49: FTD Regression

"Three-forty-one . . . three-forty-one . . . SET . . . HUTHUTHUT!"

Frank is in the dayhall, or former living room, of the group home that he has been accepted into. This is a large room with a television on the wall and chairs lined up in rows for the residents to sit and watch tv. There are about six people in the room, including Frank, and two aides.  He must have been hallucinating again. The aides said he began announcing play calls before he ran at the row of chairs and started throwing them around the room. The chairs lined up in neat rows must have appeared to be players on some imaginary opposing team, blue plastic uniformed football players. Maybe he's reliving his past glory days when he was one of the stars of the football team.

The director of the home was very generous to give Frank this opportunity to live there and for having the compassion to help him get out of prison. According to her, he was near death from starvation after not being cared for in prison. She did her best to help him gain back some weight and become stabilized on medications. He needed more time, but he wasn't going to get it. This was actually the second episode of inappropriate behavior in only a month. One of the residents told Matt later when he went to pick up Frank's things that the first incident happened when the aides were laughing at him and Frank became angry at them and threw a chair at them. When Matt asks the director about it she denies that this was the reason for Frank's episode. He had begun this behavior of sitting and standing over and over again which annoyed and distracted everyone around him and could have been the cause of the first incident. After the second incident the director called the police and an ambulance and Frank was taken to the local hospital.

This downward spiral that began when he lost his job with AT&T and his wife began seeing another man, continued. Frank couldn't catch a break. The physical stress and emotional anguish he had endured for these last six years had to have taken an enormous toll on him. Maybe he would have gotten frontotemporal dementia anyway, but he is 51 years old and I can only wonder if he wouldn't have gotten it so early or so severely if he hadn't been tormented by his wife and the court system.

Matt and I arrived at the hospital three days after he was taken there. We inquire about his room number and we are directed to the sixth floor. Matt and I step off the elevator into a bustling ward. The lively hallways are filled with staff and carts, and noise.  Most of the staff smile and say hello as we pass; a nurse asks who we're there to see. When we tell her, she says, "Oh, he's our favorite patient, and he loves the ladies!"
"Really?" I ask. I'm kind of surprised that he can still recognize an attractive woman.
"Yeah, especially Donna, she's his favorite. He eats best for her." the same nurse responds.
I look over at the nurse who is blushing. She's got big, long, blond permed hair and a cute face. She's pretty, not in a subtle way.
She just smiles and says, "We're taking good care of him."
They direct us to Frank's room which is just at the corner near the nurse's station. We walk in and he's just lying there staring at the wall.
"Hi Frank" Matt says "How ya doin?"
Frank looks at Matt without seeming to recognize him, then looks away and continues scanning the wall in front of him with his eyes.
We notice that he is tied to his bed in four-point restraints. Soft velcro ties are around his wrists and ankles which are tied to the corners of the bed. He can't move, he can only lay on his back. There is a tv on right next to him, but he doesn't look at it.
Matt goes out to ask the nurse about the restraints. She explains that he fell out of bed, so they keep him tied down when no one is there. She said that they come in and walk him to the bathroom several time a day and they untie his hands while he has his meals. They have to feed him though, he doesn't feed himself. He is so malnourished that they will be inserting a feeding tube into his stomach to help him gain some weight quickly.

While Matt is gone, I sit next to Frank and hold his hand. I began chatting about the weather and the kids, and anything that pops into my head. Frank's eyes scanned the wall behind me even though I was right in front of him. Every so often he would look at me hard, like he was concentrating on my face, then he would look away again and scan the wall. This is the first time I have seen Frank since that day in municipal court when they put him in jail. That was only three months ago, but the difference is shocking. His weight, his facial expression, and the frailty is not something I was prepared for.