love doesn’t always look like correction. Sometimes, it’s simply stepping into their world and saying, “I’ll help you when I get home.”
If you’re walking this road too, feel free to follow along here or send me a message. You’re not alone on this journey. ❤️
And as always, I encourage you to reach out to the AFTD HelpLine (866) 507-7222 or info@theaftd.org, where trained social workers can help you navigate the journey.
