Surviving The Crash

The author, imagining he has survived an apocalyptic event 😉

In the last couple of blogs, I’ve talked about feeling like an imposter and about the performance of "Showtiming." Now, I need to talk about the price I pay for it (please excuse the post-apocalyptic AI confection I've used as a graphic - I couldn't resist it!😉).

My Dementia Hangover.

No, I haven't been out drinking until 3 AM - I haven’t drunk any beer, I haven't touched a drop of wine - in fact, I haven’t drunk alcohol in over twenty years. Yet, I woke up this morning with a pounding headache, a brain that feels stuffed with cotton wool, and a body so heavy it feels like I am wearing a lead suit.

Why? Because yesterday, I went to my daughter’s house to socialise with her and her family for a few hours.

It’s Not Just "Being Tired"

When I try to explain this to my friends, they often say, "Oh yes, I get tired after socialising too." But a dementia “hangover” is very different from normal fatigue.

Normal fatigue is fixed with a good night's sleep. A dementia “hangover” can last for days. It’s a physical and neurological reaction to Sensory Overload.

Imagine your brain is a computer. A healthy brain has a high-speed broadband connection. It can download conversations, background music, the smell of food, and the movement of people all at once without lagging.

My brain is running on a dial-up connection from 1995!

When I’m in a busy environment, the data comes in too fast. My brain overheats trying to process it all.

The “hangover” is the system crash that follows.

Symptoms

My showtiming hangover usually looks like this:

• Fog: My thinking speed slows to a crawl. It can take me ten seconds to process a simple question like "Do you want a cup of tea?"
  

• Sensory Sensitivity: The sound of a spoon hitting a bowl sounds like a sudden explosion. Sunlight feels aggressive.
  

• Word Loss: I lose my nouns. I point at things because I can't name them, or say the wrong words entirely.
  

• Irritability: I have a shorter fuse because I have no processing power left to manage my emotions.
  

My Survival Guide: How to Manage the Crash

Over time, I have stopped fighting the “hangover” and started managing it.

And here’s my toolkit for when the crash hits.

1. Bank Your Sleep

If I know I have a big event coming up, like a wedding or a holiday dinner, I rest before I go. I treat my energy like a battery. I need to be at 100% when I arrive, because I know I will leave at 0%. I don't run errands on the morning of a big event. I do nothing.

2. "Cocoon" yourself

When the “hangover” hits, the only cure is Sensory Deprivation. I call it "Cocooning."

• Low Light: I draw the curtains. Visual stimulation (bright colours, movement, light) requires brain power I don't have.
  

• Silence: I don't listen to the radio or podcasts. Silence allows my brain to stop processing data and start repairing.
  

• Weighted Blankets: Many of us find comfort in the pressure of a weighted blanket. It helps ground the body when the mind feels turbulent.
  

3. Hydrate, Hydrate, Hydrate

It sounds basic, but the brain needs water to function. When I’m in a hangover state, I often forget to drink, which makes the headaches worse. I keep a large bottle of Pepsi Max by my bed so I don't have to make my way through the kitchen to get a drink (I know I should use water, but I’m hooked on  Pepsi Max 😉).

4. The "No Guilt" Rule

This is the most important tool. When I am in the crash, I don’t apologise for being unproductive. I don’t apologise for having to cancel plans for tomorrow. I remind myself: My brain is injured. It is healing. This is necessary work. Luckily, my wife Pam understands EXACTLY why I need to do these things.

A Note to Carers/Partners/Supporters

If you are living with someone who is in a dementia hangover, the best thing you can do is reduce the noise.

Don't ask us non-specific questions such as "What do you want for dinner?" That requires too much processing. Instead, say "I am making soup," or simply place a cup of tea in front of us. Be the quiet anchor in our chaotic world.

We will come back to you.

We just need to reboot.